Odessa recently had her ballet performance. She received a new tutu from my mom, and the day of the performance was to be her first day using it. The children sat with their parents in the audience until it was time for them to perform. The tutu was so puffy that we couldn’t have her wear it while waiting for her to go on stage, because she’d smack everyone in the face with it as she tried to exit the row. So, when it was her turn, she and Serena left the row and put it on while in the aisle. However, this delay meant they were about to start without her. She shouted, to the whole theater, “Wait!” A moment later, she said, “I am putting my tutu on,” to the amusement of the audience. For a brief time, the theater was quiet as she and Serena worked to get it on. She then must have decided that they deserved to know more about the tutu. “It was a present that I got from Grandma Von Ruden!” Everyone was still amused, but they weren’t entirely sure what she said.

Prior to the theater performance, we saw a rehearsal where all the children did their parts with enthusiasm. But when on the stage, most of the kids seemed to be hesitant to perform. An exception, of course, was Odessa, who had more her share of enthusiasm.

This story is probably pretty dull to most people. I realized for the first time what it’s like to watch one’s child perform something publicly. I am not immune to the feelings of pride that most parents must experience. As a consequence, I find it likely that I’m talking about it far too much.

I took a crappy video of the show. You can see her bounding across the stage to meet her peers. It’s pretty cute. It includes other children, and is consequently password protected, like the slideshows. The password is the same as the others. You can view the video here. The video is not very high quality, unfortunately.

I’ve uploaded the slideshow for Leo’s second year to our Vimeo page. You can view it here. Even though there aren’t other children in this slideshow, I have still made it password protected. To simplify things, the password is the same as the one for Odessa’s, so if you remember it you can use it here as well. If you’ve forgotten it, or just never got around to asking for it, I’d like to once again remind you that if you even remotely know us at all, you’re welcome to view it. Just email me or Serena, or contact her on Facebook. Or ask someone else who already knows it. Or join the Freemasons.

Tomorrow, December 11, will be Leo’s second birthday. If you would permit me one word to describe his second year of life on this planet, I would choose the word, “bruises.” If you allowed me to use two words, I’d say “many bruises.” If you gave me three words, I might mix it up a little and say he was a “mimic with bruises.” I’m not sure–with only three words to use, I might not want to use one of them on the word “with.” If you gave me four words, I’d wonder why you were handing them out piecemeal and then I would become suspicious of your motives. I’m not here to play your games.

Ignoring arbitrary word limits, I will now engage in actual, boring analysis of Leo’s last year. Leo is the most selfless person I’ve ever met. Lest you think I refer to some form of toddler altruism, let me dispel that notion with haste. His greed is legendary. By selfless I mean to say that he simply does not seem to care at all what happens to him. He travels at only one speed, namely, “recklessly fast.” If there are obstacles in his way, such as people or walls, they are of no concern to him. His head is a no man’s land of hills and craters, its diffusely-hued topography a monument to utter carelessness.

Despite all the head trauma, Leo is quite adept with language. It is likely that his parents, though they try to be objective, are suffering from bias and an unfair comparison with Odessa who, at his age, was below average in language skills. A month ago, Leo began saying phrases of a complexity that Odessa could only say by the time she turned three. He is observant and conversant. In seconds he can move from smiling to screaming, and he loves to copy whatever you’re doing. Mimicry is obviously not unique for a toddler, but again, Odessa was not much of a mimic herself, and so it is new for us to see these things in Leo.

This week he climbed out of his crib for the first time. This was something that Odessa had actually done much earlier than him. I came into his room to get him in the morning and he instantly stood up, put two legs over the rail, and climbed down. He astonished himself, and with a surprised intonation he exclaimed, “I did it!” followed by, and I am not making this up, “Woo!” He then ran right by me and out into the living room. And now, I cannot get him to stay in his crib any longer, so that’s fun.

I will be uploading a slideshow on our Vimeo site in a few days. Though I did not post any pictures on our website of the infamous black eye the Sturms gave him this year, there will be a photo of it in the slideshow. Sorry, Sturms, but it was a pretty significant part of the year for him. That thing was a work of art.