Memories.

August 2003.

My just-turned-two year old seems to know which button is "play" on the tv/vcr remote. Five-year-old and I just walked downstairs and found Two watching an Elmo tape. The VCR itself is wall-mounted, up very high, and he didn't touch it. That leaves the remote, which is still in its place beside the TV, on the table. If there was already an Elmo tape in the VCR, then he could easily have just pressed "play" to get his Elmo. He's absolutely tickled.

I'm rather proud.

I'm happy that mine have things they love so much, that make them happy. Two's blankee doesn't travel with him. It stays in the house so it doesn't get lost or forgotten. It's not a pain in the ass at all that he likes it so much. Five's blankee is something he only wants once in a while, but he was just as attached to it as a baby. Hell, Fifteen still slept with his until the dog chewed it up (but in his case it was a white twin sized blanket and didn't look or feel childish). Why do people want children to give up comfort objects? Don't they usually give them up eventually on their own?

Recent conversation with Five:

-Me (reading book to Five): "...and a starfish star"

-Five: "Dey said 'star' twice. Dey didn't need to do dat. That's we-dundat."

That's redundant? Hee!

Five is indeed a riot. He's the kind of kid that my husband's friends call over to have a little conversation with, just to see what he will say next. And he is so small and slight that it only adds to the Cute when he uses such a huge vocabulary. His teacher summed him up very well. "He's so small. Then he speaks."

While looking at a picture book of skeletons, including many of prehistoric humans: "Dis one's wost his mandible." Indeed the poor skeleton had lost his mandible.

Five says "mooshmash" for "moustache" and although I normally am happier when they pronounce words more correctly, that one is so charming that it's fallen into our household vocabulary.