The last month has certainly been eventful, in that way that summer almost always is for children and then rarely is again. It began with him really figuring out the names of letters, and one day just leaving this piece of art for us in the living room while we were busy making breakfast--matching the refrigerator magnet letter to the squishy tile puzzle letter in the living room.
Sometimes, it's the things that happen when you're not looking that blow you away the most.
There was a wonderful visit from Adele from back in Arizona, in which we learned that the factor limiting how high a tower he could build was just his height--this one made it to 19 blocks before it fell!
Then there was perfecting his party-boy skills, dancing in a restaurant with a friend.
|And learning how to use the camera himself|
But perhaps most remarkable has been the explosion of his language, from a handful of words to more than I can count. He's almost stopped signing, which I kind of miss--he was a lot more comprehensible as a signer, and the most heartbreaking thing is when we can't understand his words, and he'll try and try, and then finally just put his head in his hands and weep. We'll see if this is just regular toddler incomprehensibility, or something associated with the articulation disorder. Besides, he was such a poet with his handful of signs, of necessity. When he first saw fireworks, he kept signing "the light broke," as we watched the single flare go up and burst into a thousand colors. "Stars," he signed. "The light broke into stars."
But there are other times when his new-found language is just pure pleasure. The other night we were out doing errands, which turned into going out for pizza, then a family soccer game in a nearby park, and then darkness was falling and somehow it was 9 pm.
We piled into the car, and in the dark Jennifer made a wrong turn onto a four lane limited access highway. As soon as she got onto the entrance ramp, she said, "Crap!"
"Cwap!" added a small voice in the back seat.
We knew, of course, that we couldn't react. If he knew this was a super-charged word, especially out of the mouths of babes, he'd never stop saying it. We held our breath for a millisecond, and burst out laughing. Little Bug was delighted. "Cwap!" he said again.
But under the hilarity, we were also going the wrong way in a rapidly moving car.
"I think it's a long way to an exit," said Jennifer.
"Cwap!" said Bug. Of course we laughed.
"There are no streetlights on this road."
"This is the kind of road I hate driving, disappearing into woods and nowhere."
"I still don't see a place to turn around."
Every time he said "cwap," we laughed harder, and his comic timing was precise. Maybe he was just imitating a sound he heard, but he sure used it well.
Eventually we got ourselves turned around and going in the right direction, and headed to try to do one last errand that had to be finished that night. We got almost home, and turned into the grocery store parking lot. A small wail came from the back seat, as Little Bug realized he still wasn't going to get to bed. Tired and a whiny, he said the only thing that could fully convey his unhappiness: