Year 8 complete

This kidlet-o-mine celebrates 8 whole years today...I cannot believe it. I am so proud of and inspired by you, Cadence Ann.  I can already feel you growing away from the tiny creature you once were, beginning to sprout your wings and move on to becoming an independent being, off in the world.  I'm gonna hang on to these amazing days we have now, where I still get the occasional cuddle and constant companionship from you. To say I'm going to miss you when you are grown is a massive understatement; but I adore watching you flourish and expand your horizons and take those leaps; you are doing splendidly, my dear. I love who you are, who you are becoming, seeing you realize your dreams...you deserve so much more than I can give you, so go ahead and create a life worthy of YOU. You're off to a great start.

Happy Birthday, my Cadiebug!

Dear Cadence: Month 38

Dear Cadence,

This has been a rich month, as so many have been, and it has been a joy to spend this last bit of time with you before you -sniff- go off to school! I know, I know, it's only preschool, but you'd never know that by how you talk about it, and how freakin' intelligent you are. You continue to astound me, and much of the time I have trouble articulating how...The little note I made because I knew I wanted to talk about this in this month's letter just said:

"being really smart. like really smart. explaining things. describing. understanding complicated ideas. allergy vs intolerance...kids can't drink alcohol so she can have root beer, but not every day because it's not good for you"

Yeah, you know all sorts of relatively complicated nuances like the difference between alcohol being dangerous for kids and sugar just being unhealthy, but ok sometimes, (and how alchohol is only a sometimes thing even for grown ups, and that too much sugar can be dangerous for anyone) and that rootbeer is a kind of soda even though it has 'beer' in the name...and you know the difference between an allergy and an intolerance. Most grownups don't even know there is a difference. And So. Much. More.

[Speaking of that, you're also much more aware of my medical status than I had given you credit for. Danial and Poonam have been living with us for several weeks while they search for a home of their own. Unfortunately, Poonam is allergic to cats, and so, in an attempt to make it as safe and comfortable as possible for our guest, we moved our air purifier into their bedroom. I was honestly surprised when, at bedtime that first evening, you asked Baba with a concerned tone: "where's the thing that helps mama breathe?" (and only slightly related: Of course you know about my allergies, but it still melts my heart a little when I hear you reciting to someone not to feed me some food or another because I'm allergic.)]

But yeah, you've got critical thinking down surprisingly well for a kid your age, and it is certainly not uncommon to hear you begin to reason with us with a hearty "how 'bout this:", which you will follow up offering real compromises and deals that are often quite fair and well thought out.

You've also learned what it means to describe something, and you've been practicing this skill quite a lot lately. You LOVE learning, and cannot wait to get to school where you'll be able to learn SO MUCH!! It's terrifically exciting to watch.

Oh, and did I mention your speech yet? 'cause, it's kind of amazing. You recalled and perfectly pronounced the word 'stethoscope' the other day, entirely independently, and recently corrected my grammar when I incorrectly used the word 'trip' instead of 'slip'. You were not amused, but you were a graceful and understanding teacher. "no, no, Slip. Not trip."

All this is not to say that you don't still have plenty of age-appropriate quirks, even if they are sometimes expressed with rather adult vocabulary. "It's taking too long, I just can't wait!" has become a recurring mantra, often used when we're cooking or if we've told you we'll play a certain game once we've completed the task at hand. Usually, if we talk you through what needs to be done, you'll concede with a dejected, sighing "OK" and slink off to the other room, only to reappear within moments declaring once more that "it's taking too long, I just can't wait!" and the cycle begins over again.

One heartbreaking thing you've started doing lately is crying because you miss Nana, Papa and Kelly, and saying that you just want to live with them again. I do think we're doing the right thing by being here in New York, but I can truly sympathize with you, little lady...I miss them all, so much, too, and part of me does just want to go back and be near them. and I feel terrible that we are depriving you of those relationships, which are obviously very important to you...and we do try to keep you from feeling too distant, we do video chats whenever we can, and talk on the phone...There was one day in particular when you woke up sad, and you spent much of the morning in a weepy stupor, not wanting to play or do anything that involved getting off the couch, until I called Papa and let you talk to him on the phone...you talked for maybe 15 minutes, probably less, and after you said goodbye, you perked right up and went about your day as if nothing had ever been wrong.

As always, your vocabulary continues to astound. Though you do have some interesting pronunciations here and there -for instance, one of your favorite words lately is 'section', but you pronounce it with a 'p' at the beginning. You'll sometimes divide (something? the air? It's fairly unclear) into the "boy psection" and "girl psection" in your play...so silly.

But you really do take on new words and phrases at an almost alarming rate. Recently, you've made a rather hollywood-style dramatic shift regarding the phrase "take my word for it." You used to get really upset if we used any variant of that particular phrase, often shouting something along the lines of "Nooo! Don't taaake it!" I think you were genuinely afraid that this meant that we would actually be taking some something from you, but you didn't know what, exactly...anyway, the other day, after a few weeks where this phrase had not been heard in our household, you and I (and Hazel) were waiting to cross the street outside. The sun was angled in such a way that I couldn't really see the walk signal, but evidently you could, because you pointed out that we could cross. I remarked that I couldn't tell, to which you responded "we can go, mama. Take my word for it."

