Dear Scarlett,
You are on Day 5 of a fever and nasty cold. This means we have spent a lot of time at home, mostly in "mommy bed", where we get under the covers and I sing Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head over and over, which would probably be a better experience if I knew any of the words. Sometimes you request that I sing about balloons, so I sing the only song I know that involves balloons: 99 Red Balloons. This song is basically in German, so I make up the words. You don't seem to know the difference.
Unfortunately, the last couple of days have been even more unpleasant because I am sick, too, and Dad is also not feeling good. You and I did not leave the house today until 3pm when it became imperative to do a grocery store run. I had to talk you into going, then into putting on your shoes, then into getting in the car, then into getting out of the car at the store. None of this has anything to do with you being sick. It has to do with you being almost 2.
The upside to you being sick is that you are very cuddly and too tired to run into the street. I do enjoy our time snuggling. Today we even napped together in "mommy bed." Dad, by the way, takes serious issue with the name of the bed. "Who else sleeps in this bed?" he'll ask you. "Ummmm....Smokey," you reply. I'm not sure where the ummmm thing came from, but you now employ it before answering most questions. And it's true, Smokey does sleep in that bed. This is why our nap was over after 35 minutes, when he came in screaming about something and you woke up. Smokey is normally quiet unless you want him to be quiet, and that is when he screams. He is kind of an asshole in that way.
We've had a bunch of visitors lately. George, Donna, Lael and Avery were in town from Massachusetts. You adored the girls, who are now 11 and 8, and they obsessed over you. It was so much fun seeing them all and introducing you. The girls dressed you, read to you, and called you "Scouteroo." Even now, a week after they left, I'll hear you saying "No, Scouteroo. Avery say that." Then Ellie, Emerson and Ethan stayed with us for a night. It was great to see you reunited with your buddy Emerson. He walked into our house and you took immediate verbal inventory of what he was wearing. "Socks. Pants. Shirt. Sweatshirt. Zipper. Hiiiiii!" We went out for lunch to Little Chihuahua where Emerson impressed us by tucking right into a bean burrito, and then to the Randall Museum to make earthquakes and pat the rabbits. Most of the animals hid in their safe places when they saw you guys coming. I guess they've heard the rumors.
New favorite books include If You Give a Cat a Cupcake, My Rhinoceros, A Sick Day for Amos McGee, and Corduroy. Sometime in the last month or so you decided that you no longer sleep with stuffed animals or take them anywhere with you. This is remarkable, because it is so starkly different from life as it used to be. One day you just ejected everyone from your crib. "Moosie, go away. Doll, go away. Winkie, go away," etc. and they have not been invited to return. You did make a two-night exception for the Hello Kitty doll that Donna bought you.
You remain obsessed with your French Playground CD, but also have a newfound respect for Ray LaMontagne, who you call "Tane," and the band Gorillaz, who you only like because of their name. Today you told me that a little gorilla was in mommy bed and was going to get mommy. When I asked you what the gorilla was going to do, you started tickling me. Even when you're sick, you are a fun, funny girl.
I love you,
Mom
