The Callum Chronicle #37

Filed under: — Aprille @ 10:42 am

Dear Callum,

It’s been a snowy couple of weeks, and you’ve been so frustrated being stuck inside.  We’ve been trying to get you outside when we can, but you’re too little to play in the yard by yourself, and my threshold for standing around watching you stamp in the snow is pretty low.  Maybe when it warms up a bit the snow will be snowman worthy, and I’d be willing to get involved with that.  You love helping your dad shovel snow, which I’m sure slows things down for him.  It reminds me of how much you love to help me cook dinner.  Most of the time I try to take the long view and let you help, figuring it’s an educational experience and time well-spent together.  Other times I just need to get dinner on the table in a limited amount of time.  You don’t like that so much.

I have found that a key to a successful life with a toddler is building twice as much time into any plan than you think it will require.  I guess it’s like a construction project, a human construction project.

You’ve been soaking up your brothers’ attention like crazy lately.  Miles has been having a lot of fun with you.  He’s been giving you airplane rides (complete with turbulence), and you ask him to do it over and over until he’s exhausted.  We have a real airplane trip coming up next month, and I bet it’s going to feel like a letdown compared to Miles’s version.  I wasn’t feeling well yesterday afternoon, and Tobin did such a good job playing with you.  You’re sitting next to me right now as I write this, and when you saw the picture below, you got a huge smile and said, “That’s my guy!”

I’ve been seeing and hearing evidence of your brain growth lately.  You’ve been skipping steps (or unconsciously performing them in your head), which seems to me like signs that you’re getting more sophisticated in your thought patterns.  For example, you and Tobin were going to take a bath together the other night (which, along with taking showers with Tobin, is one of your VERY favorite things to do).  Your special gentle shampoo was in the downstairs shower from the last time you took a shower with Tobin down there, but we needed it upstairs to use in the bathtub.  Your dad and I were talking to each other about it.  It went something like, “Oh, we need the gentle shampoo.”  “Tobin’s down there…”  And without anyone connecting the dots for you or even directly addressing you, you stood at the top of the stairs and shouted, “Tobin, bring me my shampoo!”

I guess that’s probably normal development for a little guy, but every step of progress you make feels like a great innovation to me.  Maybe it’s because you’re one of my favorites.

We haven’t made much progress on the potty-training front, but after having potty-trained two kids now, I’m going with the approach that worked for Tobin:  booty camp.  When it gets warmer out, we’ll have a nude weekend (just you; no need to frighten the UPS guy) when you can have all the beverages you want, cleaning up accidents as they happen, until it clicks.  Tobin really didn’t need more than a few days, an he was virtually accident-free after that.  It was pretty low-drama.  I hope it works as well for you.  You can’t go to preschool until you’re potty-trained, and while I’m not in a big rush for that, I would really like to stop changing diapers.

Ever since Miles took over the room that previously housed the changing table, I’ve been changing your diapers in the master bedroom.  Combined with the stomach bug that’s been roaring through our family, some very nasty smells have lingered in there.  That is not my ideal sleeping situation.  Here’s to the future.

Your current favorites:  pajamas, especially the dinosaur ones and the glow-in-the-dark skeleton ones; painting; shoveling snow; Peppa Pig; cookies from Trader Joe’s; cuddling in bed; and Dum-Dums lollies (except the root beer flavor).

I love your smiles, your big hugs, and all the time I am so fortunate to be able to spend with you.  You’re my sidekick, a fixture at your big brothers’ school due to all the visits you make when we do volunteer work, my special pal.  My lap would be so empty without you.



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