Dear Miles,

I’m writing this early, because we’re going to be busy on Wednesday, which is your actual 27-month birthday.  What will we be doing?  We’re going to visit your probable preschool.  Preschool, good lord.  I hope it goes okay.  You’ve been having a really difficult time with strangers lately.  I talked to your dad on the phone this morning, and he said you freaked out when a guy came to the house to disconnect our wood-burning stove.  We spent yesterday at a family event, and you had numerous negative reactions to relatives, some of whom you normally like just fine.  I hope it’s just a phase.  We’ve got plenty of time before you actually go to preschool—it won’t be before January, and maybe not even until the fall—but that could be a serious issue if you’re not over it by then.

But there’s plenty of good stuff going on with you too.  You just had your first really active Easter experience.  Last year we skipped it since you were too young to eat candy or appreciate the fun of an egg hunt.  This year, though, you really took off.  We colored eggs the previous week, which you liked doing okay.  Hunting for the plastic eggs with M&Ms inside was way better.   You did a pretty good job finding them, though you’re still distractable.  The Easter Bunny hid one on your toy elephant, which was sitting on the hearth next to the globe.  I suggested that you go look by the globe for it, and you quickly found and identified China and Brazil, but you missed the egg.  That’s okay.  You figured it out eventually, and you had lots of fun shaking the eggs like maracas and opening and closing them.

Your favorite game these days is a variation on peek-a-boo or hide-and-seek.  Sometimes you hide in your closet, sometimes in your bed with all your stuffed animals piled on top of you, and sometimes you just behind your hands.  The cue is always the same.  You say, “Oh, Miiiiiles” in a singsong voice, which your playmate is supposed to say during the process of hunting for you.  Your playmate then has to look various places, and sometimes you even make suggestions about where the person ought to look.  Recently, as I searched for you, a little voice from the closet said, “high chair.”  You tricked me, though.  You weren’t in your high chair at all.

The nice spring weather has gotten you hooked once again on the playground and other outdoor activities.  We go to the playground just about every day, and you’re now confident at scrambling around the play structure and going down the slides, even the big twirly slide, all by yourself.  After you accomplish that task, you proudly say, “No help!”

The warm weather has also increased your interest in nudity.  Over the course of one warm day, you went from insisting on wearing your fleece footie pajamas (“pengies”) to preferring nude legs at night.  It can be tough to get clothes on you, and sometimes you stay in a semi-nude state until the day’s activities legally require you to wear clothes.  All the same, sometimes you get upset if those around you aren’t sufficiently dressed.  I woke you up one morning wearing a tank top, and you got grumpy with me and said “Too nude!  Too nude!” until I put on a sweater.

You love singing songs now, especially ones that have fill-in-the-blank aspects.  You sing, “Old MacDoggal had farm.  E I E I OOOOOOO!” and delight in furnishing the animal names and noises.  You do your own spin on “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” by adding other stops, such as tummy and diaper.  You like to have me replace the word Elmo with various things in Elmo’s theme song, and a recent favorite involves me singing, “La la la la, la la la la, Mommy-Daddy-Miles-Nana-Papa-Mubby-Skittergramps song.”  You don’t want to leave anyone out, and sometimes the lists get even longer.

We spent time with Nana as well as Mubby and Skittergramps this month.  You and Mubby made cookies, and you had your usual favorite morning time with Skittergramps.  You’re getting good at knowing what each person’s favorite beverage is, and Skittergramps is looking forward to you ordering an IPA for him when we go to California this summer.  I’m not sure you fully comprehend California, but you like to say it, and we look at it on the globe.  You’re going to have a great time, especially with the easy access to Uncle Larry’s swimming pool.

You’re finally getting a little more hair, too.  I swore I would never inflict hair gel on a child, but I don’t know what else could tame those fluffy-yet-tenacious cowlicks.  That’s okay.   I think they’re cute, just like the rest of you.

Love,

Mommy