Dear Simon,

The first six months of your second year were pretty normal - you wanted to be outside (with Calvin) or somewhere, ANYWHERE besides home. Indoors we chased you around the leather chair in the middle of the living room because that was the only space to run. Around and around. We would stop and hide and pop out and ROAR and you would squeal with delight. This did get old. We worried. Your toys spilled over into every room; even when they were put away. We had gates up to block the dining room to keep you away from Winslow, all the cords from the multimedia appliances, the recycling, and the pieces of food that inevitably were left on the floor after your meals. We gated the doorway to the kitchen so we wouldn't have to lock every cabinet door and we gated the top and the bottom of the stairs. We even had a gate in our bedroom so you wouldn't get to sleeping Winslow or the computers. With all the restrictions on space our home sometimes felt like a prison; we couldn't blame you for wanting to get out and explore.

Once Mama decided to look for new jobs, time became tight. Mama and Daddy tried to be excited about the future but everything seemed so uncertain. Where would we go? What would we do? Truth be told, we really wanted to stay. It was Bay Area real estate and financial advisors that inadvertently helped us make the decision to leave. You see, we couldn't possibly afford a larger home in a fun neighborhood within a good school district. When we were told just how much we would have to pay, we blanched. How could it be that people have cute little homes in Palo Alto? Are there that many lottery winners? Did the tech bubble burst only for a few? WHAT DO THESE PEOPLE DO? Where did we go wrong? Mama became incensed. Daddy became depressed. Motorola made an offer. We decided to leave.

The middle of your year was filled with change. We thought you would be upset (that's what the development books say to expect) but you loved it. You thought having boxes from floor to ceiling was just about the best gift ever and then you woke up one morning to find the fan, usually tucked away high on a shelf, on the floor next to a full size REAL watering can. "ALL RIGHT!" you yelled. We stopped reading child development books around then; you are an aberration; in your wake, all child development formulas seem slightly flawed.

You loved watching Daddy fix up the Mountain View house. From the moment you saw him using a screwdriver to replace some hinges, you were in love. You are a handyman in the making. If only you could convince Mama and Daddy to let you play with the real screwdrivers so you could "fix" the electrical outlets! Besides tools, your loves are music and books and pushing buttons, unlocking locks and talking on the phone. You also enjoy cooking and drawing and swinging and running and jumping and splashing. Daddy started taking you to a French class in Chicago once a week because, for reasons we can't quite comprehend, you are completely enamored with French. You sing various French songs (in tune!) a good percentage of your waking hours.

Your first real Winter was tough not because it snowed a lot (because it didn't) but because you absolutely refused to wear your mittens or your hat so Daddy couldn't take you outside for more than a few minutes at a time for several months in a row. Our new house has much more space to explore but you still want to be outside. In that way, this house is a prison too. Now that warm weather has finally arrived, you spend every possible moment outdoors. At least Mama and Daddy bought a house across from a park; they do get things right occasionally.

While your first year was about moving, getting out on your own, finally being able to go where ever you pleased, your second year of life has been all about trying to figure out how exactly to get what you want. Sometimes this has been about telling Mama and Daddy what you want but mostly you prefer to figure these things out for yourself. In your second year you mastered climbing, jumping, and using objects around you as props to get you where you want to go. You've also experienced moments of great frustration when you discover that you're just not big enough, strong enough, or old enough to do everything.

Although you're getting there very quickly, one thing you haven't quite mastered is English. Over the past year you have started many long conversations with Mama and Daddy - inevitably you paused to ask a question. You repeated the question. You repeated the question again. Know why Mama and Daddy were staring blankly? It was because, up until very very recently, YOU DIDN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Simonese is an adorable language and we are going to miss it once it is completely gone but everyday use of Simonese has caused much frustration in our lives. A few months ago, in the park, a woman thought you were speaking German. She actually started to talk to you IN GERMAN (and you answered her in Simonese). While we used to get the typical, "how old is he?" question in your first year, the most frequently asked question while out and about in your second year has been "what language is he speaking?" People everywhere marveled at how you would go on and on and on using gestures and sounding exactly like you were discussing the most important news of the day.

It is ironic that words can not express how amazing it is to communicate with you. Now that we finally understand you, we hope, for your sake, to eventually stop revealing just how excited we are every time you come up with a new sentence. Some people say the terrible twos are where the difficulties begin but we feel like we've finally moved from the dark ages into the age of enlightenment. Of course we've enjoyed you from the start but now, in addition to being our boy, you are also our friend.

Often, as you lie in our bed pretending to "seep," we stand there with our arms wrapped around each other and watch you, your eyes closed tightly, head on a pillow, covers pulled up to your chin, long lean body doing its very best to stay still. Inevitably one of us whispers "we did that" and we let the thought linger, enjoying the moment of silence before you jump up to "surprise" us, fully expecting to be tickled and covered with kisses. "Night night, Mama! Night night Daddy! Love you." and then the game starts again.

We did that. We made you. What power we possess. It's amazing no one else thought of it first.

Happy Second Birthday.

Love,

Mama and Daddy

How Old? A Short Simonial Movie Clip (you may have to open it twice before it runs)
The *Final* Boppy Image Installment
One year ago today
Two years ago today