And dontcha know, you were right!

You readily use terms like "metamorphosis" and "hypothesis," and one incredibly fun quirk you've got is how you bastardize big words in completely unrelated play. The other day, while we were on the bus, you invented what I think was basically a pringle-style potato chip that was called a "Mangomorphosis!" (and evidently, it was mango flavored. Perhaps you have a future in marketing.) Emphatic delivery included.

Oh, Cadie B, you rock my world. You're getting way into photography and I have to say, you're getting pretty darn into it. Your artistic endeavors continue to excite and impress me, even when they make me laugh: For instance, you still love to make up songs, and I'll conclude this letter with the chorus to one of my recent favorites. I don't know what inspired it originally, but here it is, presented without judgement, but a lot of love:

"I can't find my dad because he's lost and impatient!"

Keep on keepin' on, my beautiful darling. I'm so, SO excited for you as you begin what promises to be a pretty magical journey into the world of education. I love you, little bug. You're still my amazin' b, and I am so, incredibly proud of you.

Love Always,

Mama

Dear Cadence, Month 37

Dear Cadence,

While I was in the kitchen cutting up a watermelon shortly after your birthday, you came into the kitchen, watched me for a moment, and then said: "Don't cut yourself, or I won't have a mommy to keep me safe!" I assured you that I was being careful, but even if I happened to cut myself I probably wouldn't die. While my heart melted a little.

You said that well before the major medical event we had this month actually took place, but I think it sets the mental scene well. We all worry about each other, and often take it to unnecessary extremes, but in the end we're all taking care of each other and doing a pretty fine job of it.

Alas, accidents can happen no matter how careful you are, and ultimately that is also just part of growing up. It was bedtime, you were lying on our bed in front of me, and it was time for your goodnight kiss. You put out your arm and I took your hand to help you up, but just as I did you flung yourself over and off the bed, jokingly running away from the goodnights...it took us quite a while to parse what had happened since you have a stoically high pain tolerance, but as best we can figure, you got hit with Nursemaid's Elbow...the ligaments in your arm slipped out of place, as is common in kids your age when they get yanked around. It's not particularly serious if dealt with right away, but it is extremely painful and should be set by someone who knows what they're doing, so off you and Baba went to make your first ever ER visit.

I of course felt AWFUL, and while I know it was an accident and no one is truly at fault, I can't help feeling immensely guilty at having played any role at all in such an unpleasant experience. I wanted to take you in myself, but Hazel is too young to go into an ER if she doesn't need to, too many potentially dangerous germs, and since she refuses a bottle I couldn't leave her home with anyone else, so I stayed home with her while Baba stuck you in your mayawrap with the platiduck under your good arm, and lovingly carried his baby girl to get the help she needed.

Thankfully all the drama cleared up relatively quickly. Evidently things slipped back into place on their own while you were waiting to see the doctor, because all of a sudden you perked up and said it didn't hurt anymore. The triage nurse had already confirmed that nursemaids was the most likely culprit, and when Baba updated her about your sudden improvement, she said that it often does fix itself on its own that way. And it's one of those merciful problems that actually does feel completely better within a few minutes of the fix. So, they let Baba take you home without waiting around anymore (it was like 2am already by the time it clicked back to normal) and called a few days later to check in and make sure it had stayed fixed without any problems, which it had, so that was that.

You are growing up so fast, and you can just taste it...the day after your birthday you started talking about how you're almost 4, you're 3 but you're going to be four...and now when we suggest that we do something -anything, really - you'll respond with some variation of "that's a good idea. let's do that when I'm 4."

One of your absolutely favorite things to do these days is to take hazel walking, holding hands. Obviously, she can't walk on her own yet, but in large part due to your influence she is gaining skills like nobody's business. You'll hold her hand, and I'll offer support around her ribcage, and the two of you will walk all over the apartment..up and down the hall, around the living room...step step step...you seem so proud of your little protege, and you offer her words of encouragement and praise, and you incorporate it into your games, and sometimes you even offer her tips, showing her where to put her feet or how to move her leg into the proper alignment. She bears weight and does all the stepping on her own, and she's getting quite good at it. You seem to be a very positive influence on her, Cadie B, your a gentle, kind, understanding teacher and that is very awesome. I'm so proud of my little bitty big girl awesome big sister Cadie B lady!!!

It is, in large part, due to the connection and closeness you have with your sister that you were able to facilitate (read: guilt me into) all four of us taking a more expensive than we can truly afford trip to Phoenix for Dan & Poonam's wedding. You were their flower girl, and once we realized how expensive it would be, we opted to send you and Baba alone. It was a tough and unlikeable decision, so it wasn't that hard to push me over the edge, but when you got sad and teary and I finally got the reason out of you, and that reason was "it just makes me really sad that my sister won't get to see me be a flower girl!" well...my heart kinda shattered and that was that. And it ended up being an AWESOME trip, and so beneficial to all of us, we're all so grateful that we had that experience...so thank you for that, my lady.

