Dear Jacob,

Little by little you are figuring out your world. Sometimes it gets you in trouble. Most of your tantrums are precipitated by your trying to do something I do and landing yourself in a situation in which it’s likely that a) you’ll get hurt or b) you’ll break something. In those times, I try to see that you are only trying to figure it all out. Sometimes you are simply testing your limits, but even that is a natural part of growing up. And you really are growing up.

I admit I slacked off a little bit on the discipline the past few weeks, because I was having trouble figuring out what was making you lose your mind, and eventually I just wanted to avoid the tantrums. But since I’ve put my sheriff’s badge back on, you’ve responded very well to the boundaries I’ve set, so I think I dodged that messing-the-child-up bullet, which is good for everyone.

Now I see that when you do have tantrums—unless you’re really tired—they are with good reason. For the most part, you seem like a person who is able to laugh at himself, and I think that is a very good thing. You are still a pretty easygoing little guy, and the other day your dad and I kept saying to each other, “He’s such a good boy. . . . He’s just such a good boy.”

If your exploration doesn’t get you into trouble, it gives often gives me a great laugh. The other day, I cut your toenails in the morning (which you didn’t like at all). That evening, when I was putting you in your jammies, you found the clipper on the changing table and started to put it on your toes, like I had done. I’m not sure why you wanted to repeat what seemed to be an incredibly traumatizing experience, but it was funny all the same.

That day, too, you took another step toward properly using a spoon. You were holding the spoon in the right orientation, so I put a piece of chicken on it. You smiled, moved the spoon to your mouth, and ate the chicken. I celebrated! You put a blueberry on the spoon. Good job, I thought! Then you proceeded to take the blueberry off the spoon with your fingers and eat it. You moved to the next one: put blueberry on spoon, take blueberry off spoon, eat it, put blueberry on spoon, take blueberry off spoon, and so on. Essentially you were bouncing the blueberries off the spoon on the way to your mouth, which again was silly, but I see where you’re going. Who decided what the “proper” use of a spoon was anyway?

You also know that socks go on feet (though you haven’t figured out your socks don’t fit on my feet), you’ve figured out how to imitate a lot of what I do in the kitchen with your play kitchen (though it still frightens me when you come at me for a hug with your dull play knife in hand), and of course, you know how to give hugs and kisses/head butts.

It is so much fun to watch you figure out this silly world in your silly way, little man. And even if you never use a spoon “properly” (though I hope you do), I will love you forever and ever.

Love,
Mom

P.S. Sorry no pictures, Uncle Michael. More tomorrow, I hope!