Dax-A-Roo

Hi Sweet Boy!!

Mommy's a little late with your letter. Things have gotten crazy around here and I can barely keep up!

You're part of the reason they've gotten wild. You talk all the time now. But only to family. I know people are skeptical when I tell them how verbal you are since most of the time when they talk to you, you either hide your face or put on a really funny pout, lower your head and refuse to say anything. If they persevere, though, past the pout and cranky "NO!" they will eventually catch a dimple peeping out from underneath that sweet blonde hair.


With family (and those you know really, really well), you can talk a mile a minute. Especially with your sister. I usually love listening to conversations between the two of you. You talk about everything together. Sometimes, y'all spend the time just tossing out the names of everything within site:
"You got your monkey, Dax?"
"Yep, my monkey. Dee-ya's froggie?"
"Yeah, Dax. That my froggie. You see the big truck, Dax?"
"Yep. See big truck. Look, Dee-ya, a bird!"
And so on.
Sometimes, y'all stage elaborate plays together with your toys:
"Oh, no, Daddy Dinosaur! Save us from the monster!"
"ROAR! Monster get you!!"
"Oh, Monster, watch out for the snake!"
"ROAR!! Monster get snake!!!!"
But occasionally ... okay, much more than occasionally, quite often in fact, you just enjoy driving your sister to distraction. To be fair, she's quite easy to rile up (takes after her Mama), but you seem to get a little too much pleasure out of pestering her. Which means you understand your role as Little Brother perfectly:
"Dax? You want to play monsters?"
"NO!"
"Pleease, buddy, I wanna play monsters."
"No play monsters, Dee-yah!"
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeease!"
"You be quiet, Dee-yah! HUSH!"
"Waaaaaaaah! Mom, Dax tell me to hush!"
And so on. Eventually declining into both of you declaring "I not play with you!" and the resulting tears. Five minutes later, though, everyone is happily sharing and playing together ... until the next fallout.

Lest you think yourself some sort of language prodigy, you have times when there is a definite FAIL of all verbal skills. Most often, this occurs when you don't get your way immediately. Mommy tells you "No" or someone has a toy you want. Then, your response is a high-pitched, LOUD, frustrated squeal. You have brought your friend Eliot to tears more than once because you "hurt his ears." The usual response is a completely still, silent room while everyone in it turns to look at you. Which you hate. So you burst into tears.

Even with the squeals and sibling squabbles, I am loving this time with you both so much. You guys are big enough to play unsupervised together and entertain each other for hours each day. Not all at once, of course, but even those short spurts of free time for Mommy are much appreciated. You guys have so much fun together. What a blessing to get to watch you turn into the best friends I keep telling you that you are. :)



These are the things I hear on an hourly basis:
"One more time" ... some kids say "Again!" but you prefer "One more time"
"You hear that?" ... not as much lately, but a couple months ago, anytime you heard a noise, this is what you said. Implied was a request for information about what made such a noise.
"I neeeeeeeeed you!" ... at first, this melted my heart, but you've overused it now, Buddy. A classic case of The Boy Who Cried Wolf!

We went shopping for a dress for Julia in February. You watched and followed as she ran around from pink dress to pink dress, taking them down and declaring, "Oh, Mommy, look! It boo-ful pink dress!" After she had about five in her hand, you marched up to her, looked her right in the eye and announced, "I like da bwoo!" She said, "You like the blue ones, buddy? Okay. I get you some." Then she handed you two blue dresses that you happily carried around until it was time to go. When told by Mommy that we were, in fact, not going to buy you a dress, you threw a royal fit. I missed a golden opportunity to take you into the dressing room and let you put them on while I took pictures. Not realizing there would be such a great photo opportunity, I had left my camera at home. Don't you think that would have been a great picture for your Senior yearbook?

Just yesterday you and Julia were playing in the yard (Finally! Spring seems to have made it up here to Knoxville ... it's been a long, cold winter!) You guys found some pool toys I had bought last year and stashed away. I blew up the pink inflatable ring for Julia and then did your blue one. Julia helped you get it around your waist ("Okay, Buddy, put this arm up through here; now this one up, too. You did it, Buddy!") You then walked into the middle of the driveway, twirled around and said, "Tanks, Mom! I a ballerina!"



You are such a sweet, funny mix of a boy who is All Boy, but yet has a girly older sister that he desperately admires. Everything Julia has (bows, panties, dresses) you want as well, but in "bwoo" or "geen" ... as if that makes everything more masculine. You insisted on wearing your hair bow to church last Wednesday night. Fortunately, most everyone there has or had children so they understood. You love balls and trucks and monsters and animals. And any man that you see is immediately a bud, but you view women with great suspicion. They, of course, are smitten with you and try so hard to be your friend that eventually you will benevolently bestow a smile upon them. Let a guy walk into your sight, though, and you ditch the girls to go hang out with the guys.

Don't think your world is all ballerinas and princesses. You've got approximately eleventy million cars and trucks that you love to play with every day. And if there is a ball in sight, you are convinced it is yours. Your favorite movies are Madagascar and Cars and you can sing the theme song to Wonder Pets as well as quote several catchphrases from "The Buggies." You have a love/hate relationship with "wo-bots" depending on if you've decided robots are scary that day or not.

I went back to read the letter to your sister when she turned two and was relieved to see that she also had an abrupt halt to any interest in eating vegetables. If I were to count french fries and ketchup as a vegetable, then you get plenty. Okay, you'll also eat roasted sweet potatoes. Yum. But just as I was getting smug about all the healthy things you would scarf down, BOOM! I really should know better.

You prefer apple juice over lemonade; jelly over honey; crackers over bread; peanut butter on a spoon over a peanut butter sandwich; green beans over peas; baked beans over black beans; and carbohydrates over any other food group. You will declare you don't like something and immediately try to get it out of your sight. When told to just leave it on your plate, you go into a pout. But, if it is left on your plate, after you've eaten everything else, you'll go ahead and give it a try. Usually you discover you like it. I've learned to give you little portions of everything and then refuse seconds on anything unless your plate is clear. Sometimes this works and you eat your veggies; sometimes you just decide you are finished after you eat the things you do like. But if dessert is mentioned before you finish, even in the statement, "Eat the green bean so we can have a cookie," your attention is immediately focused on the last half of the announcement. In fact, I'd go so far as to guess that you only hear the word "cookie" (or "fruit" or "yogurt" or whatever the dessert item is that day). You toss all food back on your plate and hop up to head to the kitchen and plead for your cookie. And throw a fit when told to go back to your seat and eat the green bean.


Are you seeing a little trend here? You are definitely two :)

You had a birthday party. I thought for sure you would want a blue or green cake so I insisted on searching for white cake mix instead of yellow. I wanted it to be easy to tint. Then, when asked, you thought for half a second and declared you wanted "Yellow!" I get the feeling I'll be able to tell that story a lot as a typical example of what it's like to be your mom :)


Here's a photo of you at your party. You really hated that everyone sang "Happy Birthday" and looked at you. Being the center of attention is becoming your Least Favorite Thing. Once everyone quit looking at you, you enjoyed the cake more.



Oh! You were so funny. Someone would call you "Birthday Boy" and you would ... pout :) and say, "NO! I no like Birf-day Boy!"

You liked being the Birthday Boy well enough when it was time to open gifts.


It's taken me all day to type this. You are obviously not someone to be summed up in a short paragraph. I think you should also know this ... Tonight (3/24) was the first time you prayed out loud during bedtime prayers. You thanked God for "the Giant Pickle and dinosaurs." Amen.

I love you,

Mommy