You turned 2 and a half on Friday. You just began Montessori school about a month ago. You have learned to call the hogs, mastered the practical care toys, and been pushed down the slide onto your face. That last one “hurt my feeeelings” or so you told me. Your teacher has taught you lots of new ways of expressing yourself.
Pushed over = they are not my friends, they need to tell me sorry, they hurt my feelings.
Potty in your pants = it’s okay, I just had an accident!
When you brush my hair or want me to wake up in the morning = ok sweetheart ok, usually while patting my back.
Anyway, you like school and they like you, so that’s good.
Your Pa taught you to count to ten in Spanish and that is your preferred way of counting. You learned your ABC’s perfectly a couple months ago, but Montessori doesn’t say the alphabet. Oops.
On the flip side, you can be a brat sometimes. You’ll run away from us and toward streets. You’ll tell us not to tell you no, sometimes you hit us or the dog. Nothing crazy, just enough to remind us you are still two. It’s hard because you are tall and you speak well and when we are being lazy you go to the fridge and get food and juice and bring it to us. You seem like a kid.
Except, you remind us about 15 times a day that “I not a little girl, I a little baby.” And you ask us to hold you like a baby and crawl in our laps and curl up in a ball and let us rock you and it’s very sweet. Nevermind that when you uncurl you are over half my height already.