Letter to JJ

A letter to my 5 year old daughter, JJ

Danya Banya June 10, 2015 5

A letter to my daughter JJ. I hope one day, when JJ is old enough to want to remember, she will enjoy looking back on what she was like as an awesome 5 year old girl.

Dearest JJ,

Five is a big milestone for you. You’ve been waiting for this, I can see it in your eyes. Given that you are young for your school year, I think you feel like you’ve finally caught up.

You are growing into such an awesome person, and I am so proud to be your mum. (Gushy mum alert: I’ve got real tears streaming down my face as I’m typing this, because I love you so very much.)

Here’s a few fun facts about what’s going on in your life right now.

You like the name Llana (pronounced Leh-larna), or Lana for short, and have asked if we can change your name to that. I’ve suggested that perhaps we could try it out for a while first. And sometimes we do.

You’ve been on three pony rides in the last few months. You share my love of animals. You want to be a farmer when you grow up, and see these pony rides as the start of learning to ride. So whilst it’s lots of fun, you also take it very seriously.

You’re also a self proclaimed “science girl”. You want to ask all the ‘how, why and what if’ questions. You want to build and de-construct. You’ve got a fantastic memory for all the little facts and details.

Your favourite colour is deep blue…. and pink, and purple.

We just had a ‘rainbow magic’ fairy party for your birthday with all your friends. Melody the Fifth Birthday Party Fairy came. You asked to have breakfast in bed and eat off the special plate for dinner. You said that the best part of your birthday was that everyone wanted to sit next to you, and that you got to go first in all the games. For you, it was more about experiences, and less about presents. We’ve been trying to instil this as one of our family values, and so I especially love to see that you’re believing in this too.

You’re long-sighted in your right eye, and started wearing glasses towards the end of last year.
You started kindergarten in February. You love school, you love learning, and you especially love your teacher. You’re so well-behaved in class, that sometimes I wonder where all your naughtiness has gone. (And occasionally, when it’s been too hard being good all day long, your naughtiness appears again when we get home.)

You’re learning to read. It’s absolutely fascinating to watch it all coming together. But I’m trying not to push you too much. You still love being read to: you could listen to stories for hours on end, and I don’t want to squash this enthusiasm by pushing you too far, too soon.

After books, we snuggle in bed together, whispering sweet nothings until you fall asleep. This is when you ask all the big questions, like why isn’t ‘hie’ or ‘bie’ a word, or how come we have cars. You’re still a night owl: sleeping has never come easily.
You’ve got a boyfriend ‘C’, and you profess your dying love to each other on a daily basis. You’re getting married in Brisbane (or maybe Ireland) when you grow up, and even though I’ll apparently be a very, very old woman by then, I’m still invited to the wedding.

You’ve got ballet one day a week, and Mandarin on another. The rest of the time, we are intentionally trying to do ‘not much’. Lots of walking to and from school. Lots of digging outside in the garden just for the fun of it. Lots of jumping on the trampoline. Lots of dressing up. Lots of building with Lego. Lots of drawing and colouring in. Lots of collecting autumn leaves.

Not everyone gets to see the ‘you’ that I see, but to me, you’re like a ray of sunshine. Sure you squabble with your sister, show off when you have a friend over, and make a huge mess of the loungeroom on a daily basis. But when I look into your big brown eyes, I wish I could snap-freeze you just as you are.

Love you to pieces,
Mummy. xx

(PS: You can find all my letters to my daughters JJ and Bee on my parenting page.)

Categories Kindergarteners, Parenting Tags Letter to JJ

A Letter to JJ (3 years, 11 months)

Danya Banya April 26, 2014 0

A letter to my daughter JJ, that I wrote when she was 3 years & 11 months old. I hope that one day, when she is old enough to want to remember days long forgotten, she will enjoy looking back on these letters of what she was like as an awesome little preschool aged girl.

Dear JJ,

I know I’ve said it before, but I think three years and eleven months old is my new favourite age.

The ‘trying three’s’ are long past, and you are now such a big girl. You often proclaim “Look how tall I am. Look how long my arms are. Look how long my legs are!”

