Tuesday, March 19th, 2013
2 years, 4 months.
*Warning: Contains oversharenting.
My style of bathing you, compared to Mommy’s, is much more observational than it is hands-on. I basically just let you play for 15 minutes, then I hurry up and scrub you down at the very end.
I love watching “The Jack Show.” So entertaining.
Anything and everything becomes a toy. Like a cup. Or a spoon.
Last week you grabbed a cup, and then immediately afterwards, a spoon, to capture your… well, I’ll just quote you:
“It’s my tummy!”
You were so proud of yourself for “catching” what you thought was simply an extension of your stomach.
I guess, technically, or actually, it is.
Mommy and I have talked about it several times, but we still haven’t been able to figure out what words to teach you for that, or those.
Nothing seems right. Saying the actual word feels too… official. Saying a nickname feels too… ridiculous. It’s too soon, I think.
We are in that interesting limbo state where it doesn’t come up enough in daily conversation for you to really need to know what to call it, or them.. Really, that bath last week was the first and only time I’ve ever heard you recognize what’s underneath your diaper.
Granted, you watch me “go potty” nearly everyday; running over to catch a front-row seat for the action. So maybe you just assume that’s what people’s tummies look like? Or at least boys’ tummies.
Until further notice, it’s your tummy.
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