Happy 2nd Birthday Clara Godfrey
Memories from the past year of your life
Congrats on completing your 2nd full rotation around the sun! You’ve grown and changed so much and developed a personality all your own. Here are some of my favorite memories from the 2nd half of your life thus far:
Walking: You started walking right around one, but only if someone held your hand. By 14 months you certainly could walk alone, but you refused. Of course by 19 months, you demanded to walk alone — especially across the street. Before I left town with the boys in mid-July, you would sometimes walk a few steps. When I came back 10 days later, you were running. And climbing stairs. If you weren’t our third kid, we’d probably be making sure you didn’t fall instead of snapping photos.
Babbling: Speaking of those 10 days…when I left you rarely strung together more than a single indiscriminate word or grunt. When I came back, you were babbling. With purpose! I have no idea what sentences you were forming in your mind (I often still don’t), but oh how eloquent you must’ve felt! I just know it made me smile and wonder how I’d missed so much in so little time.
Talking: Your first favorite word was “Yeah!”. At 16 months I’m not sure you knew what it meant, but it was your default answer. Which made for a great party trick:
“Clara, am I best dad ever?”
“Yeah!”
“Clara, is Colton a watermelon?”
“Yeah!”
Priceless
Talking, part II: Mom was touched when you started saying “momma”. She was less touched when this became your way of demanding or objecting. You’d point and hysterically say “momma…momma…momma” in a sad and frantic tone.
In the last 3 months your vocabulary has exploded, and you’ve started stringing words together. “Night night brothers” as I take you to bed is one of my favorites, but of course it’s “hi daddy!” that really makes my day when I come home.
High fives: You figured this out just after turning one, and did it with gusto. Over and over to me, mom, Ana, and occasionally your brothers. But it sometimes took a while to warm to strangers. We knew they’d won your trust when you gave them that first high five.
Eating: You started the year unable to feed yourself. Pretty quickly, you refused to let me help. We had fights over you trying to scoop your own avocado with a plastic spoon — a fruitless task that left you frustrated (and presumably hungry). But now you’re better with a fork than either of your older brothers, and the only kid in the house who eats cereal with milk and a spoon. So I guess persistence pays off.
Any food you don’t want or like is thrown to the side. Totally unacceptable for it to just sit uneaten on your plate. Can’t really blame you, I’m sure you learned it from your brothers.
Curiosity: You grab anything that come into view. Knives, your brothers’ toothbrushes, markers, mom’s keys, dad’s beer, whatever. And most of this stuff ends up in your mouth of course. And if anyone is staring at their phone, you race around yelling “I wanna see! I wanna see!”. No matter what is on the screen, you give a big smile and a little chuckle. Like you’re now part of some big secret.
Helping out in the kitchen: It was unacceptable for there to be any towels hanging from handles in the kitchen. You saw to it that these were removed promptly and placed in their rightful place on the ground. When you see your brothers clearing their plates you ask “be excused?” and even if you’re still hungry will grab your plate and throw it into the sink. Of course, any food that was still on the plate ends up scattered on the floor. But it’s the thought that counts.
Balls and trucks: Your favorite toys. You’d grab any ball you can find and play fetch with yourself. You’d grab trucks and make revving sounds. We didn’t really have any “girl toys” in the house, so maybe you just didn’t have any choice. But I prefer to think that you just love balls and trucks.
By 22 months you’d bring me a ball and say “throw”. We’d play catch and you were a stickler for the rules. If your throw was errant, you’d run over to grab the ball from wherever it ended up, and instead of throwing it again you’d run over and hand it to me for my turn to throw.
Sports: Speaking of balls…you’re a bit young to play sports, but it’s already clear you have a great arm. And you run all over the house — face stretching forward and arms pinned back, almost like you’re trying to fly. You love to wear jerseys. Redskins, Seahawks, Huskies. We’ve literally had to tear Colt’s flag football jersey off you through screams. And it still makes me laugh when someone on TV hits a big basketball shot and you yell out “Ohhhh!”
Bedtime: By 16 months you knew what “night night” meant, and would protest loudly. But only for a minute. You seemed resigned to your fate, and your thumb in your mouth signaled silent surrender. By 20 months you only wanted me to put you to bed. Mom would say “time for night-night” and you’d run screaming “NO!! daddy! daddy! daddy!” I’d pick you up and say “ready to go night-night?” and you’d softly reply “yeeeaaaaah…”
Older brothers: Cam is the brother you love to hate. You love his games of peak-a-boo, until they get a bit rough. You probably have PTSD from all the times he’d run up and steal your toy. But then he’d kiss you gently and pet your head, and you’d forget. Until next time.
By the time you turned 18 months, you were starting to inject yourself into their games. Running, jumping, climbing, wrestling, whatever. You just wanted to be included, and it didn’t matter that it was a little too rough. You’d scream, cry, and run to me for comfort. And then, once more back into the fray.
Brushing teeth: Unlike your brothers, you actually like to brush your teeth. Maybe just to feel included? At first you were happy for me to do it. But eventually, like everything else, you demanded to do it yourself. So like your brothers before you, I ended up holding your head and arms and brushing your teeth through protesting screams. Your teeth will thank me one day.
Accessories: You’re a sucker for hats and shoes. Anytime you disappear for more than a couple minutes, smart money says you’ll return with shoes and a hat. Could be your shoes, or could be mine, mom’s, a brother’s, or a combination. And any hat I’m wearing quickly becomes your hat. Baseball hat, sun hat, stocking cap, cardboard box, whatever. And sunglasses? Bags? You can’t get enough! You wear it all with style.
Mini-mom: You bear a striking resemblance to your mom when she was your age. And in addition to your shared love of shoes (see above), you apparently inherited her work ethic as well, typing away with focused intensity on your laptop. Mini-mom indeed.
Music: You love to dance. You’ve started to sing, and to chant “Let’s go Warriors!” You’ll play the harmonica, piano, drums, xylophone, and any other noise-making device you can find. Even Simon. Actually, I guess maybe you just really like noise. Which is good, because you and your brothers sure make a lot of it.
Stranger Danger: Last year you were scared of dogs. And really anything else that was unfamiliar. Recently you’ve started to warm to strangers. On only your second flight earlier this month, you were making friends in the airport and on the plane. Despite being awake for 14 straight hours, you were the life of the flight, helping everyone forget about our 4 hour delay. And when you finally did nod off, you refused to put your head on my lap and instead got comfortable on the arm of your new friend.
Silliness: Beyond everything, this is what most defines you. Your tougue is constantly out and waving around. When I’m sitting on the ground you hide behind me and pop out to reveal yourself, then burst into giggles before returning to your secret spot for another round. You stick one finger to your mouth like you’re contemplating something profound (and I’d love to know what!). Your favorite book is Tickle Monster (which I strongly recommend), barely able to restrain yourself as you anticipate the upcoming tickles, then exploding with uninhibited laughter when the reckoning comes.
Don’t get me wrong — when you’re upset, the whole world knows. And you can flip that switch from happy to sad and back again as fast as anyone. But your joy is contagious. I can’t imagine our family without you. Logistically it would be easier, but emotionally it would be incomplete. Thank you for being born two years ago. I can’t wait to see what the next year and beyond will bring. I love you so much.
Happy birthday!
