Dear Scarlett,
This morning at breakfast you were asking for your cousin Danielle. "Da-well? Da-well?" you kept repeating. I had to tell you that Da-well was on a plane, after spending a week with us in San Francisco and earning your unwavering devotion. It was a great week, full of food, wine, football, redwoods, farmers' markets, Napa, the aquarium, and several playground trips. We know Da-well had a good time because she has blisters on her feet.
I am also missing your cousin, and the extra pair of eyes and hands she provided. You have been naughty and full of energy this morning. Every time I looked away from you, you were either in the cat food or tormenting Emma. We took a quick trip to UPS today, and instead of walking next to me like I asked you to, you ran into a Pottery Barn and I had to follow you while holding our enormous coffee machine that was getting returned. Getting you in your stroller and car seat has been a serious workout, and you threw your cereal on the floor at breakfast. Now, after an hour of jabbering in your crib, I think you might finally be asleep. Hallelujah.
I assume when you wake up, you will want to talk more about where Da-well has gone. You are lucky to have such a wonderful cousin. She was loving and patient with you all week. She read you stories, watched you at home while I grocery shopped, and diligently made sure that you did not fall down any stairs, eat any stickers, or lose your stuffed animals on our many walks.
Danielle has a dog named Lola, and you must have internalized this information because although Lola did not come on the trip, you still yelled her name every day. "Wo-WA! "Wo-WA!" You also took a nap hiatus this week, and I think it's because your vocabulary is absolutely exploding. You are, however, still working on your pronunciation. While you can say "bubbles", you do not seem to be able to say "bye" and instead tell everyone to "die" when they leave.
I took you to a French lesson in the park this week. It was my lesson, but I wanted you to be there to hear the language I am hoping you will eventually learn. Except that every time I speak French to you at home, you look at me and say, "No."
Since you are so amusing, I've caved in and started a Twitter page where I am recording the things you do and say. It's a little hard to explain your antics in 140 characters, but we're going to give it a try.
Love,
Mom