That trip is a beast and a half to talk about though, because it was so rich and rife with awesome adventures and little tidbits that are impossibly to adequately summarize. Since you guys had tickets already and I just got the cheapest deal I could find, we flew separately, which was actually kind of nice, I think, because you got to have some serious quality Baba time that you've been craving lately. You've traveled a number of times with just me, but this was the first time you got to travel with just Baba. It sounds like you guys had a really fun journey.

The day after we all arrived, Poonam invited us to come hang out with her family at her brother Jeet's house. He and his wife, Kelly, have two boys, Aidan and Kyle, and evidently (I was unable to join you because the airline lost my luggage and I had to spend the day at the mall trying to find clothes that would work for black tie and nursing at the last minute...oi) you took to them very quickly, and made fast friends. By the time I joined up with you all for the rehearsal that evening, you couldn't have cared less about us being around. And thus the overall theme of the week was set: Good Friends.

There was also one other kid in your little pack, a younger boy also named Aidan, and the four of you ran pretty loose throughout the events. I have to say it was kind of amazing to be at these big functions, but, given that they were attended only by trusted family and friends, and most of the time we were actually in Jeet and Kelly's house, we didn't have to worry much about you at all - saftey wise (Big Aidan seemed quite the valiant protector, and you were in a clean, safe environment with tons of good people about), or entertainment wise. You are SUCH a good girl, cadence, you'd check in with us, quite briefly, every 20 minutes or so, and then head right back to your playing, for hours on end. I was so pleased; you seemed to be loving it, and it meant that baba and I were more able to hang out with our friends, too, instead of chaperoning you in the playroom...which we certainly wouldn't have begrudged, but it was gratifying to see you playing with other kids.

I think you miss those kids quite a bit...whenever you hear someone say "boo" you get really excited and cry "that's Little Aidan's word! Little Aidan says boo!" and you talk about them all the time. You came away from this trip with so much...great friends, wonderful new stories, an a new understanding of what it means to be part of a pack. I love it.

And oh, Cadie B can I just say...what an AMAZING flower girl you were?? Seriously, you did it SO well... You walked slowly and didn't panic, even though the crowd was all staring, ooing, ahhing and taking pictures, you dropped petals in an even way, and behaved in a calm, mature (but classically little girl!) manner, and you even went up and handed the officiant a petal before returning to your seat (though, you still had some petals in your basket and wanted to walk back up the aisle and drop them all, but you were so good and returned to your seat next to Baba...and then, after the ceremony, once everyone left, you got back up and dropped them as you walked bak up the aisle, emptying the basket right at the end. LOVE). It was SO impressive.

Oh, and a cute little anecdote worth mentioning: when you were still a little baby, when you'd get upset you'd bend over and put the top of your head on the floor while keeping your legs straight. Because of the proportion of your limbs and torso at the time, you formed a perfect triangle with both your feet and hands flat on the floor and your arms and legs straight up and down, top of your head perfectly touching the floor. We dubbed this "pentapodding" because you looked like a tripod, but with five 'legs'...anyway, you have grown quite a bit since then and your proportion no longer allows for such theatrics. While we were at Jeet & Kelly's place, though, you were attempting to revisit it, and discovered that while you can no longer pentapod, trying to do so was a perfect lead in for a forward roll...and thus you invented what you happily declared to be "tumblepodding!"

I wasn't with you on the flights home, either, but I wanted to share with you a little blurb that Baba wrote about your trip. He writes:

"Cadence was asleep as we landed for our layover in Atlanta. We were staying on the same plane, but had a couple hours before the next flight, so I figured I'd just let her keep sleeping since we'd had to get up so early that morning. The crew was actually changing for the next flight, so we weren't technically supposed to remain on board, but a flight attendant offered to stay on until the next crew came so that Cadie could keep sleeping. Eventually, though, I decided that we should get off the plane and get some food, so I gently woke Cadence up.

"Cadence, do you want to go and get something to eat?"

*groggily* "yeah…"

"Okay, well let's get off the airplane then."

"NO! If we get off the airplane we'll have to jump and we'll fall through the air!!!"

"Oh, it's okay honey! We've already landed, we're on the ground, you were asleep."

"Oh, okay."

Sweetie.

You know what has shocked and amazed us the most this month? Your vocabulary. Your words have simply exploded this month in a way I didn't think was possibly anymore, given how much you talk and how wide your vocabulary already was. But I have plenty of quotes to help me show how mind-blowing your articulation has become in the past few weeks:

For context, you'll need to know that another favorite game you have is being a thief. Not of things, but of vegetables. Particularly leafy greens. Whatever we've prepared for the meal - arugula, spinach, lettuce, kale, beet greens, chard...you'll warn us that "there's a spinach thief about!" and then while we're eating you'll 'sneak' around to our plates and eat the greens off of them! If you're feeling particularly bold, you'll snatch it right off the fork before we can get it to our mouths! And of course, this is all in good fun, we play along and play it up because, let's face it, you're having fun and eating really healthy foods, so why knock it? If you take it too far or if for some other reason it's inappropriate, we let you know and you reign it in, albeit somewhat dejectedly, so for the most part, we let you have at it.

