“Daddy, you have to help me – I can’t reach the little mermaid!”
Ella said that to me the other day. Contained in that sentence is everything that is wonderful about having a two-year-old. First and foremost, she’s talking – sentences of that complexity are rare, but they do happen from time to time. We can have actual conversations. Surreal conversations, to be sure, in which frequently some key element is unknown to me because I have no idea what word she is trying to say. But we talk about stuff, which is pretty incredible in and of itself. One of the other cool things about the above sentence is that I’m pretty sure a complete stranger would have understood it. Ella’s words actually have _syllables_ now. Suanna particularly likes it when she says library: “LIE-bwaya-wee.” I’m a total fan of being called “daddy” instead of “da” these days. She says with two fully stressed, fully distinct syllables: “Da Deee.”
And then there’s the other part of that sentence: the fact that she actually _was_ able to reach the little mermaid, which was perched on top of a tower she had built out of Lego-like blocks. The tower was on top of something she had just built and called a “house.” The mermaid was no higher than her chest, but it was on the top of a _tower_, you see – she was fully imagining the space she had constructed, where, of course, she _wouldn’t_ be able to reach.
This is all run-of-the-mill developmental stuff, I know. But when you see it happening to your own kid it blows your socks off, every time.
Ella is at that stage where people who haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks say she looks totally different from the last time they saw her. Older, taller, more hair. I’m heinously overdue for posting pictures, which I’ll let speak for themselves. For me, the cool thing is getting little glimpses into what she’ll look like as an older girl, or even an adult. You can see that now where you couldn’t before.
Naptime is now officially once a day, though the timeframe for the nap is still pretty variable. The odd pattern that has asserted itself over the past several days is: 1) fall asleep in the car at some point during morning errands, which leads to 2) a nap from around 2ish-4ish. She could probably take the nap at around the time she was falling asleep in the car, and then wouldn’t take it later. I am a fan of the new nap regime, even though it results in a little less naptime overall – it’s a bigger chunk of time that I can do more with.
Ella’s favorite game right now is to play “zoo.” The zoo is located in the vicinity of her toy box, on top of which perch all her stuffed animals. “Home,” by contrast, is at the other end of the room. The ultimate objective of “zoo” is to have me “play mouse,” “play cat,” “play rhino,” or otherwise take on the role of one of the animals and have it engage in Antics. To amuse myself through all of this I have been giving each of the animals distinctive behaviors and personalities; Ella remains frustrated that the cat and the lion are able to speak, but the dog only barks and licks things.
Ella has taken to expressing displeasure in the form of “I don’t like X.” Things she does not like have included, just in the past couple of days: supper, the laptop, snappy peas, apples, wearing clothes, and naps. “I don’t like X” is followed by “I want X” frequently enough that we know not to take it very seriously most of the time.
Her latest obsession is Blue’s Clues, which we watch on DVDs from the library. The show features “clues” in the form of pawprints left by Blue, the dog, whose master (Joe or Steve, depending on the era of the episode) dutifully jots down in his Notebook. So Ella is now constantly singing fragments of songs from the show, seeing clues/pawprints everywhere, and hauling a notebook around the apartment. Her first “notebook” was a crusty old hardcover of Herodotus that she yanked off the shelf. We have since picked her up an actual notebook, which she likes to scribble in, though today the real notebook lost out to a Tolkien paperback.
Here’s another sentence, and the reason why I must cut this short: “Da Dee. NO laptop. Get up. I want to go to the bookstore!” The Strewing of the Goldfish comes next, I know. So I guess there’s one part of her being two I could do without.