My Sweet Little Boy

Eliot is two. I really like this stage. Sure there is the mischief and defiance that two year olds will forever be stigmatized with, but there is so much good that comes from that age, too. We've been through the two-year old stage 3 times already, but I always tend to forget what happens at which stage until it happens again... Eliot's rapid development of conversational skills has astounded and amused me. I just adore hearing him talk... similar to the fascination some people have with hearing the accent of a Scottish or British person.

I like the way he helps himself to a snack from the pantry (I know I shouldn't. I know it drives Amy crazy, but it's just so cute.) To his credit, he does ask sometimes... Well, maybe it's not exactly asking... He'll walk up to me with a box of crackers and tilt his head and shrug and say, "I'm gonna have a snack, OK?" He got into an almost empty box of teddy grahams today after church. Marlow discovered his find and demanded that he share. So he gave her one. This sent her crying to me. I said, "Eliot, can you give her five?" He complied and counted 5 out. And I thought "Wait a minute... He knows how to count to 5!?" I didn't even think about it when I asked him, but then it took me by surprise to hear him count them.

Back when his vocabulary was not so advanced (like a couple of weeks ago), as I gave him a final goodnight kiss after singing him some bedtime songs, he said something. I couldn't make it out, so asked him to repeat.... "wi do dar do"... "wi do dar do"... I kept trying to guess and was obviously not getting it. Finally I tried repeating the sound back to him exactly as I heard it. "Wi do dar do?" He brightened up. "Yes!" He was so excited... and then I had to burst his bubble and confess that I still did not know what that was. I was just about to turn around and walk out when it struck me and I let out an "Oh!" that startled the poor boy and made him jump. He was saying "Little star, too." He was asking me to sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, too.

When I say goodnight to him, there is this whole crazy ritual that has evolved. This would include such things as the simulation of bed bugs attacking his neck after saying "Night night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite." (These bed bugs, of course, tickle.) And then me saying "Good night, my sweet little boy" and him sincerely echoing back, "Good night, my sweet daddy."