Dear R,

I haven't written one of these in a while, so I thought it was time, especially since you turned two pretty recently.

Slowly, slowly, you are losing your fear of people. You're still not big on walking by yourself when we're out of the house, but you seem to realize that all the neighborhood elderly people cooing at you are actually pretty nice, and will give me a grin and murmur a belated "bye" after the person has walked away.

Compared to other toddlers your age, you're a little slow in the vocab department. But I'm not worried, since you seem to understand every word I say, these days. And you want to know the names for everything: you'll point and ask, "Kore, kore?", which means "this, this" in Japanese. You may not know all your alphabet or colors yet, but you can correctly identify at least six different kinds of dogs (poodles, dachshunds, chihuahuas, shiba dogs, bulldogs, and corgis) and I bet you'd be able to name more, except that some dog names are rather long (king charles cavalier spaniel--whatever).

You definitely know when we're talking about you or, worse, laughing at something awkward that you've done, and you do not like it; I do remember my own parents doing this when I was a kid, and how that made me feel, so I've been trying hard not to even crack a smile if it's ever at your expense--like the other night when you were fidgeting and moving about on your seat while eating dinner and you somehow slipped off the cushion, and the entire bowl of spaghetti flipped over onto your startled face. I'm sorry, baby, but inside I was cracking up.

You like to call yourself "Baby Boo"; so do I. You do not like to be called a "good girl," but I can call you a "good bunny rabbit."

You still LOVE eating, which I'm always amazed and grateful for. Although to be honest, I don't think at this age that toddlers really need that much food. I mean, considering how much you consume and how little you move, you should be an extremely obese insomniac. But you're still pretty little--though my back doesn't think so, and wow am I creaking about like an arthritic old lady these days--and you sleep a decent amount. Your favorite foods are beef, octopus, and clams. Though on Christmas, you had your first taste of chocolate--pieces of candied orange peel dipped in dark chocolate--and I'm pretty sure it was a hit, considering the desperate edge in your voice as you kept asking for more.

You thought Christmas was your birthday, part two. This would be a fairly logical conclusion. I mean, grandma, grandpa, and great-grandma came over, there was a fancy dinner (you were pretty excited at the sight of the whole roasted chicken and kept circling around it and wanting to touch it), you got presents, you were once again the focus of everyone's attention. What else would all that fuss be about?

You can now ride your tricycle and put on your socks by yourself. Not at the same time.

And this morning, for the very first time, you PLAYED INDEPENDENTLY. I couldn't believe it. I ran downstairs to grab something, expecting the automatic and unceasing hollering of "mama, mama"...but, nothing. I rushed back up, imagining I'd find you dead on the floor or about to do something particularly forbidden--like dangling Edward the Dog out the living room window--and instead, when I peeked around the corner, you were sitting quietly and calmly, trying to nurse your toy rabbit while stacking blocks at the same time. Multitasking AND independent play. My heart could have burst with pride. I couldn't help noticing how tenderly you cuddled Mr. Bunny in the crook of your arm and gently stroked his back, every so often. Now if only you could be that nice to our dog. You even proudly admitted at lunch today that "Wuta kick Eddie." You felt the need to confess this repeatedly.

But you're really a good girl, R. No, sorry, I meant a good bunny rabbit.