You are napping. For 45 minutes you rolled around in your crib, at first yawning and rubbing your eyes, and then suddenly flipping onto your back and ramming your sleep-sacked feet against the crib bars while yelling "Noooooo! Nooooooo!" Then you just conked out. It's cool how that works.
I would first like to address the reason that I haven't been posting pictures lately. Our computer was being repaired, which took more than 3 weeks, and I can only imagine that this means it was repaired in Antarctica by tiny penguins who first had to learn what a computer is and then got to work on it. And then sent it back by bus. I'm sure I could have figured out a way to download pictures from our camera to some other device, or just use pictures from my phone, like the one of you and Emerson in the park. But I would prefer to waste a paragraph of this letter on excuses. You'll learn this about me.
Anyway, the reason our computer needed help was because someone (you) likes to pluck at the keys until they come off, smear up the screen, open a bunch of applications at once, and then rename our hard drive "mmmmnnnnnbbb0164." I don't know how you do half the things you do on that machine, or how it's even possible. But your father is less than pleased. You are no longer allowed to touch the computer during your various video chats. So lately you've taken to removing your clothing instead.
A couple of highlights from this month: You wore your tutu to the farmer's market and got loads of compliments. You tried peanut butter on a rice cake and devoured it. Instant hit. Whereas I still have to sneak meat into your meals if we are to have any hope of you eating it, there are some things you just love immediately. I know that some people would not feed peanut butter to a 15-month-old, but our doctor said you can eat anything. Add to this the fact that I eat so much peanut butter that you are probably partially made of peanut butter, and you have the reason why I figured it would be ok.
Your hair seems to be getting lighter and lighter, your face continues to look exactly like Dad's, and your personality shines through more every day. You are quite demanding, and insist on certain things. For example, yesterday you woke up at 5:45am---wayyyy earlier than usual. By 8am, while we were playing in your room, I thought maybe it would be ok for me to just lie down on the futon and close my eyes for a minute...but you spotted me right away, went rigid, and then charged across the room yelling "NNNNNNNNN", so enraged that you couldn't even get the whole word NO out of your mouth. When you reached me you grabbed my head and pushed it, shouting "UP!" I got the point, and then luckily Dad entered the room and I went back to sleep in my own bed. So there.
Despite your bossiness, you are still mostly an easy laugher, sometimes breaking into fits of giggles for no apparent reason. On Friday you walked into the kitchen with my black sweater over your head. You were laughing underneath it and then you stumbled into the diaper bag and wiped out, continuing to laugh. And I shouldn't joke about this, but I am in semi-danger of getting into a car accident because you are so entertaining in your car seat. You've been blowing kisses out the window and playing peekaboo with your own reflection.
When you are upset, you will pitifully moan "baaa baaa" and we know that this means we are to sing "Baa Baa Black Sheep" to you, so that all the wrongs in the world can be righted.
Nonnie thinks you are regressing in your animal noises. Woof Woof has become Foof Foof and the other day you told me that kitty cats say "wow." Aunt Lizzie reported that you chased an older child around at story time yelling "FOOF FOOF!" because she was carrying a stuffed dog. The little girl nervously started calling for someone named Mary to save her from you. So in a way, Dad's hope that you will be a bookstore bully may already be coming true. That's not my dream for you, though, Scarlett. I just want you to stay my happy laugher, who finds joy in the smallest of things, and passes it on to everyone else.
I love you,
Mom