You can do so much now. You can put on your shoes and socks. You can help match up the socks in the laundry basket. You can ride your rocking horse with one foot standing on the saddle and the other pointing into the air. You can take your own (porcelain) plate and (metal) utensils to the kitchen sink after dinner. You can share with your sister, even when she isn’t very good at sharing in return. You have the stamina to walk (almost) the length of the zoo. And you have the self discipline to (usually) stop running ahead when I call out to you.

You’ve become a bit of a “goody two-shoes”. You know all the rules, and you (generally) stick by them. You say your pleases, your thank yous and your excuse mes.

I’ve read about this golden age between toddlerhood and adolescence where kids are just generally awesome. And it feels like you’re there. It feels like you are the most awesomest little girl in the whole wide world (well, to me anyway).

You’ve settled into the new preschool year, and have made some really good friends. Friends that you’ll go on to school with next year. Friends that you might, hopefully, keep for life. You’ve starting to be invited to birthday parties and playdates. You’re learning about sharing, compromising, being a polite guest and being a polite host. It’s so lovely to watch these connections blossom.

You chatter non-stop. About this and that. About your friends, and the games you play. About stories that we’ve read or TV shows that you’ve watched (Rainbow Magic and Octonauts are still your favourites). You sing songs and know all the actions. And you ask questions. You inquire.

“Mummy, I want to talk some more about the dog catcher in their vans and the pound. Can you tell me more about it please? Are there rabbits and pigs at the pound? What do they do with dogs that are naughty? Do they go to gaol? Can we take (our cat) Charlie to the pound and swap her for a dog?”

You’re starting to play word games. You’re fascinated with rhyming words at the moment, and are constantly trying to think up new rhyming combinations. “Mum! Cone and phone – they rhyme!” or “Mum! “Sally and sand both start with ‘s’ – they have the same special letter!”

You’re also really into counting. You can count to 19 without help, and well beyond that if we give you some gentle prompts at the decade transitions. You are still learning to recognise written numbers however, so we have been playing lots of number recognition games. You love it, as long as you don’t ever lose.

Because, you see, you’re (more than) a tad competitive. (I wonder where you get that from, lol…) I can easily convince you to run upstairs to clean your teeth, or tidy up all the Duplo blocks, or scrabble to get into your car seat first, just by telling you it’s a race. If ask “Who wants morning tea” you’ll call out “Me!” in a mini-second, and then explain that you should receive the first piece of mandarin because you replied first. Bee is too young to mind coming second, but I still let her win sometimes because losing gracefully is an important lesson.

We’ve been doing lots and lots and lots of arts and crafts these last few months. You prefer activities where you have a lot of creative freedom, because you don’t like the feeling of not being able to copy something correctly. You set a very high standard for yourself, and if you can’t get something exactly right, then you’d rather not attempt it at all.

It’s concerning that you don’t have the self-confidence to be able to try and fail. We’ve been working on this in a number of ways. Firstly, we’re doing lots of play that also secretly works on your fine motor skills, so that you’ll have the dexterity and hand eye coordination to be able to do things that you believe that you should be able to.

We’re also doing lots of child-led arts and crafts where there is no “right” or “wrong”. I often craft along side you, where I can demonstrate a technique and you have the choice to copy or not. Often you won’t copy at the time, but will try the technique out later where there is no perceived pressure for you to get it “right”.

Another activity that seems to have no bounds is sensory play, with various types of doughs, sand and water. There is no right or wrong with this sort of play and another bonus is that it’s fun across various age groups, so you and Bee can play separately or together.

And lastly, I’m trying to introduce the concept that experimenting, documenting and analysing failures is an important part of the scientific process and not something to be avoided. (The inner geek in me is secretly loving these discussions as well).

We’re in party planning mode for your birthday party, but I’ll leave all the details of that for your next letter.

And so I’ll finish off by saying I love you my sweet JJ, and you’ll always be my winner.

xx Mummy

Previous letters to JJ:
A Letter to JJ (3 years, 5 months)
A Letter to JJ (3 years, 3 months)
A Letter to JJ (3 years)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 9 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 7 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 6 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 5 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 4 months)

Categories Parenting, Preschoolers Tags Letter to JJ, Process over Product

A Letter to JJ (3 years, 5 months)

Danya Banya November 6, 2013 0

This is a letter written to my daughter JJ, when she was 3 years and 5 months old. I hope she can look back on these letters when she is older, and see what an awesome little girl she was.

Dear JJ,

You’ve grown up so much these last two months.

A (much coveted) spot became available at our local preschool this term. It’s a preschool with beautiful natural grounds where you can dig in real dirt, plant vegies and find snails. It’s a preschool with a child-led, play-based curriculum that mirrors many of my parenting philosophies. It’s a preschool where you will get to know other children from our neighbourhood, children that you will go on to school with in a year or so’s time, perhaps even meet a best friend. It’s a preschool within walking distance to our new home, encouraging healthy exercise habits (for me), providing opportunities to meet our neighbours, and giving us an excuse to explore the local neighbourhood flora. To put it mildly, we’re stoked.

It’s not that we had any problems with your Early Learning Pre-preschool. In fact the extra staff ratios there were perfect for your transition to being ‘away from Mum’ for the first time.

But whilst you liked it there, you are loving your new preschool.

There have been some big changes. You are now the youngest in your class. You are expected to do more things for yourself – put on your own sunscreen, look after your own things, and the big one, go to the toilet all by yourself.

Whilst you’d been in undies for ages, you’d been consistently (and adamantly) refusing to poo in the toilet. You’d wait until there was a private moment, and then ask for a nappy. Over a period of about a year, we tried everything – demonstrating, gently encouraging, practising, reading, explaining, trying, bribing, complaining, winging, pleading – all to no avail.

So we decided that the time had come for “Do A Poo In The Toilet Day.” I explained that today was the day, and we were going to have a party tonight to celebrate, because by the end of today you’ll have done a poo in the toilet. I asked what could I do to help – what was it that needed to happen so that you would be happy with doing a poo?

And that is how the situation arose where I happily fed you a massive slice of cake (with icing!), while you sat on the throne.

And after that, it was time for action. It took a lot of cajouling. You were scared. You did try to back out of the idea (after the cake was eaten). But I reminded you that we had a plan. And we spent the rest of the day in a rotation of sitting on, trying, freaking out, getting off the loo over and over and over again.

Finally, when Daddy came home from work, you were so excited to tell him about the party that was coming up, and you wanted to demonstrate our plan, that you hopped on, and (after tense moment) there was a plop! And with the deed finally done, you burst into hysterics at the relief.

And we did have a party. There were streamers, balloons, music and dancing. You ate dinner off the special plate. You grinned all the way to sleep. And the next day, you proudly proclaimed to anyone and everyone that you were a “Poo in the Toilet Girl!”. And you’ve been happily going in the toilet ever since.

(Photo by Megan Webb Photography

This last month you’ve also weaned off the dummy. It was something we’ve been working on, gradually reducing your access to only bedtimes or when you were extremely upset. But in the end you decided for yourself to let it go. Roughly coinciding with starting your new preschool, you announced that you didn’t need the dummy anymore. Without it’s calming effect, bedtime settling stretched out to be an hour longer than usual, so we had a few rough weeks. But it’s improving, and you haven’t asked for your dummy since that day.

And so now that you’re officially toilet trained, officially no longer napping, officially no longer using a dummy, and officially going to a ‘big girl’s’ preschool, I think the time has come to mark the end of toddlerdom. No longer on the precipice, you’re officially now a Preschooler.

I love you JJ. I love you more than all the parties in the world (including spontaneous poo parties).

xx
Mummy

Previous letters to JJ:
A Letter to JJ (3 years, 3 months)
A Letter to JJ (3 years)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 9 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 7 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 6 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 5 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 4 months)

Categories Parenting, Preschoolers, Toddlers Tags Letter to JJ

A Letter to JJ (3 years & 3 months old)

Danya Banya September 20, 2013 0

Dearest JJ, it feels like forever since I’ve written to you. It’s not because there hasn’t been anything to write about. Quite the opposite, it’s because there’s been too much to write about. When I start thinking about your letter, a million thoughts stream into my head and get all jumbled. So I’m not going to think, I’m just going to write and see what comes out. Here goes….

