I'm wondering if maybe you'd like to come write this letter, because with the way your verbal skills are multiplying, and the dexterity with which you can operate handheld electronics, it feels as if you're just a few weeks away from being capable of doing so. You speak in garbled words that sound like complete sentences, but usually only contain one or two words that we understand. If we don't get what you're saying, you violently shake your head and say it again. When we finally do interpret your babbles correctly, it's a celebration, complete with flapping arms, bouncing and gleeful exclamations.
You know how to say, "Mama." On occasion, you call me "Mama." But when I instruct you to say, "Say Mama" you always look right at me and clearly say, "Dad-dee!" I can't help but wonder if you know exactly what you're doing and you do it just to drive me crazy.
One of your favorite things to do right is race your brother. You run like a 2-year-old and my guess is that one day you'll be able to hold your own in a race with him pretty well. I'll give the traditional "On your mark, get set, go!" and you two take off running in circles around our house as if it were built to be a track. Sometimes . . . SOMETIMES . . . I'll even race with you guys. As we run, you'll often pump your fists in the air and say, "Go, go, go" which might be the cutest thing I've ever seen. You don't really get that it's a competition, because every time Jack exclaims, "I WIN!" you pump your fists in the air, bounce up and down and say, "Yay!"
In January, you were really sick with bronchitis and fever. I hated seeing you like that . . . struggling to breathe and lethargic. You curled up in my lap, sucking your thumb and just sat there while I held you. I'm not glad you were sick, but I really did enjoy snuggling with you. I know these times will get fewer as you get older.
Your dancing and singing might be my favorite thing about the last few months. I love it when a song you recognize comes on and you start waiving your hands and shaking your bottom. Then you'll just start spinning in circles until you're too dizzy to stand. It makes me a little dizzy just watching you.
You're becoming such a funny little boy. You exclaim "tadaaa" whenever you find something new. You sing along with songs, using words that only you can understand. You blow kisses with smacking noises that can be heard from several rooms away. You pretend to comb our hair and brush our teeth. You brings us plastic cups, instructing us to "dink" and won't be happy until we make fake slurping noises and say thank you.
I love you, Bennett!