two years, three weeks

Dear Zac,

The following conversation took place on Saturday morning while we were out for a walk.

Me: Zachary, you need to hold Mommy or Daddy's hand while crossing the street.
You: (while attempting to pull your hand out of my grasp) It's MY hand. MY hand!
Daddy: Hold mommy's hand in the street.
You: It's MYYYYYYYY hand!!!
Me: (grabbing the edge of your sleeve) It IS your hand, but you're still going to hold mine when we cross the street.

You see, Zac. Since you're only 2, not everything that belongs to you is yours to control.

Some other examples:

When you throw your toys, yes, they are still technically "your" toys, but Mommy and Daddy will still take them away. "But it's MY toy!" doesn't really mean much at that point.

When you throw your water, yes, technically it is still "your" water, but Mommy and Daddy will still ask you to pick it up and put it gently on the table. "But it's MY water!" won't get you anywhere.

When you take out off your socks from your drawers and lie down on top of them gathering them all under you like a football player trying to maintain control of the ball after being tackled, Mommy and Daddy will still tell you to put them away. (After taking a dozen pictures and videos, of course!) "They're MY socks!" is true, but it's also your mess to clean up.

I have to say, I am quite enjoying this explosion of language recently. It seems that whenever a new tooth comes in (and you've cut 2 molars in the past 2 weeks!) that your sentences become longer and more complex. On average, your sentences range from 4-8 words and your grammar and syntax is excellent. "I need to get out of my crib", "I want to do it myself", "I want to see in the mirror", "I need to eat breakfast" and "I need to play with my toys" are frequent.

I love that we can now have conversations and your answers aren't (usually), just "yes" or "no". I love that you ask for things and people by name. You continue to bring joy and meaning to my life and I love writing these letters to you each week.

Until next time,

Mommy