Bear and Mouse,
One of my favorite parts of you both grow up, is listening to you speak. At first, it’s just so entertaining to hear you say anything, and then before long, you start to link words together, and then finally form sentences… But the only thing more mind-boggling than hearing your ideas, is the logic that fuels them. It seems so sound when you describe it, but in reality, it is so hilariously misguided. And then there is the topic of pronunciation.
Here are my favorite things you say, or have said recently
It’s completely apparent you’re a bit fan of the ladies, and you especially have an eye for older girls, or “big gills,” as you say.
When you talk about something being really big, you’ll say, “It’s the biggest in the whole wheeled (world).”
Every night when we tuck you in, you always try to stall by asking a series of questions or begging for more stories. You new tag line is, “When will it be the morning?”
One night you woke up with the flu and I crawled into your bed to comfort you. You asked me why I didn’t wear a whig and told me you never wanted to cut your hair. In the morning, you didn’t recall this conversation and found it incredibly funny.
One night I told you it was time for bed, and you said, “Sing me one more song!” I told you I’d already sung you many songs and read you countless books, to which you replied, “You have two choices, you can sing and sing and sing, or I will cry and cry and cry.”
Another night I tucked you in and said goodnight, to which you asked, “Where are you going?” I responded, “Downstairs.” You shrugged, holding your arms out wide and cocked your head to the side and said, “Downstairs? Seriously? You’re going downstairs?” You couldn’t believe anything was more entertaining than hanging out with you.
The other day you told me, “There are two types of cough drops. One is candy and a special treat, the other is for when you have a bad throat.”
You currently don’t have words like, today and tomorrow in your vocabulary. Instead, you say, “This day,” or “On another day I did do that.” The other night you were throwing a complete fit and I threatened to take away your Legos for a week. You snapped out of it and asked if you could get a Buba Fett Lego guy. I said, “I can’t believe you’re asking me for toys with how rude you’re being.” To which you simply responded, “Not this day, another day.”
You only recently learned that dreams are not something visible to everyone in your house. You woke up one morning and immediately started talking to me about pie. When I asked you what you were talking about, you said, “From our dream, remember, we were all eating pie?”
This weekend Dexter met another dog. I told you they got along, to which you immediately asked, “Are they going to get married?”
You are obsessed with the song “You are my Sunshine,” and request it often. Some nights when I think you’re finally crashed out in my arms, as I rock you in my chair, I’ll hear, “Shunshine,” through your pacie-clenched teeth. “You want me to sing you Sunshine?” You’ll push your head back from my chest, respond, “Mm-phmm,” then flop your head back down. Recently I believe someone thought you “Row, row, row your boat,” because you’ve begun demanding, “Boat… boat.” I started singing and asked, “This song?” You responded, “Mm-phmm,” then flop your head back down again.
Unlike your brother, you’ll typically let me sing you any type of songs at bedtime, but you’ve become quite opinionated. The other night I began signing you an Avett Brothers’ song and you shouted, “No!” “No, I asked? Do you want Tear Down the House,” another one of their songs I sing to you, to which you responded, “Mm-phmm.” Other times you’ll simply demand, “Shing songs, Daddy.”
You love you blanket, and will demand, “Acky, acky” whenever you don’t have it, but feel its presence is necessary.
Since my birthday, you’ll smile and sing, “Happy to you. Happy to you.” The way you sing it, there are no spaces, it’s all one big word, “happytoyou.”
You love your grandparents so much and get so excited to see them. You call them Bammie and Bapa, or Bammie and BigBapa. You ask for them often.
You say “Tank-ew” instead of please, sometimes and it’s absolutely adorable. When we remind you to say please, you throw in a “Peeeaaassss” where a “Thank you” would traditionally go.
When you’re thirsty, you say, “Some waters?” over and over again.
You’re beyond in love with your Mama, and I think you’ve decided in your mind that all mothers must be as amazing as yours. As a result, when you see women you don’t know, you’ll point to them and ask, “Dis a Mama?”
Lately, you’ll start to throw a fit, and fuss “I want Mama!” I’ll tell you, “Mama’s at work,” and prepare myself to hear more whining, but instead, you’ll calmly respond, “Oh, Okay.”
As much as you both talk to great lengths and at great volumes, you do both have very selective hearing. Anytime we ask you to do something, Arlo will respond, “What?” While Elliott adds a “Huh?” Oddly this lapse in hearing often strikes when we’re asking you to clean up a mess, or stop throwing a fit, and your hearing instantly improves when offerings of ice cream or treats are made.
I doubt I’ll ever stop thinking your thoughts are incredibly humorous or adorable, and I think my heart will always melt a little each time you tell me you love me.
I love you so much, my little chatter boxes.