Enough with the diapers already.

Dear Sophie,

You are almost three years old. More importantly, you no longer wet the bed at nights. Repeatedly I've told you that you can stop wearing diapers to bed, but you insist. Why do you like them so much? This totally confounds me. I figured this would be a baby "thing" and that you would proudly declare that you no longer need them. If this continues a week or so longer, I'm afraid I'm going to have to hide them all. I don't know how much longer I can in good ecological conscience continue to put you in diapers for no other reason than they keep you bum warm--at least that's what you told me once when I asked. The answer would have been valid if it weren't for the fact that our heat is paid for so our house stays quite warm. So Sophie, if you are reading this blog, just know, your diaper days are numbered.

Sophie can spell her name

Sophie spelled her name correctly this morning during breakfast.

Running Commentary

"Poopy coming! I need potty now!"

She runs to the bathroom. There is a short clatter, and then:

"Poopy coming out my bum!"

Her mother and I look at each other.

"Now duh PeePee!"

A pause, and then a mutter:

"to make mo' water."

Choices

"I want you pick a book now."

"Okay."

"NOOOOO! Not DAT one!"

Things Sophie told me in the car today

After work Sophie and I went to run an errand. As we were waiting behind another car to pull out on to the street, my backseat driver called out, "Come on dude, get out of my mommy's way!"

I couldn't laugh appropriately because there is no way I wanted to encourage that.

Sophie, this is no way to gain my confidence to let you drive when you are older.

Later as we passed a church with a stained glass window of Jesus, Sophie, with deep conviction, said, "I love Jesus."

Sophie is in a "love" stage. She loves just about everything, including apparently now Jesus.

The Great Binkie Blight

Yesterday, or the day before, we reached the beginning of the end of binkies.

Sophie had chewed through her last two to the degree that her mother and I cut most of the rubber sucking part off, leaving just a nubbin.

"Wow! I surprised my binkie break like DIS!" Sophie said when we nervously presented her with our handiwork.

She then proceed to grip the nubbin tightly in her teeth so that she might at least approximate the binkie experience. Her mother turned red trying not to laugh at her.

That night, I looked in on her and found her sleeping on her back, binkie grasped tightly in her teeth.

Today, she somehow came into possession of an unblemished, un-bitten-on binkie. I have no idea where from. She claims to have found it in her room, which is plausible. I half suspect her of pilfering her binkie from her cubby at daycare, or maybe taking it off one of the other kids there.

"Where did you get that?" I ask.

"Over dere," she says, gesturing vaguely.

What do you dream about?

Tonight Sophie asked me before she went to bed, "Mommy, what do you dream about?" Wow, that was a hard, unexpected question. I told her beaches, warm weather and camping. Then I told her we would be going to another beach and camping with our friends. Then she gave me two thumbs up, a funny response and as unexpected as her question.

better late than never: Christmas, Snow and Santa

Bye bye binkie?

Sophie has two binkies (pacifiers) left.

She has taken to chewing vigorously on them, and even the two that are left have the beginnings of holes in them.

We've told her that she's done with binkies when she turns three, but at this rate we'll have to move up that date a month or two. When they get too ragged we throw them away, lest she choke on/swallow little pieces of rubber.

She doesn't quite understand this, and has repeatedly asked us if this means she's not two anymore.

Two and three quarters is a magical time full of possibilites, apparently. We've assured her that we'll give her ample warning before her birthday comes, but she still seems to think that her birthday might come at any moment.

Christmas Tree

We took down the Christmas tree tonight, a process that Sophie found incredibly exciting.

"Wow, you big!" she said, as she watched me unravel the string of lights from the top of the tree.

Then came the bit where I pulled on the top and the tree came apart in four little sections.

"Oh ... my ... gosh," she said, "look what you dids! Mamma! Dis tree comes off and dis little tree!"

(I have no idea where the "Oh ... my ... gosh" comes from, but it's delivered deadpan and in a cadence that makes it sound like she's thirty-five and has just heard, did you hear?, that Janie left Bob for the Cabana Boy. Oh ... my ... gosh).

Role Play

She's overjoyed to be reunited with Mommy Elmo, Daddy Elmo, and Baby Elmo.

She has assigned us roles so that the whole family can get in on the fun.

Her mother is Daddy Elmo, she is Baby Elmo, and I am Mommy Elmo.

"Daddy! Daddy!" she says.

"Yes?" I say.

"Noooo! Not YOU!" she says to me, "I'm talking DADDY".

It's all very confusing.

back from a week at the beach

Sophie loved the beach, so did we. We had the ocean less than 1/2 block from our aptly named beach house. It turns out that a small child can go down to the beach every day for a week, sometimes as many as three times in a day, and still want to go back for more.

mommy poo-poo

Sophie described the size of her poop in terms of family. She told us she had a mommy poopie.

The other day, she told us she was making a family of poop, a mommy poop, a daddy poop and a baby poop.