Here's where I finally get around to that vocabulary I was talking about: Early on this month, we were sitting down to dinner and you began to warn us about the potential thievery by saying, quite slyly: "I have a tendency to steal things."

While we were in phoenix, there was one day where we were in the car on the way to Aidan and Kyle's house, and Jeet asked who was hungry...Baba and I responded with simple answers along the line of "oo, me!" or "I am, I am!" but then here comes little 3 year old Cadence, who says with a grin "oh, I'm particularly hungry!"

Or the time I was trying to get my socks on while holding Hazel, and you sidled up next to me, pointed at them, and said: "you know, sometimes I steal things, and those are potentially my gloves."

Sometimes, though, I fear that your vocabulary is a bit of a barrier to you...not with adults, certainly, but with other kids...like the other day, when I took you to the playground, and you were trying to play with the big kids by going up to them and saying "how do you do?" and trying to hold adult conversations with them...and my lovely, as amazing as that is, it just doesn't serve you much when you're standing in the midst of a somewhat run-down inner city playground. That place is a beast unto itself...these kids are not bad kids, certainly, but there is a certain cutthroat mentality and pattern of behavior they have - and need to have, really - which I don't know how to prepare you for, and without which you will be nearly literally doomed while off in the wilds of it. You need to learn to stand up for yourself (you cannot fathom taking your own turn on the slide. You will ALWAYS get up and let someone else go before you. Which is totally sweet, except that you will do this no matter how many times the other kids go by you, and suddenly you've spent your entire playtime letting other people take your turn and you're still at the top being quietly patient. Seriously kid, sometimes we even have to yell at you to take your own turn and play. it's infuriating) but I don't think hurling you unarmed into the pit is the best way to do so.

It's times like that day, when it was just one thing after another in terms of kids choking each other, torturing one another, creating surprisingly dangerous conditions for each other, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from getting into a major spat with another mom, and then to top it all off, after you had agreed to stay on the 'baby' side of the playground which you are too big for just to avoid the brutality of the older kids, and even then you ended up with a split lip...those are the times I feel the most guilty for taking you away from your friends and family in Kentucky.

Actually, no. Those are the times I'm most aware of the differences between NYC and KY. The times I feel most guilty are the times you say things like: "mama, I miss my nana and papa and kelly...I want to see them again. When are we going to live closer so we can see them?"

way to break my heart, kid.

But then I think of all the amazing things that you do get to experience living here, and I think of the school you'll be starting soon (SO! AWESOME!) and all the wonderful opportunities being here is going to provide our whole family, and it eases the pain, just a little, and reaffirms our decision to do our best to find a way to spend summers elsewhere, or something along those lines, for the good of us all.

And then conversations like the following happen, and I think we must be doing something right, and I just get so overwhelmed with love for you...I think life is pretty derned grand, overall, my little lovebug.

Baba: "Oo, look at that cloud, Cadence! isn't it puffy?"

Cadence: "yeah, but it's in the sky, so we can't sit on it."

Love Always,

Mama

Dear Cadence: Month 36

Dear Cadence

Another birthday? I am so not prepared for this! HOW ARE YOU GROWING SO MUCH?????

Well, my dear, however you're doing it, you're doing it quite well. Happy 3rd birthday, my love!

The most consistent theme of the past month has been a continued and increased sense of commraderie with your sister. You're looking forward to sharing a room with her, and as I left the room with her after putting you to bed the other night, instead of your usual protests you called after me: "Sweet dreams, Hazel!" Of course, you would rather that I'd left her there, since a big thing for you has been wanting hazel to stay with you at night. You're super proud of her, and still tell absolutely everyone your encounter, whether you know them or not, that you just had a new baby sister! Then you introduce her and talk at length about how you take care of her...it's really sweet and remarkable...though it does have a tendency to slow us down a bit. It takes a long time to have that conversation with so many people in the course of a single commute!

Our journey to go walk Charlie begins each day with these introductions to anyone else who happens to be waiting for the bus with us in the shade of the little tree down on the corner. These conversations exhausted, your attention usually turns to the Dunkin' Donuts that sits on the corner across the street. I think because it's got funky bubble letters in cute colors, and you can see it while sitting on the steps of the apartment building by the bus stop, usually without leaving the shade, that you've latched on to this one particular sign, but each day we'll look at it and you'll read out each letter; first the orange word, then the pink one, spelling out D-U-N-K-I-N' D-O-N-U-T-S...you only have trouble with the 'K', because in its bubble-font form it looks a bit too much like an 'x' for your taste, but even that doesn't really trip you up much anymore. I've been doing my darndest lately to try to get you to take it the next step and sound out the letters to figure out what they spell, alas, you inevitably get about halfway through one word (whichever you've chosen to start with) and decide you're "tired" of reading and want to do something else. Which is fine, I'd rather keep it lighthearted for now, I know that if I persist without pushing you will eventually figure it all out. I just hope you enjoy the journey.

And you have certainly been learning! You've been practicing your writing a lot lately, and are learning how to spell very simple words. Especially your name...you know how to spell it, though you usually get coy when we ask you or point out that you know. You can write very recognizable letters, when you're in the mood...A is one of your favorites to write, your 'c's are coming along nicely, and D, H, V, E, F are all decent, but you claim your favorite is W. (Your M's aren't bad either...O and P...basically most of your letters are there, to varying degrees of execution, but I'm plenty proud regardless. You only just turned 3. You're doing just fine.