My sweet JJ,

I haven’t told you about your third birthday party yet. For weeks you’d been asking for a fairy theme, although on the day you chose to dress up as Cinderella. We had fairy invitations, fairy decorations, a star cake and fruit ‘wands’. You loved every-single-minute of it.

Blowing out the candles on your star cake.

You have the most unruly hair I’ve ever seen. It’s amazing. I do spray and brush it every morning, and but seemingly seconds later it gets that bed-head look again. I love it. It’s so uncontrollable. It’s so you.

You have very definite ideas about fashion. You like leggings. Not jeans, not pants (trousers), not tracksuits, not stockings, not skirts. Leggings, preferably with stripes and no lace at the bottom. Oh, and in purple please.

You also like long sleeve tops. Not jumpers, not jackets, not cardigans, not hoodies. I’ve managed to get you through winter by layering a long sleeve top on another long sleeve top on a singlet.

Showing off Performing for your sister

But really, ideally, you would like to wear flimsy summer dresses all year long, because apparently that’s what girls wear. When I try to explain that it is Winter and that it is cold, you reply “but I like the cold” or “but I like the way-too-cold” or even “but I like the absolutely-freezing”.

I tested this theory once. It was a typically chilly July day and you insisted that a particular summer dress would be perfect, and all the cajoling in the world wasn’t going to convince you otherwise. So I thought, I’ll just pack all the extra layers (and shoes) and see what happens. You stubbornly sat through the walk to playgroup, and only begrudgingly let me put on a few extra layers once you’d been playing in the freezing hall for a while. I looked around at all the other kids with their gumboots, parkers and beanies and sighed.

As I keep telling myself, I am trying to raise a happy and confident child. I am not particularly trying to raise a compliant child.

Playing with the 3D glasses.

You’ve been having a hard time with sleep lately. Lots of nightmares and night terrors. When I hear you scream out, I rush in and hold you tight, and you cry (and cry and cry) on my shoulder until my top is soaked. You’re still half asleep, still half dreaming, still half terrified. It sucks.

You now clean your teeth every night (and every morning). High five! And we’ve managed to wean you off your going-to-bed bottle of milk. Dummy is next (hopefully). You still need me to lie down with you until you fall asleep, and you still come into our bed in the wee hours of the morning every night, but you do start the night off in your own bed in your own room, so that is a big win from where we were a few months ago.

Hoot and Hootabelle pictures for the giggle gallery

In your favourite lamb pyjamas, creating art for the Giggle Gallery

Some days I’m not sure if you are a toddler or a preschooler, you seem to be a jumble of contradictions lately. You’ve always been an amazing climber, but you can’t seem to get the hang of balancing on your scooter. You are churning through jigsaw puzzles that are for 5+ year olds, but you still need your dummy and cuddles to help you sleep at night. Your vocabulary is fantastic but your pronunciation is toddler-esque.

Playing and creating

I’ve found that we’ve been able to get some one-on-one time during Bee’s naps lately. We’ve had a surge of craft during these times (like this, this, this, this and this and dozens of loads of others that haven’t been blogged but were fun just the same.)

Laughing and loving

I love chatting with you and listening to you talk to yourself as you play. Sometimes you say things that are cute, sometimes things that are quirky, sometimes things that are hilarious (this and this are a few examples). Here’s another conversation that you had with Daddy just this weekend:

Daddy: “JJ, what do you want to get Mummy for her birthday?”
JJ: “A statue of a chocolate crackle and Mummy is eating the chocolate crackle and it is china.”
Daddy: “That might be a bit hard to find in the shops”
JJ: “Well, we’ll need a torch…”

I love you JJ as much as I would love a porcelain statue of myself eating a chocolate crackle (in miniature). Cause that would be all sorts of awesome.

Love xx
Mummy

Previous letters to JJ:
A Letter to JJ (3 years)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 9 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 7 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 6 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 5 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 4 months)

PS: All the face-painting (the fairy and both sets of Minnie Mouse) were done by Mrs Cakeface, who doesn’t know me, except perhaps as one of the ladies that line up to get their kids face-painted at our local farmers market each weekend. This is not a sponsored post, but she is very good, isn’t she?!

