I'm very late in posting this (which is also why I'm back-dating it) but still wanted to do so anyway. After I had written my birthday letter to Aliyah, I thought it would be a great idea to have Sebastian write one as well. My hope is that every year until she's 18, we will both write her a letter.
It was interesting for me to read what Sebastian wrote, because I realized as I was reading his letter that how we remember milestones can really differ from person to person.
Happy 2nd birthday, Princess!
I can't believe it's been two years. Put better, I can't believe it's been ONLY two years.
Where to begin? The last year has been amazing, but it didn't really start so. I missed your first birthday because I had already driven to Arizona. I had just taken my promotion and was so worried I would be one of those Dads who wasn't around - I even told your Mom all about that fear. I did Skype your birthday party (you had it at your Godmother's house.)
I flew up the next weekend, picked up you and your Mom and we drove for two days down California and into the desert. We won't talk about the first hotel we tried to stay at in Palm Springs, but it was quite a trip. You behaved so well. We stopped at a few truck stops to watch the big 18-wheelers go by as we ate lunch. I must say that through all the moves and travel, you've been quite the sport. I can only hope you hold onto this quality as you grow.
We spent two weeks in a nice condo in North Scottsdale, right beside a beautiful open desert field and the airport. The sunsets were as beautiful as the weather was hot. But neither the heat nor the sunsets compared in intensity to the sheer joy you brought your mother and I when you started talking steps.
You had been standing for so long, just building confidence. And then you did it. On a wood floor in the middle of the condo, you took a step... then fell. And from there on out, our days were set - I came home and we got to work! Mom and I would sit on the floor across from each other and you would take 1... then 2... then 4, 5, 6 steps. Before we knew it, you were standing on your own and walking across rooms.
Settling into our apartment in Tempe was tough. We lived in a 2 story, fairly cramped and bland apartment for 8 months before we bought our house last April. You adjusted to daycare pretty well.
How you loved Mrs. Olga, your older Russian daycare teacher. And she loved you right back. When you first started talking, Olga was a very popular word! By the time we left that daycare, Olga cried. I believed her when she said you were special. The emotion was absolutely authentic, to the point where my emotions surprised me.
But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Let's step back...
We worked hard on lots of your learning fundamentals. ABCs came, and numbers a few months later. In between we did shapes, animals and you started needing your nighttime story time. And let's be fair - colors were very difficult for you, especially green and red. You get them now... most of the time.
At some point in Tempe, you fell in love with two things; two very big things. Trucks and Airplanes. You could spot them from so far away. Every now and then you would scream, "AIRPLANE!", and Mom and I would look into the sky. We wouldn't see anything and you'd keep yelling, and I'm telling you, each and every time, there was an airplane - a pixel in the sky, and eagle-eye Aliyah saw it!
Trucks had a similar impact. So did any type of animal. So did any type of anything really. It wasn't that you were curious (all toddlers are), but the exuberance you brought to those moments of discovery. Soon enough, you'd say "What that!?" and we'd say "cactus". And you'd remember. Just like that. Then you'd remind us that you knew by shouting "Cactus!" every time we passed one (which, in Arizona, is quite often.)
Mom and I were pretty good about the rules we set for you. We didn't want you watching alot of TV and did pretty good up until about 18 months. You loved your ABC puppies, Cars (Ligh'ping go fast!) and Dora. At this point, it's pretty much ‘all Dora, all the time’ when the TV's on.
You've fallen in love with Legos, choose a different fruit to love just about every week, and seem to have a knack for most everything you try. You’re still a bit fussy when it comes time to go to bed. Not to say that you’re not good at going into your crib. At least 5 times a night you call for your mother or I to come in for some different reason – to get your Lightning McQueen, or for water, or a book. Right now we’re simply rocking you to a calm state each night and you fall asleep.
You’re absolutely in love with the outdoors. You have been since you were a baby. The first thing that ever fascinated you were trees. Any type of tree you saw, we would stop so you could take a closer look. What’s funny about that is trees are the source of your greatest current fear.
Leaves! They stop you cold. In the pool or on a walkway, you’re never more distressed than when a leaf stands between you and your door. Your mother and I aren’t too worried. I doubt you’re leaphobia will persist.
I’m missing a lot of good memories, I know, but if your 2nd year of life leaves me with one clear memory - one I will always remember with absolute glee - it was your singing. Oh, how you sang. In the car on the way home from school, we sing each and everyday (in between games of “where’s Aliyah”). Here is a small sample of your current favorites
- ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’
- ‘ABCs’
- ‘Happy Birthday to You’
- ‘Yellow Submarine’ (which you learned simply from me. I don’t know that you’ve ever heard the Beatles do it)
- ‘You Make me Feel’ so… La La La La La.
- ‘The Itsy Bitsy Spider’
- ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ (You’ve replaced wheels and wipers with cows and pigs)
- Any song from Dora
- ‘If You’re Happy and you Know It’
- ‘Please and Thank You’
And that isn’t even half of them. Your Mom used to say, “I sing because I’m happy.” And if that’s true, you’re one happy girl. Like all parents, that’s all we want.
I know you’re little, but I’m so proud of you; the way you grow, the way you behave, the way you sing and smile. You are a gift to us, each and everyday. Even when you’re trouble, it’s hard for me to see anything but a beautiful, vibrant little girl who loves her parents and the world around her.
Do me one favor, would you? Please keep asking “What’s that?” Keep asking “Oh, no! What’s happened Daddy?” I can’t wait to answer your questions as you come to find out who you are, and your wonderful place in this world.
Oh, and you’ve got a cannon for an arm. I’ve never seen a little girl who can throw a ball quite like you!
With all the love I have,
Your Daddy,
Sebastian

