Will is 4 ˝ .
In the car on the way to church one Sunday afternoon ... Will is recovering from a cold and is unnaturally subdued. He starts coughing, hard. It goes on for a while. Without turning to look at him, Ellen says from her seat, “Doin' ok?” Without turning to look at Ellen, Will says, “Yes.” No drama, no fuss, absolutely straight faces. They looked and sounded like an old married couple.
Will: “Mommy, did you eat Ellen?” (by way of the 97th discussion about the birds and the bees).
Me: “No, Mommies and Daddies have a special kind of hug that makes babies.” (Isn't that good way to phrase it for this age?! I thought so.)
Will, suspicious: “How did she come out of you?”
Me, not sure how clinical to get: “Well, she came out from a place between my legs.”
Will thinks about it: “Oh! I know – your knees! Did you break your knees?”
Me, going for broke: “No, actually she came out from my vagina.”
Long silence and I could hear the wheels turning.
Will: “Does your vagina have a door on it?”
“I LOVE school!” This is unique not because he doesn't or can't do well at school, but Will isn't very emotive, so this was a great thing to hear. Like me, he does get overwhelmed with feelings of love sometimes, but he is generally not visually or verbally dramatic with his feelings.
He was very sad when I left home for several days for recent trips. I brought him back post cards to show him where I'd been and that seemed to help, as did pointing out my destinations on a map.
“I wonder how we can make the seasons turn faster? “ (after discussing going to the beach this summer). He's nothing if not a hypothetical thinker: “If we were in the TV, the seasons would turn VERY fast.”
Will gets worried about things. A lot. For example, when Ellen wouldn't let me brush her teeth despite my dire warnings about what could happen to them (I know, who would think long term consequences would mean nothing to a two year old?), Will was very concerned. The next night, as we are repeating the futile exercise of me running after Ellen with a toothbrush, he says with true anxiety, “Oh, no, Mommy, they’re going to fall out!” Poor guy.
“If you don’t use a belt, you could easily fall out of an airplane.” (In Will's world, dire events can 'easily' happen).
“Where are their mommy and daddy!?” This is a constant concern of his, especially when observes kids doing things they shouldn’t do on TV programs or in books. He sounds like he's an old man bemoaning the unsupervised state of youth today.
This broke my heart. I usually am very patient with Will's anxieties about new things and new ideas and unfamiliar routines, but I got frustrated one day and said something like “Why can't you just try new things, Will?” Later on that day he said to me, very seriously, in way that I knew he'd been giving it a lot of thought: “Mommy, maybe when I’m 5, I can try new things.” Point taken, sweet darling.
“My ear feels like the sound of growing hair.”
“Why do we go to church?” For once I had a good answer: “Because we feel good when we go, we learn things, and the people there love us.”
We have been working very hard (as way to help alleviate his event and timing related anxieties) on the idea of tomorrow and yesterday and today and calendars, etc. One evening on the way home from a swimming lesson, Will said, “What day is it? Where can we see what day it is? I don’t see it out there.”
I said, “Well, you won't see it outside, we just know in our minds what day it.
He squints his eyes. I ask him what he is doing. He says, “Looking in my mind. I don’t see it … I don’t see ANYTHING in there.”
Will: “Daddy, why does Mommy call you 'babe'?”
Steve: “Because she doesn't know my name.”
After swimming lessons one evening, I sat in the locker room and watched Will attempt to dress himself. It took nearly a hundred years and he still only had once sock on and his underwear was backwards. I vacilated between extreme irritation and hysterical laughter. Another mother there knew exactly what I was feeling.
Relating the story to Steve later, he said, “Its hard to have a brain and a
.” I've revised my theory on men running the world – its really an underdog story after all.
Ellen is almost 2 ˝.
As with last time, her vocabulary and sentence crafting grow exponentially.
Me: “What’s wrong?
Which seems like an advanced concept for 2 year to have - 'nothing'. That or she just knows that's how people sometimes answer that question,
She is putting together longer and more complex sentences: “What is Hammie doing?” “Where is Daddy going?” “ Hammie hurt his hand.” “Mommy doing good?”
This is one of my favorites: She picks her nose and hands the goodies to me. At least she isn't eating her boogies yet.
Steve witnessed this outside on our deck. Ellen talking to a bird on the birdfeeder:
“Hi Bird. I’m Ellen-t. This Hammie and Daddy.” Isn't that amazing?! There are adults who can't properly greet or introduce people.
(I added a -t to her name because lately she adds a 't' sound to any word that ends in 'n'.) It isn't the quite the same as Will's Italian accent from his younger years, but its still funny.
Other random bits that I find funny:
“La-la-la. Dance, Mommy!” (I could have sworn she said, “Dance, monkey!” which would have been apt)
“Wait!” (dramatically and for no reason).
Me: What is THAT?!
Ellen: A smoke detector.
(How does she know what a smoke detector is?!? Oh, wait. Caillou. Still – pretty good for her to identify the source of the noise before I could)
“Yellow Sumarine-t!” (delighted)
“Its your birthday!” (to Daddy with pretend cake made of sand).
“I wanna XYZ!!!” Best and most classic 2 year old statement.
At kids’ museum, Ellen was crying because she didn't want to leave a particular room. A stranger asked her, “What is wrong?” I might normally have answered for her, but I didn't this time. Ellen replied slowly and seriously, “I’m vewy sad.” The stranger said, “Why are you sad?” A pause, as Ellen thought about it. “Nuh-sing.” she replied finally with very serious face.
One morning when I went into her room to get her up for the day, she yelled, “Surprise!” I still laugh thinking about that.
“Yea! I luv-a da beach!” “I luv-a da corna cob!” “I luv-a da pool!” Ellen luv's many things, and luv's them loudly and emphatically.
“Saute!” (As she jumps around)
This is a recent addition to her lexicon: “I guess so.” Which is just trippy coming from someone basically without hair.
I am so pleased to be able to ready to both Will and Ellen at night time together. Its one of my favorite activities and its so much fun to see their interpretations of and feelings about and thoughts on stories. I love, love, love it.