Last weekend, Surrey went and turned two years old. Already. I mean, how the hell did this happen, right? One day, she was twenty-three months old, and the next day, BOOM — she was two years old.
This year was fun, but the coming year is going to be so weird. By the end of next summer, Surrey will probably (please Jesus) be potty-trained. She’ll start using full sentences in the next few months or so. In the very near future she’ll give up her booster seat at the dining room table because those thighs just don’t fit underneath the table anymore. In the spring, I’ll take her to preschool orientation, and right before her birthday we’ll go shopping and pick out her first backpack. How is she old enough for all of this already?!
Okay, enough about next year, because that’s starting to freak me out. Here’s a list of things that we’ve learned about Surrey this past year:
Ginger rage: Surrey is generally a pretty happy girl, but holy shit does she have a temper. Here’s classic Surrey: wants something, can’t get it, then when she’s actually given what she wants, she’s so Hulked out that she won’t take what she wanted in the first place when you try to hand it to her. So yeah, that whole red-headed temper thing is just a myth.
(Next to the) pool party: Sit in the baby pool? No thanks. I’ll just sit right here next to the pool and use these pool toys and buckets to remove all the water from the pool.
Fuck you, dogs: For a kid who has been surrounded by dogs of all sizes her entire life, she fucking hates dogs. She has come to tolerate our poor little runt of a Boston terrier, but only barely, and only if he stays far, far away from her when she’s eating. Or thinking about eating. Or remembering a time she was eating. If he comes within a two-yard radius of her when any of those things are going on, she goes berserk, screaming and chasing him throughout the house like he owes her money. Dogs that she’s not forced to cohabitate with aren’t allowed to walk anywhere near her when she is a) sitting next to a baby pool, b) doing something food-related, or c) standing up.
Hug it out: Surrey has so many hugs to give, to anything and anyone. Sisters? Check. Mom? Always. Daddy? Yes. Mrs. Dinosaur, the enormous foam-rubber dinosaur toy that’s nearly as tall as she is? Get over here. The dog? NOT A CHANCE, MOTHERFUCKER.
Night moves: My favorite Surrey habit of all time: wait until about 2am, yell, “AAAAAAHHHHHH!!! MOMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!! and then take her pacifier and fire it across the room. Crawling around on my hands and knees in the dark trying to find a pacifier is awesome, but it’s even better when it’s STILL IN HER GODDAMN HAND and, after giving up, I look up and realize she’s been sitting in her crib, probably watching me with a smirk on her face the entire time. I wouldn’t really know what her face looks like though because it’s now 2:06am and it’s too dark to see the look on her face, and I’m only about 18% conscious. FYI, this is also the year that I started buying glow-in-the-dark pacifiers.
Troublemaker: Surrey delights in her sisters. Playing with them, yes, but specifically she loves to bug the shit out of them. Her favorite pastime is pushing their buttons as only a baby sister can do. For Bella, it’s as easy as repeating whatever phrase Bella is saying out of frustration at a higher pitch and decibel level. She zeroes in on the things Phaedra values most: adding a huge scribble across her new painting, choosing the one specific Lalaloopsy doll she wants to play with the most out of the pile to walk away with. She’s perfected the art of picking a fight with a sister, then crying as if she’s the victim when in fact she’s crying because she’s sooooo offended that her sister wouldn’t just hand over their toy or ice cream cone. It’s a rare bird that can figure out how to successfully annoy two girls as different as Phaedra and Bella, but she’s obviously a talented child.
There’s more, but some of it is hard to pinpoint into an exact thing. I’ve never been crazy about the phrase, “She lights up the room!” because it’s just so cliche, but that’s the closest thing I can come up with to describe her. She smiles, she loves, she dances, she’s loud, she just wants to be near the people she loves. And she loves almost everyone.
Especially these knuckleheads.
We love you, little one.
But please, for the love of Christ stop throwing that goddamn pacifier.