212 Baby

I had planned on recording all of your milestones and achievements, really I had. You should know how old you were when you rolled over, stood up on your own, walked, talked. But somehow it all got away from me. I can tell you that you took your first unassisted steps on your 13 month birthday and that your babushka still thinks you were a late walker (Russians- they’re demanding). But the rest, I just don’t remember. We’ll have to go by the pictures taken. I may not have written anything down but I sure photographed everything.

You’re almost 18 months old now and I’ve been meaning to tell you: you are freaking awesome. You’re a little chatterbox, greeting people with an exaggerated “hiiiiiii” when you enter the elevator and a “buh byeeeee” when you exit. You make friends with everyone, stare people down until they give you a smile. You call your uncle Ronnie “vava” and he loves it. You’re starting to call your aunt Shearly “Shishi” instead of “doda” (“aunt” in Hebrew). Your uncle Ron is “lal.” The letter “R” is not your strong suit. Your favorite Sesame Street character is Ernie–this is something of a mystery to your parents as he seems pretty boring compared to the other colorful characters. But you like what you like, even now. You prefer books to TV. We don’t think that will last but always hope it will.

We take you to the beach, we take you to restaurants with us and sometimes we drop you off with your grandparents and don’t come back for days and days. You love all of it. You are ridiculously happy-go-lucky.

You’re tri-lingual right now. You understand and respond in Russian, Hebrew and English. Hopefully it takes. We think it might not. It’s already funny that you say “na” (loosely “take this” in Russian) and “toda” (“thank you” in Hebrew) to kids on the playground. You might get tired of them not understanding you. (Also, you point at kids far older than you and call them “baby” so they’re already not your fans). We hope you’ll stick with it. We’re counting on your babushka and safta to push the issue with you.

You’re still huge into music. I can’t get you to hold a crayon for more than a few seconds but put on some music and you start grooving. You dance, you sing, you put your fingers in your ears when you want a different song.

You were always a good sleeper (spit, spit, touch wood). We didn’t do anything to make it so, it was just the luck of the draw. I remember when you slept through the night at 2 months old. I awoke in a panic but you were sound asleep. These days you go to sleep around 9 and wake up around 9. It’s amazing. But even more amazing: you usually sleep later on weekends. It’s like you know. Do you know?

You love me, I know that you do because when you skin a knee or bump your head you call for me first, and you love your grandparents and your aunt and uncles too. A lot. You go crazy for all of them and ask for them in their absence. You wait by the door for your saba and safta and babushka. But there is no one to you like your aba (“father” in Hebrew). You run right into his arms when he comes home. Every-time the phone rings you look at me and say “aba?” (it usually is). No one makes you laugh harder. I love how much you love him.

I might not know the date you drank from a cup or sat up on your own but I can tell you what kind of baby you’ve been and I hope I captured that for you here. Your uncle vava recently said “Sadie, what a great addition she’s been.” It’s true. I don’t know how we ever lived without you. We all love you, sure, but we really like you too. You’re a great kid.

(Previous Letters to Sadie)

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