Your precociousness is growing with your age, too, in ways that are often at once heartwarming and squirm-worthy...you certainly keep us on our toes, kiddo. Like how you have taken to tricking me into letting you wake Baba up when he's sleeping but you want to play with him. You'll know that you're supposed to let him sleep, but you also know that sometimes I will give you permission to wake him up - though usually I only do that if it's a certain time, like after 9am, for example, but I guess you wouldn't really know that outright...but anyway, you'll do things to get me to say something that you can them creatively interpret as permission to wake him up. For instance, the other day you found his goggles, brought them to me and, knowing full well who's they were, asked me who they belonged to. I told you they were Baba's and you said that you would give them to him. I thought you meant you'd give them to him when he got up, so I said ok...but instead you ran into the bedroom and woke him up to give him the goggles. Smart kid.

That said, you are generally a remarkably considerate kid. You think of others before yourself more often than not, and statements like this one are commonplace: After I poured you some orange juice, you berated me for giving you too much, and said: "I only wanted a little 'cause if I drank it all up there wouldn't be any for you and baba, and I want you guys to have some, too."

You also do a remarkable job of explaining yourself to us...the best example I have of this is a bit odd, but it certainly works...you and baba were playing some game and you wanted him to ride a broomstick like a witch. He was pretending not to know how as part of the game, and so you were trying to give him very clear instructions. It was a difficult task, it is kind of a strange thing to describe, and after a couple of less than successful attempts, you thought about it for a moment before very authoritatively telling him: "You put it under your penis," and then, as you demonstrated stepping onto the broomstick to prepare to ride, you thought to clarify, adding "I'm a girl, so I put it under my vulva." and then off you went, leaving your parents in awe of your blunt truth.

Your play has certainly evolved into a very complicated undertaking...you have characters, stories, costumes, settings, very varied endeavors...you have some consistent rules, like how you use the term "honey" to refer to a child ("this is my honey!" you'll say, or "no, that one's the mama, and this is her honey.") and the term "love" to refer to a spouse ("that one is her love, and this is their honey.") But some rules only apply to some games...and sometimes its more of a class of games, if that makes sense. You have a class of games revolving around "the cake making show" (Food Network Challenge). You have a recurring character that is the Princess of Cakes, and sometimes I hear you declaring "3-2-1 stop your work!" Sometimes you'll be building with your blocks and I will ask you what you're working on and you'll tell me "it's a cake that looks like a building!" You certainly seem to enjoy that one. I always find it endearing when you turn to me and ask "is the cake making show on?"

I predict a lot of fancy cakes in our future. Probably not this year, though...your Nai nai is very excited to make you your birthday cake this year (your party isn't until the 11th). As per your very specific request, it's going to be a chocolate cake with GREEN frosting. We didn't have cake today, but we didn't need it...we've had QUITE the adventure today already. After walkin' charlie (and having a great day in general) we headed to the Museum of Natural History so that you could see the 'dead dinosaurs'. You were SO excited, and it was wonderful to get to experience it with you, little lady. I have to admit, I've always been a bit creeped out by the fossils, and have never spent much time in that room or enjoyed the experience of seeing fossilized skeletons before, but getting to see it through your eyes, it was fascinating and SO MUCH FUN...I genuinely enjoyed my time there, and you certainly enjoyed yours...thank you for that gift Cadie B...that was a truly unique experience that was totally something you taught to me. Beautiful.

We had such a great time that day, starting off with the folks at the bus stop giving you your own dollar for your birthday, and then at the museum (which you oh so cutely pronounce "muse-EE-ya-yum") the first security guard we met was so kind and played with you, the second let us in for free since it was your birthday, the third picked you up after you fell and broke the bucket (full of plastic sea creatures) that you'd picked out from the gift shop as your birthday gift, and raced through the closing museum, cinematically radioing other gurads to open locked doors and winding through off-limits exhibits, just to get you a new bucket...it was truly amazing and such a great show of good humanity. And then at shack shake (uptown) after that, they gave you a free custard without even knowing it was your birthday...you are a special lady honeybug, and everyone can see it.

Baba had to work that day, but your sister and I LOVED getting to hang out and celebrate with you all day long. watching you chase pigeons in the park afterwards, and play with other kids there...what a great day.

and ending it all in song...oh Cadence I can't describe how much it means to me that you have started wanting me to sing to you every night again. I spent so much (all) of your babyhood singing to you constantly, it has been a little sad in this interim time when you refused to let me sing, but I respected your wishes and let you alone...now we're building music back into our daily routine and it just feels very right. Thank you for this gift, too.

Oh, and it's also very gratifying to hear you belting Moonshadow at the top of your lungs. I have very distinct memories of what if felt like and the images in my head when my dad would sing me that song when I was little, and for whatever reason I couldn't wait to sing that particular song to you when you were born...I expected it to feel somehow different, to be on the other side of it, but instead I quickly found that I got the same comfort and feelings from singing it to you as I did from hearing my dad sing it to me. It has kind of been 'our song' ever since, too.

