Our baby… Our littlest baby… is officially fifteen months old today.
He has thirteen teeth. He can say MAMA and DAD-DAD and BUBBIE (which is what he calls the boy). He can say KITTY and BALL and CHEESE and SNACK. He says HOT and HAT and UH OH. He can say JESUS and MAM and PA and GRAMMY and PAPA. He can say SHOES and POOP and BUBBLES and COOKIE and ICE and ON. He can say OATMEAL and COFFEE and HELLO and HI. He can say Little Cousin H’s name and Sister’s name and Cousin R’s name.
And that’s about all the English words he says. The rest of the time, he speaks in his native language of SPACE ALIEN. Sadly, no one here can interpret that language, so a lot of his theories and opinions are lost on an incompetent world.
Thing 2 can dance better than Channing Tatum. He can splash in the tub, run, climb on everything and anything, and use sign language for PLEASE and MILK and THANK-YOU and MORE. He gives kisses and hugs, and he knows which is which. He sleeps from 7:30 pm to 6:00 am, and he thinks he’s a twelve-year-old who really doesn’t need to take a nap during the day. He loves the boy with a love that I’ve never witnessed between two brothers before. Thing 2 ADORES the boy.
Completely adores him.
They are, in fact, the very best of friends, because the boy is wild-crazy over his baby brother, too.
The two of them wrestle and throw balls together. They use the golf clubs together and run and tumble across the lawn together. They share coffee drinks and cookies and ice cream together. Not long ago, I caught the boy and Thing 2 snuggling in a big hug, and I overheard the boy whisper, “I love you so much! You are the best brother there is!”
And that melted my heart.
Because my boys are pretty much the very sweetest people I know.
Unless I’ve just told Thing 2 that he cannot climb on the coffee table and dance up there, because every single time he does, he falls off and cries. If Thing 2 is denied this dancing platform, he usually screams and stomps his feet and throws his head back, before he flops on the floor in a fit performance that every two-year-old on the planet would be envious of.
But… for the most part… it’s all sweetness.
This morning, we met my friend Bethany, and her kiddos at the park. Her son, Ben, is a year older than Thing 2, and they have become good buddies who bond over shared pretzels and dump trucks and Matchbox cars.
This morning, they shared a Man Hug, which is absolutely fine to do when you’re one and two years old.
The boys had fun at the park, pushing cars and sliding and running and rolling in the grass.
And then there was the fountain, which mesmerized both of them.
Yes, the sign says, PLEASE DO NOT PLAY ON THE FOUNTAIN. Thing 2 and Ben can’t read. That sign could just as easily have said, WE HAVE FREE PUPPIES TO GIVE OUT TO ALL LITTLE CHILDREN, and they wouldn’t have known.
(I don’t even worry about it any longer.)
(His 7th grade science fair project can be on WHAT KIND OF YUCK GROWS ON YOUR SWEATSHIRT WHEN YOU WEAR IT EVERY SINGLE DAY AND REFUSE TO LET YOUR MAMA WASH IT?)
(I smell a blue ribbon coming on for that one.)
Y’all have a happy Wednesday evening.