Categories Imaginative Play, Parenting, Preschoolers, Toddlers Tags Letter to JJ

A Letter to JJ (3 years)

Danya Banya June 4, 2013 0

Happy Birthday JJ! A Letter to my Three Year Old Baby Girl.

Photo by Megan Webb Photography

Dear JJ,

Happy Birthday!

You’re now three years old. My big little girl.

Cliché dictates that your birth should feel like yesterday. That time should have flown. But actually, it feels like the full three years. It feels like you’ve come so far, grown so much. It feels like I’ve changed. Pre-child life feels like an eternity ago.

You’ve matured so much over these last couple of months. Except for the time when you tried to get yourself killed, your behaviour has improved. You still get up to mischief, but you’ll listen to reason and have tempered your toddler tantrums. The naughty corner has been feeling lonely.

Photo by Lauren Michelle Photographer

You chat non-stop, about anything and everything. There are still a few sounds that you haven’t figured out how to make. The sounds f, sp, sm, v, and th often come out sounding like a p. You say pish, parkle, eppalent instead of elephant, and “eww, that part is pelly!”

You are making up your own grammar. You say things like “I putted it over there”. And you often get her / she and they / their mixed up, such as “That is she’s book” or “That is they’s house”.

Cognitively, you’ve entered a questioning phase. It started with ‘What?’ questions, such as “What’s a chair?” or “What’s a drink?” – things which you obviously already knew the answer. Sometimes we’d give you a silly answer, and you’d laugh and correct us.

Before long your questions progressed to ‘How?’ and ‘Why?’ style questions, such as “Why do we do drinking?” or “Why is it raining?”

Lately you’ve been asking lots of ‘Where does it come from?’ questions. Every night at dinner, you ask about what’s on your plate. “Where do we get noodles?” or “Where do we get chicken?” We answer you honestly, whilst trying to keep our language gentle and non-confrontational.

But your favourite question is ‘Can you make up a story?’. Sometimes you request a nonsense story such as ‘Can you make up a story about Mike the Knight and a purple hat?’. But more often you ask about an event that has recently happened, or is about to happen. “Can you make up a story about a Mummy and a Daddy and a girl called JJ and a baby sister called Bee who move to a new house and there is a trampoline and they go jumping and then they have cake? Can you make up that story?”

You get upset when stories end. “No! It’s not pinished! Can you tell me a story that never ends? Can you make up it?”

Photos by Megan Webb Photography

You ask for stories from the moment you wake up, until you go to sleep at night. You don’t mind if we make them up, if we read them to you from a book, or if you listen to them on an audio CD. You’ve gone past picture books. Your favourite books at the moment are ones that I borrow from the junior racks at the library. Darcey Bussell‘s Magic Ballerina series, and Daisy Meadow’s Rainbow Magic series are great – the storylines are easy to follow, and there’s a great mix of fairies, magical animals and relatively non-threatening villains.

Sometimes you wake in the middle of the night, and wander blurry-eyed into our bed with a book tucked under your arm, because you like to sleep with it under the pillow.

Speaking of sleeping arrangements, did I mention that you now have your own room? When we moved into our new house, we were intending for you to share a room with your sister. But the removalists accidentally put your bed in the wrong room by mistake, and you claimed that room for your own. You were so proud of your new bedroom, that we decided to run with the idea. You’ve gone to sleep in your own bed, in your own room almost every night since! Considering your sleep history, this is worthy of celebrating. You still need me to put you to sleep, and you still come into our bed in the wee hours of the morning, but I’m considering this a big step in the right direction.

Photo by Megan Webb Photography

And another big leap for you – you’re now attending an Early Learning preschool one day a week. You started four weeks ago. No tears! I’m so glad that we waited until you were this age before starting childcare. It’s different for each child and each family, but I really think that we found the right place and got the timing just right for you.

You used to have formal swimming lessons and ballet lessons, but we’ve stopped these this term. Instead Mr Banya has been taking you on lots of trips to the park, museum, pool and zoo.

