It’s a weird period of time with E.
I’m both excited for what comes next, but sad about what’s ending.
For example, his language. I’m really excited for him to be able to talk and communicate and to hear all the funny things he’s going to start saying in the next 6 months. (18 months - 2 years old is a GIANT language explosion). But I’m also going to really miss how he is now. He “talks” all day with great expression and passion.
It’s all gibberish, but it’s very passionate and there are lots of grunts and pointing and standing on tip toe to get his point across. He’ll talk to his toys, to us, to the cat. It’s adorable and we all talk back to him by mimicking his language and it’s just so much fun. So while I look at his friends who can talk in sentences now and know that it will be cool when he can to, I’m super enjoying this time period right now.
There are other random things too, that I know will eventually go away. Like Sparky. In case you haven’t had the chance to meet him yet, Sparky is our power strip that I have in a drawer in my office desk. Multiple times a day, E will go to my desk and retrieve Sparky. Sparky is then handed to either me or Tom (usually Tom), and E will demand that you start walking Sparky in circles around the house. Usually E will join the parade with his cat toy stick, but there is no stopping, no cheating when holding Sparky, and no substitutions. And the parade can go on and on and on.
And of course my absolute favorite thing that E does lately: anytime he hurts himself, Tom and I always offer hugs and kisses and comfort. Who wouldn’t? But E has started to “fake” getting hurt and then come run over for hugs. It’s hilarious. It started with him going into the hall and banging his head against the wall, and then running to me for a hug. And then I’d put him down and he’d run over and bang his head again and come back for another hug. As Tom and I laughed each time, but I continued to dole out hugs.
The other day, he decided the wall was too far to run to, so he’d go to the bookcase and touch it with his hand, and then run over to me with that same fake “oh I hurt myself!” look and ask for a hug. So I’d go “OH NO! Did your finger touch the bookshelf!? Do you need a hug!?” and scoop him up and give him a squeeze. I’d put him down and he’d run back to the bookshelf and do it again. Kid, I will play that game with you forever.