Thank you, also, for that gift, my amazing, 3 year old girl.

I love you SOOOOOOOOOOOO much, my ladybug.

Here's to many more amazing years.

Love Always,

Mama

Dear Cadence, month 35

Dear Cadence;

The scene: The Foodtown grocery store across the street from our apartment. You and Baba were browsing through the cucumbers, trying to select the best one, when suddenly there is an avalanche of cucumbers tumbling out of the bin and onto the floor! "aaaaaah!" you screamed, "it's a Cucumber Catastrophe!!!"

You giggled hysterically for about five minutes after that, constantly trying to choke out something about that cucmber being just so silly, but you couldn't get the words out over the laughter. I figured out what you were trying to say during the subsequent five or 10 minutes where you were forcing yourself to keep laughing, while you gasped that you just couldn't stop laughing because that cucmber was SO silly, mama, just SO SILLY!

Which pretty much sums up your sense of humor right now. The silly phase, coupled as always with your thoughtfulness, intelligence, and truly sweet nature, has hit full force. You seem to find it quite amusing to stick your butt at someone singing "butt! butt! I butt you!"

I think, however, that the intelligence, bravery, and thoughtfulness you've displayed this month offset the sillies so much that you still seem like a child well beyond your years. Sometimes you seem downright adult, and I often find the need to remind myself that you're only 2. You're such a gentle, wise soul, and you take everything we throw at you in stride.

Sometimes you even call us out when we deserve it. One evening not long ago I spoke quite sternly to you, about what I can't recall, except that you were somehow inhibiting my ability to accomplish some task, and thus I admonished you. While I was in the right to ask you to stop, I was perhaps more gruff than I needed to be, and it wasn't really fair. The next morning you meandered in while I was doing the laundry, and broke my heart by saying, quite earnestly: "Mama, you're nice. You shouldn't yell at me if you're nice."

We talked about the incident, and I explained the difference between being stern and actually yelling (which, thankfully, we do very little of these days) but acquiesced, and apologized for being unfairly sharp the night before. I was totally amazed at your bravery in coming to talk to me about it. It takes a lot of guts to stand up to someone in a position of authority, especially to voluntarily reopen closed emotional wounds to fix them. I had so many mixed emotions in that moment; I felt ashamed for having snapped at you, grateful that you felt comfortable enough to talk to me about it (albeit you did tear up slightly after you'd breached the subject, but that just lends credence to your bravery) and so proud of you for sticking up for yourself, and for actually thinking about and talking out your problems...You really are a truly amazing person Cadence. And that is precisely what makes it so hard for me to remember that you're still considered a toddler.

Another phase that I knew would come eventually, but was slightly surprised to witness in full force this month was the picking-up-the-cats-and-carrying-them-around phase. Credit where credit is due; this is largely due to the fact that we have awesome, tolerant, gentle cats, and you are incredibly gentle yourself. Don't know what the moment specifically was (though I suspect the day Hazel was born and you held Lily's paws off of my stomach so she wouldn't step on & hurt me!) but you realized that you were bigger than they are now, and could potentially pick them up. They're pretty good at keeping themselves out of reach when they really don't want to be manhandled, though sometimes you catch them unawares, or they are willing to play along for a bit, cautiously trusting you. Other times, I think they enjoy the chase as much as you do, they could easily hang out on shelves and such well out of your reach, but instead they zoom about, waiting until you aaalmost have them, then zip right past you, to lay in wait in the other room.

You have also taken an even stronger shine to dancing than you already had. Now, we don't really watch that much TV-a couple kids shows like Sesame Street and Sid the Science Kid, plus Food Network Challenge, Glee, and So You Think You Can Dance? pretty much sums up our weekly tube time, but I have to say, that little bit seems to have a pretty profound effect. The only show you have never asked to watch independently, haven't recreated, and frankly don't always pay much attention to is Glee...and I guess that is really more of an indulgence for Baba and I that we try to get you interested in so you won't feel left out during the hour it's on.

But I digress...I bring this all up just to say that I think watching So You Think You Can Dance? every week has actually been a really good influence on you. It has definitely fueled your interest in dance in general, and it has exposed you to all sorts of different styles, different genres, and you're certainly taking it all in. Not one nuance is lost on you, and how I wish I had a video of the dance concert you put on for me the other day, because it was EPIC in its depth and awesome-ness.

It was an extremely well composed performance. There were at least five different, distinct numbers in it, each lasting several minutes, but each with a distinct beginning and ending. Each dance had its own, very distinct style - lyrical, hip hoppy, contemporary, tap, and there was even one dance that was an afro-haitian type. Your choreography was quite well-rouded, incorporating levels, tempos, moments of stillness, sharp vs. soft movements...it totally floored me, but at the same time...well, it was just you, doing what you enjoy, and you never do anything half way.

Take, for instance, reading! Now that you know all of the letters in the alphabet (at least the capital versions, lower case letters still give you some trouble, especially when faced with funky fonts) you have moved on to actually stringing them together to learn how to read. You get what it is now, and are totally chompin' at the bit to be able to do it one your own. You now read your books to us...the ones you know by heart, anyway, but you follow along the words with your finger sometimes, as if trying to pick up the secret to reading by looking at a word as you're saying it...guess what, that will eventually have an effect...shine on, little star!!