I took you to see Swing by Baby Prom at the Opera House with your granny last month, and met some of the musicians afterwards. You want to learn the trombone now. I was thinking something smaller and lighter…

Besides a trombone player, you also want to be a drummer, a zoo keeper, an artist and a mummy fairy. You look up at the first star of the evening, and fervently wish for a beautiful gown, glass slippers and wings. You also wish that you could fly.

The other day I told you that I love you as much as the trees have leaves, and you asked if I’ll still love you in Winter when all the leaves have gone. So I told you that I love you as many as all the stars, and you asked if I’ll still love you on a dark night when there is no moon.

JJ – I’ll still love you. I promise. Always.

xxx

Mummy

Previous letters to JJ:
2 years, 9 months
2 years, 7 months
2 years, 6 months
2 years, 5 months
2 years, 4 months

Categories Parenting, Toddlers Tags Letter to JJ

A Letter to JJ (2 years and 9 months)

Danya Banya March 18, 2013 0

JJ 2 years 9 months written in cookie letters

Dear JJ,

Or should I say Angelina? Or Lola? Or perhaps Harmony?

You see, you’ve had a bit of a “girl” explosion these last couple of months. We’ve gradually expanded your TV watching repertoire beyond Playschool and Guess How Much I Love You to include these shows (Charlie & Lola, The Fairies and Angelina Ballerina for those of you that don’t know the words to “Dance Dance Dance The Sleep Away” backwards), and you are just a tad obsessed.

Backyard play

Whilst your TV hours are still the same, the amount of hours that you spend role-playing these shows is a bit out of control. And the attention to detail is astounding. For instance, you notice how Charlie leans against the wall with one leg bent in the episode where Lola falls off her bike. You’re not happy unless Daddy (who usually plays Charlie) leans just right.

And to add to the mayhem, you’ve started ballet classes. I know, I know. I can hear everyone saying “Really? Ballet classes for a two year old?” But honestly, you just love it so much. You think you are Angelina and your teacher is Miss Lily. You practice your pirouettes, your plies, your arabesques and your curtseys all day long.

So to balance this “girlishness” somewhat, we’ve just introduced a sixth TV show “Mike The Knight”. It’s too early to tell if we’re going to be starting fencing class next term…

Off the topic of TV, and on to terrible twosomeness, judging by the lack of time that you’ve spent in the naughty corner this last month, I think we’ve gotten past the worst of it. There was a rough patch where you were handling a) coping with new sibling jealousy, b) teething, c) dropping a nap and d) terrible twos all at the same time. And I’ll confess, I was pleased to see the end of each day. So it is lovely to have my laughing little terrier back, yapping at my heels.

Perils of trying to take a 2 year old's passport photo

The perils of taking a 2 year old’s passport photo

Easter Egg painting using cotton tips

Mr Banya is taking a bit of paternity leave at the moment, so you are enjoying some extra attention. You’ve been on a bus, on a train, to the zoo, to the museum, to the art gallery and more. But you are also enjoying playing with your toys at home. Ironically I think this is because I’ve started a toy rotation system and so there are less toys out at any one time. You seem to enjoy your toys more when there are less to choose from. I am also enjoying having less toys to pick up, especially as your sister is starting to move around some and puts everything she can get her hands on into her mouths.

As your sister is growing more interactive, you’ve started performing for her. You’ll do anything to get her to laugh. You ask us to bring her up to the bedroom so she can watch you jump on the bed. You dance and sing for her. You play peek-a-boo. You sit on the ground (regardless of where we are) and ask to hold her. You coo when I hug the two of you and say “I love my girls”. You swoon when I tell you “Bee loves her big sister”. You love sharing a bath. You bring over her toys, and are very careful that she doesn’t play with any of yours. Sometimes you snatch them away. I’m trying to teach you that you need to take them gently, and give her something else to play with instead. Luckily she’s too small to mind at the moment.

Photos by Megan Webb Photography

You’ve been saying lots of funny things lately. The other day I overheard Mr Banya saying “JJ, please don’t stick your finger up the cat’s bottom. Only vets are allowed to do that.” To which, you promptly replied “I’m a vet!” Mr Banya tried to explain. “You’re just pretending to be a vet. Only real vets are allowed to really do it.” And then you started stalking the cat around the house saying “Charli, come here Charli. I’m just pretending.”

