Dear Avery, 

A month before your second birthday, you woke up a long-legged, fully conversational, scooter riding, defiant, saucy, willful, tricycle riding, and highly opinionated toddler.  You and Zealand are a pair of blue eyed bandits close in height, together determined to overturn pots, disrupt carefully folded piles of laundry, and dig up seedlings hoping to grow from the ground.  Overturned glasses of milk, mysterious water spills, and the such follow your zig zag wake through the house and yard.      

You will stand back surveying the scene with your thumb in your mouth resting on your other hand while your fingers brush your upper lip.   Zealand loves it when you become mischievous.  He thinks it give him permission to do whatever you are doing without consequences.   And, you of course love it when Zealand is laughing uproariously over whatever it is you are doing.   The naughtier the better, of course.

J.D. Salinger once famously said, "Mothers are all slightly insane."  I couldn't agree more.  The two of you keep me busy and yes, make me slightly insane.  Just this morning you both walked out the front door half dressed while I was in the bathroom and within minutes you were both halfway down the court giggling and running.  

I have to admit a rather funny development in our family is your adoption of many of Zealand's less than pleasant behaviors.   Did I say funny?  Yes, see above.  

You will say with a stern and serious face in a dark and dramatic tone, "Mama, Don't say that."  Or, "Mama, get that for me, NOW."  The demands lack all of the fire that came with Zealand and is just you aping your beloved brother.  We all smile.

This is not to say that you lack your own iron will.  Increasingly you have an opinion about every aspect of your day.  You want to sit up on the high stools, the "island,"you do not want to sit in your booster chair, you want your pajama top left on, etc.  Each protest is accompanied by furious howls, tears, and a wiggly body.  

At this point in your young life you are perfectly content to just muck it up with Zealand.  It isn't often that you play on your own.  There are only a few toys that you have taken sole ownership of - your baby, and now Pooh bear, "teddy bear," has become important.  I can't remember if Uncle Barclay gave this to Zealand or to you.  For all practical purposes the bear is now yours.  Zealand tried half heartily the other night to get to the bottom of who the bear really belongs to.  He is pretty sure that it is his bear.  But, he lost interest after a few minutes.  

I know you are interested in playing dolls, mothering and caring, there is just so little time and space for this sort of thing, yet.  The other day we put a diaper on Pooh bear and you were just thrilled.  Last week we went on a walk with the mother of one of Zealand's preschool friends and afterwards we stopped at their two little girl household for a visit.   

The front room had a small chair, pretend kitchen, doll bed, many dolls, and even better a live grey kitty cat who was not at all phased by a little girl's interest.  The cat was curled up in an o shape in his tiny bed.  You suddenly exploded into a dramatic show of imaginary play.  First you were making food for kitty in the kitchen, which you brought over for the kitty to "eat."  You tried to lift the kitty into a chair, and at one point you excitedly sat in a chair so that you could read to kitty.  

After it was abundantly clear that kitty was not in fact hungry and was going to remain curled up in a ball, you moved on to the dollies.  You were keen on strapping one on the dolls into their infant car seat.  I think you could have stayed for hours, but alas, time to pick up Zealand at preschool. 

Sometimes I feel like more often than not I am pulling you away from things rather than allowing you to fully explore your interests.  When we drop off Zealand at preschool I am pulling little hands away from tall paintbrushes, steering you away from gobs of fresh play dough, and then rather abruptly, it must seem, lifting you up so that we can leave.   

I have such a clear image of your face as you watch Zealand during his gymnastics class.  You insist on watching the entire thing and you will narrate, "Zealand's turn, "there is ZZ."  Your eyes are so wide and you are just hanging on every move.   You want so badly to jump in the ring. 

Your turn will come.  And when it does I am quite certain you will spin, tumble, shine, and glow with the best of them.  In the meantime, I think it time I sign you up for your own class.  You are, after all, almost two.  I love you sweet girl. 

-Mama