But it isn't just your books. For the first time you seem genuinely interested in the 'grown up' books in the study, frequently asking about them and occasionally asking to see one or have one read to you. (Sometimes you even have Baba read to you from his law books. You inevitably last longer than we expect you to in this endeavor, which results baba reading entire sections aloud and only stopping when he's finished what he needed to do for the day, or needs to use what he'd read in a piece of writing he's working on...and sometimes you'll even through little tantrums when he stops.)

A favorite lately has been Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I think you initially picked it out of the many books on the shelf because of it's pinkish-purple cover, but you took a serious liking to it and I even discovered you 'reading' it to Hazel on day. For the record, she seemed pretty engrossed, too.

So yes, you are remarkably precocious and smart! You've known how to open the refrigerator for quite some time now, but it hasn't been an easy task to accomplish. It's hard to get that thing open, it takes a great deal of force, so I shouldn't have been surprised when, early one morning, as I was trying to comfort a disquieted Hazel, you called for help demanding that I open it for you because it was "too hard" and you just couldn't do it. I was, admittedly, a bit annoyed with your sudden retreat into helplessness, more for the precedent set by catering to your declaration that "I'm just a small girl so I can't do things" when those things are already established abilities...this is perhaps not the best example of that, but you do have a tendency to try to get out of doing things you don't want to do by declaring yourself too weak, too helpless, etc, when in reality you're anything but. I find it truly grating. I guess I just don't like seeing you get into the habit of putting yourself down, even if you are doing it as a way to manipulate others into doing your will. Saavy, that's another word that would describe you.

But back to the fridge...I opened it for you, but declared as I did so that I KNEW you could do it, because I'd seen you do it before. Evidently that was enough of an admonishment for your sensitive soul, because later that morning you wanted something else, and snuck into the kitchen without saying a word, determined to do it on your own and avoid involving me at all.

After trying again to pull it open by the handle and getting frustrated by it, you growled, breathed, then looked hard at it for a moment before moving in for the kill. Evidently you figured out how the mechanism functioned, because your next move was to swiftly move in close to the fridge, crouch down near the bottom and slip your teeny fingers between the door and the frame, breaking the seal and making the door effortless to open. It was so simple. And so carefully thought out. And well executed. I was absolutely impressed with your problem solving, ingenuity, and general smarts...of course that pissed you off and you got really mad at me for mentioning what you'd accomplished. Compliments are still mostly off-limits. Though we are able to sneak a few in here and there these days.

You also take an active role in making things happen for yourself these days, in a way I couldn't have expected. The other day you spilled some bubbles on yourself, and while I worked on cleaning up the spot you'd been sitting in, you went and held your shorts up in front of the fan, so they would dry.

Sometimes you will be playing, and suddenly you'll disappear, gone to wash a dish you'd finished using or get a wet paper towel to scrub the floor where you'd made some mess or other...then you'll bring the clean objects back and stick them in the sun on the windowsill to dry. You never cease to amaze me.

This, coupled with your ability to operate both the deadbolt and knob on the front door (which you've actually been doing for a long while, I just never mentioned it) leads me to believe that you will be running your own household by this time next year.

And that doesn't even take into account all the other amazingly helpful, wonderful things you enjoy doing. If Baba or I mention that we're going to do some sort of chore - really, anything - you shout "I will I will!" and then either do the task for us, or at the very least act as a truly capable assistant. Whether it's helping to clean, retrieve things, put away laundry, get the phone, watch the baby...you name it, you do it, happily.

Oh, and then there was the time I gave you one of Hazel's diapers (clean, obviously) to play with, and watched in amazement as you diapered and then 'changed' your 'baby' (a puppy in this instance). You did it perfectly, and didn't miss a step. The tail threw you a bit, but that would throw me, too...regardless, I was very impressed with how competently you navigated everything from wiping to gently lifting baby's feet to move the diaper on or off and then lowering them before expertly fastening it. You know your Baba didn't know how to do that until after you were born? Kir taught him how to do it while she was visiting us in the hospital. You still have a goal of growing up to be a Mama...you're well on your way kid. No need to rush things, K??

Even your disappointment and sadness is taking on a much more adult character. Take, for instance, the Baby Bell Cheese Incident:

You love the little cheese wheels, and in the past you've enjoyed the sharper red-wax-coated ones. You hadn't had any in probably 6 months or so, though, and as we all know, tastes change. (You also used to love spicy food and would beg for ginger candies. Now you claim not to like chicken or corn because "they're too spicy." No amount of talking can convince you that they're only spicy when spiced, the heat isn't inherent, and that you sometimes like the flavor anyway. But I digress:) You saw some at the grocery store and asked to get the yellow-coated kind, and so we did. You ate them all in two days, and probably would have downed them all in a single sitting had we let you. Since they had been such a hit, we agreed to get some more the next time we went to the store. This time, you got the red kind. Sadly, however, you eagerly tore into one at home, only to find that you didn't like it. The disappointment was devastating, and despite yourself, you broke down and cried. Luckily for you, however, you have an awesome uncle who is totally smitten with you and happens to live with us. Andrew offered to go to the store to get you some yellow ones, and suddenly the world didn't seem so bleak.