JJ, we love you as bright as a Summer’s day.

xx
Mummy & Daddy

Previous letters to JJ:
2 years, 7 months
2 years, 6 months
2 years, 5 months
2 years, 4 months

Categories Parenting, Toddlers Tags Letter to JJ

A Letter to JJ (2 years, 7 months)

Danya Banya January 15, 2013 0

Dear JJ,

What a big month of change for you.

First biggie – you’ve got four (four!) new teeth. Yes, your molars are through at last. Perhaps that is one contributing factor to your recent naughtiness. We’ve noticed that if we put Bonjela on, your naughtiness dissolves, even if you’ve said that your teeth aren’t hurting.

Second biggie – you’re toilet-trained. Well, partially. You now wear undies, although you do ask to put on a nappy if you want to do a poo. You’ve done a poo in the toilet before, but it’s a bit scary. That’s OK, I don’t mind if the whole pooing in the nappy thing lasts a while, if it means less stress for you while we get number ones down pat. So we’re now going through the joys of noting where the nearest toilet is wherever we go, making a mad dash when the urge comes, hoping there is no queue, marvelling at the differences between button and chain flushes, etc.

You’ve been dry overnight for a while, but we’re still insisting on “pyjama nappies” because we’re not entirely confident which bed you’ll end up in, and I don’t fancy a midnight golden shower. But, third biggie – you are now, mostly, sleeping in your own bed until morning! This is a big deal for you. We’ve been (somewhat reluctantly) co-sleeping with you since birth because that’s what you needed – a discussion I’ll go into in another post. But we’ve been encouraging you to sleep in your own bed whenever possible, knowing that you would when the time is right. And it seems that time is now! Well, hopefully.

And fourth biggie – you’ve officially dropped your day nap altogether. We tried to keep it going as long as possible, but it really got to the point where day sleeps were a battle, and a day sleep was making you go to bed significantly later at night, resulting in less sleep for you overall, which was resulting in behaviour issues. So we figured out that if you drop the day nap, you go to bed earlier and easier, and get more overall sleep. You then wake up happier, are better behaved, and better able to tackle all the learning that a 2.5 year old faces. It’s a bit of a struggle in the late afternoon when that 3.30pm drowsiness sets in, but you are mature enough now to seek out “Mummy Time” rather than falling apart in toddler tantrums. Mostly.

We had a couple of late nights recently with New Years celebrations etc, where we tried letting you have a day nap and then letting you stay up til 9.30pm or so, and then have another day nap the next day, thinking that you might be able to cope with this. But alas, you cannot. It turned into a roller-coaster ride of attention seeking naughtiness. It’s not fair on you, if we get mad at you for misbehaving when we are the cause of you being so tired that you can’t help yourself but to do so. So lesson learnt, no more late nights for you Missy.

Photo credit to Megan Webb Photography

We’ve had some progress in the running off department. We’ve had lots of talks about “sticking together”, a concept you remember from a book called Melvin & Croc. We’ve talked about how if we are out, and you want to do some running, you can ask and I’ll tell you where it is safe to run. We’ve talked about how if you start to run away, one of three things will happen. Either you’ll be strapped into the pram (which you HATE), or you’ll be carried (which you HATE) or we’ll get in the car and go home. These are consequences because it’s not safe for you to run away. We’ve acted on each of these things whenever you’ve run, and you’re starting to understand that these are not just idle threats. We have a prep talk before we leave home. You’re now telling me how good you are at sticking together. You’re happier to hold hands or hold onto the pram. We still do have running moments, but they are less often.

I’ve had a lot of people suggest a leash for you. I’m not against leashes per say, and I certainly don’t judge other people for using them. But my instinct tells me that they wouldn’t work for you. Not now, at this age. You would just rebel further, my dear spirited one.

When you are well rested, you are so sweet. You woke me up the other morning, at around 6.45am, by whispering in my ear “I love you Mum”. So of course I grunted “I love you too”. You whispered it again “I love you Mum” and again I grunted my response. Then you whispered, a little softer this time “I love you, the world“. I opened my eyes, gave you a cuddle, and said “I love you as big as the world too, my precious girl” and we got up to start our day.

xxx
Danya

Previous letters to JJ:
2 years, 6 months
2 years, 5 months
2 years, 4 months

Categories Parenting, Toddlers Tags Letter to JJ

A Letter to JJ (2 years, 6 months)

Danya Banya December 15, 2012 0

Dear Miss JJ,

Happy half birthday!

