Maya at 18 months. But also, sisterhood.

Before I wrote this, I re-read Lila’s 18-month update, and the similarities are uncanny, even down to favorite words and activities. And while this is a post celebrating Maya, it would be incomplete without a proper tribute to the ongoing bond between these two girls. Nothing makes either one happier than the other. Lila has insane patience with Maya, endlessly committed to making her laugh, and soothing her when she cries. She talks to her in a special voice reserved just for her sister, and strokes Maya’s cheek and tickles her neck any time she’s sad.

It’s so fantastically heartwarming. Nothing beats it. When we came home from swim class a few weekends ago, Maya was at the grocery store with Jim, and Lila sat on the kitchen floor in distress. “I don’t like it when Maya’s not here, momma, it’s too quiet. If she’s not here, I won’t be happy.”

Maya has a similar affinity for Lila. Every morning she wakes up and points to her bedroom door repeatedly commanding “thith-ter” until we take her to Lila’s room. The same thing happens at school pick up – I always get Maya first, and she immediately starts saying, “thith-ter, Yi-la,” and pointing to her classroom – where she makes a beeline straight toward her. And they hug* and squeal and I’m not kidding this happens every day and is life.

*Nine out of ten times Lila hugs Maya too tightly and then when she releases her, Maya falls and cries. We’ve grown used to this and I don’t think it’s changing any time soon.

The favorite game these two play is every night after dinner, when they’re freshly bathed and on the dangerous cusp of being super exhausted and really, really hyper. They chase each other around the kitchen island then collapse onto the dog beds yelling “night night.” Over. And. Over. Again. And we’re fairly confident one day soon this will cause a head injury, but until that day, party on.

But this was supposed to be a post about Maya and it got hijacked. Enter the plight of the second child.

Maya – you are unbelievably sweet. Despite entering full-on toddlerhood, you love to cuddle and be held. Your teachers describe you as “melty” because you have this amazing way of melting into someone who holds you.

You talk non-stop, and are extremely verbal and expressive. The words we hear most often are yaaa, no, mah (more), agua, mama, dada, go, bye-bye, hi, ca-ca (cracker), poo poo and a host of animal sounds. But we also get dozens of other words and expressions. Emphatic oh-nos, shrieks of the dogs’ names and even da-da-doo-doo because that effing shark song is everywhere.

You are a quiet observer, and my sense is you’re an introvert, because after you’ve had a lot of activity you often slip away to look at books in your room, or play by yourself. You take time to process people and situations before engaging and are selective about who you will let hold you. The way to your heart is, ironically, chasing you – because this is VERY FUNNY.

You love to make us laugh, and have a solid mischievous streak. When you’re told, “no,” you often grin, laugh uproariously and run away. This makes it difficult to scold you.

Your hair is as curly as can be and you still refuse to wear shoes, despite an obsession with putting them on and taking them off.

You eat just about everything and also delight in chucking fistfuls of food across the kitchen and at the dogs. You adore books and being read to, and turning the pages yourself. You love to give running hugs, spend time outside and dig in dirt and sand.

Thank you for all the magic and joy you bring us on a daily basis, and for keeping us present in a world of distractions. We love you.


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