Afterwards I was somewhat absent-mindedly balling up and playing with the wax from the red one when you came over and looked at it like it was bringing back horrible memories.

"Do you want me to throw this away so you don't even have to see it anymore?" I asked.

"Yes," you admitted, before walking off down the hall, head hanging. You hesitated as you passed your wagon, and then, with a dejected sigh and matching arm gesture, you lamented "even my wagon is red!" and walked off into living room.

I don't know what it is about you and food. The way it seems to affect you, you'd think we never fed you, when in fact just the opposite is true. You have a fantastic appetite, which is wonderful and gives you plenty of energy for your myriad adventures throughout the day. But lately you've been having a surprising number of nightmares about not being in control of your food.

The first one I thought was just novel, and sadly cute. You woke up screaming in the middle of the night and when I finally got you to respond to my desperate pleas to tell me what what wrong, all you could choke out through the tears was "I didn't want Andrew to cut my favorite chocolate in half!" Then there was a similar incident where you woke up repeating "I want my cheese!" over and over through the sobs, and most recently was the one where you screamed for half an hour straight beginning at 3am because you "didn't want Baba to drink all my orange juice!"

Those dreams mostly subsided, thankfully, with the advent of a new nighttime ritual...over the past few months, when confronted with hugs or kisses you weren't in the mood to receive, you'd taken to 'eating' them; Baba or I would give you a peck on the cheek and you'd pluck it off, and make a great show of stuffing it all in your mouth, chewing it up, and swallowing. This little game has saved us from many a potential meltdown...plus it's really cute. Lately it's expanded to include any warm fuzzies floating about in the air when you're feeling a bit surly, which is kind of a lot, 'cause hey, we reeeeeeaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllllly love you, a lot, so there is plenty of love swirling around you at any given moment...

One night, you were in a rather contrary mood at bedtime, but Baba was determined to give you your goodnight hugs and kisses anyhow. You ate every one he tried to give you, but that gave him an idea. He gave you lots and lots and lots of hugs and kisses, so many that you couldn't possibly keep up with him, and he told you that if you got hungry during the night, you could just eat up all the love you were covered in. You loved it, and now its part of the bedtime routine.

Blessedly, the love in this house is not unidirectional. We are so lucky to have as loving and wonderful a family as we do, and I give thanks for that fact every day...so it was just earth-shatteringly beautiful and such a happy moment for me when I witnessed you turning that special game back on Baba a few days later. He'd just finished filling your overnight stash of hugs and kisses and was getting up to leave when you called him back. "Baba," you said, "if you get hungry during the night you can eat all the love all over you! Even here!" and you indicated the inside of his nose! Baba laughed heartily, thanked you, and told you that he loved you. You responded by declaring, coyly: "I think I'll keep you."

Oh, my little lady, such a special little girl. You have a few quirks that make us worry, just a little bit, like your fear of messes. Sure, sometimes you make messes like any other kid...but then there are times where you spill something or encounter a mess someone else has made and freeze in your tracks, not screaming exactly, but emitting loud, terrified or pained groans and screaming for it to be cleaned up! now! uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh!

The most common unsavory mess that you stumble upon is cat vomit. Lily has a weak stomach and will often throw up if she eats too fast or eats something that's too rich for her, and somehow you almost always manage to be the one to find it. "Oh no, cat puke!" you shout as loud as you can, and if we don't respond quickly enough, you stand there screaming "caaaaaaaat puuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuke!" at the top of your lungs and with increasing urgency until we rescue you from the offense with our trusty cleaning supplies. Recenlty you leanred about hairballs, and I couldn't help giggling to myself the other day when you found some cat vomit that turned out to in fact be a hairball, your usual cry giving way to "oh no, cat balls!" This is really just one somewhat gross example of many subtle differentiations you've been able to make lately.

Another favorite pastime you've adopted is serenading people on the bus. We take the bus down to chelsea every day to walk charlie, and it is a looooong ride for someone your age. You have come up with a wonderful way of combating the boredom, though, and you turn around in your seat and sing to whomever happens to be behind us. Usually, you start with the ABCs and then move on to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and sometimes row row row your boat...and when your audience disembarks, you start over again from the beginning with the next passenger to take that seat.

I'll conclude this letter with your own words. You've grown very articulate, and you have quite the imagination, and so it's not surprising that you've begun to take it to the next logical step: Storytelling. Not only do you invent stories with great fervor, you remember them and retell them many times. Once we can teach you about story archs; I think you'll be unstoppable. Here's a story you've retold a few times recently:

"I'm going to tell a story about my sister. Once upon a time I had a little baby sister named hazel, and she went wee wee wee all the way home to new york. And then the itty bitty one went wee wee wee all the way back to town. And the mama and baba ones went wee wee wee all the way back to New York City. And that's the end of my story."

We love you, amaze-a-bug, and I totally love watching you grow up in every way. Keep on enjoying life, little lady.

Love Always,

Mama