You had just gotten used to telling people that you were two years and five months, and now I’m trying to tell you that you are two and a “half” and you don’t really get this half business. I made you a shirt with “2 1/2” on it, and show you the half, and you correct me saying “No, It’s a one Mummy, and here’s a two, and there’s another two”.

Your language skills are improving. I hardly need to translate now as strangers can now understand you more and more. You’re not really asking “Why?” yet, but you have started asking questions that you know the answer to. Such as “what that one called?”, whilst pointing to a funnel or whatever. At first I was answering, but now I ask you if you know, and most of the time you can answer yourself.

Of course, being two, you are constantly saying “No I do it, I do it. I can do it all by myself. Look, I did it. I did it. I did it all by myself, alone.”

One of my favourite things that you’ve said this month was your dad asked, “what’s for morning tea?” You said “Honey-doo meyon skews Daddy. What was you hoping for?” I think the answer was standing right in front of him.

We started and stopped toilet training this month. You were very keen on wearing your undies, but not so keen on sitting on the toilet or potty. You will go, but it takes a lot of cajoling to get you on there, and you never initiate it. Naturally accidents happen, and you’ve been getting a bit upset about them lately, so we’ve got you back in nappies and we’ll try again soon.

You’ve also started to drop your day nap, and have missed it most days this week. Previously if you missed a sleep it would be disastrous, but now you seem to be able to cope quite well, keeping chirpy through the afternoon. We still try to sleep every day, but if it doesn’t happen, them I explain instead that it is “quiet time”, and we play upstairs with your dress ups or read books etc for a few hours. It does mean that Mummy loses her mid-afternoon down time though 🙁

someecards.com - FYI, I won't be taking day naps anymore. This means that you'll have to get all your shit done while I'm awake. Good luck with that!

We’ve introduced a new TV show “Charlie & Lola”. You also seem to need to role-play at the moment, and would be involved in some sort of role-playing play constantly. You often want to role-play the story of a book or a TV show over and over again. So with Charlie and Lola being a big influence this month, this has flowed over into your roleplaying games. “Daddy, I Lola. You Charlie”, is heard at least a dozen times a day.

You’ve been showing a desire to learn letters ever since you saw the episode “Too Many Big Words”. You can already recognise J & A, and the numbers 1, 2 & 3. You start pointing them out on number plates, in books, etc. A few months ago you would clam up if I tried to brought up learning letters, I think you were embarrassed that you didn’t know them. But now that you’ve seen that Lola struggled with this too, you seem happy to learn, indeed requesting to learn.

You continue to rely heavily on your dummy and rubbing my belly button as comforters. This had increased significantly around the time Bee was born, but I was expecting it to have ebbed by now. Your obsession with my belly button has morphed from wanting to touch it with your hands to wanting to touch it with your feet. I’m doing my best to quash this, but you are as stubborn as only a 2.5 year old can be. It feels like such an invasion of my personal space, but I keep telling myself “this too will pass”.

Behaviourally, you’ve been running away a lot this month. Whether at the park or the shopping centre, you get this idea in your head, and you turn and bolt for hundreds of metres in the other direction. If you turn around and see me following, you get upset, so clearly you are trying to lose me. And then when you do get out of my sight, you hide. It’s embarrassing, frustrating and very dangerous. I see other mothers thinking “Why can’t you control your child?”, (or maybe that’s just my mothers guilt imagining them judging me). Either way, I’ve had to stop going anywhere uncontained. We now only go to parks and play centres with fences. And we drive instead of walk there. Or we just stay home. It’s the only way I can cope and keep you safe until this phase passes.

I love you as far as you can run, and back again.

xx
Mummy

Previous letters:
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 5 months)
A Letter to JJ (2 years, 4 months)

Categories Parenting, Toddlers Tags Kids in the Kitchen, Letter to JJ