[sic]

Ever notice a quote in a newspaper article or other written source that has an obvious typo or grammatical gaffe followed by [sic]?  That part in brackets means "thus was it written", basically owning that the writer knows that the something's amok in the quote with spelling, syntax, or whatever, but that's how it was originally stated.

Ergo...

• The Kindergartner in the family greatly enjoyed his snack from [the lucky pot] (otherwise known as "potluck") one day this week. 
• The Second Grader was eager to tell his dad that the lad had been allowed to bring home the  classroom 2013 [alamanack] to peruse at his leisure. 

I'd add these to [stoo-dul] in our family dictionary of toddlerisms, were it not for the fact that the lads who utter such endearing blunders are hardly toddlers anymore.  Apparently, a new chapter is in order.

iMommy

The 19-month-old younger lass is better able to express herself verbally every day.  This is a great relief on many levels since we like to know what she's thinking and appreciate when she's able to convey those thoughts in her "inside voice."

Although we have used a few signs with her as she's been acquiring a command of the language to bridge the gap between her knowing what she wants but not being able to express it verbally, she really hasn't employed too many of them herself.  Instead she uses the "i" trend to her own advantage:

"I pack pack."
translation: "I want a backpack like my brothers and sister."  Or more accurately, "I want any one of *their* backpacks."

"I yogurt."
translation: "Fetch me my Foogo."

"I pan-pake."
translation: "I would like a pancake, please."

"I daw-bewy."
translation: "Strawberries are my favorite.  Please give me more -- *lots* more."

"I dirt."
translation: "Let me in on the Mud Season action!"

To her credit, she is *very* polite.  She does parrot back "pease" when prompted to say please, and she is quick to say "thank you" without prompting, even if her emotions are running high.  Somehow, that casts the demands requests in an "aww -- isn't she so cute?" kind of light.

As this trend has evolved, my beloved and I have joked about the next step in the sequence.  He'll be "iDaddy," and I'll be "iMommy" ...

out of reach

For good reason, this cheeky wooden stool looks like it's been around for a while.

It has. It's mine from childhood.

As a toddler, the now six-and-a-half-year-old elder lad would say "stoo-dul" rather than "stool". The word has become part of the family lexicon.

I think of this red stool every time I hear one of Aunt Robin's sturdy (if a little worse for wear, not unlike my stool) wooden kitchen chairs being dragged across our tile kitchen floor up to a countertop for some baking project or find one of our own bathroom stools (which are utterly devoid of sassy phrases) some strange place in the house, knowing it has likely been employed for some clandestine purpose not unlike the ones I may or may not have attempted with the aid of my little red "stoo-dul"...

a little light reading

Some of the accompaniments to the lass's recent requests to "read, Mommy!"

simile

Demonstrating an early understanding of the literary device known as "simile", the younger lad had this to say of me shoveling in some salad at lunch: "You're like a front end loader."

Is this a compliment?  Coming from him, probably so. 
(but at least I got to finish my lunch!)

keep me

When I was a little girl, my massively tall grandpa (the one married to my diminutive grandmother) would often tease me by saying "what am I going to do with you?!"

"Keep me!" I'd always answer.

So now, of course, I've made this my own.  And tonight, the younger lad turned the tables on me:
"Know what I'm going to do, Mama?"
"What?" (I truly had no idea what to guess.)

"Guess!"
"What?"  I asked again.

"I'm going to keep you!" he gleefully declared.
"Thank you.  Please do."

new species discovered

This just in: word of a rare species of blue tiger, aptly-named "Inga Binga."  According to the three-year-old zoologist credited with the discovery, the name is "easy to say:  INGA.  BINGA.  Yes. That's how it goes."   This newly-identified species is not to be confused with the inga binga monkey.  "It's green," he says.

a slight exaggeration (maybe)

My elder lad seems to be developing a penchant for hyperbole, a favorite literary device of mine: "this cookie is like 10 weeks old.  I'm going to throw it out."  (it *might* have been three days old, but quibbling over such details can be an exercise in futility)   He also thought the pasta that spilled all over the pantry floor in the course of a game of "store" was "something like 10 weeks old" and likewise needed to go. 

For him, it's "10 weeks".  For me, it's the number 45   As in, "I find myself with an unexpected, unspoken-for parcel of time of unknown length.  I can think of 45 things that need to get done in that time, but don't know where to start.  Maybe some chocolate will help me decide."   

personality plus

These past days have been difficult while I've been ailing with this wretched sinus infection, but enough about that.  Let's talk instead about this charming 15-month-old lass of mine full of expression and personality emerging more every day. She's a cutie alright, with a look and style all her own.

She has a charming way of smiling that's partly coy, partly shy.  She kinda tucks her chin down and peers up at the recipient of her smile as she's smiling.  Spontaneous games of peek-a-boo and "where's your tummy/nose/knee?" quickly produce these sweet smiles.  Quite the girly girl, she likes her bows (and says "bow" to indicate such) and purses (actually, she likes mine the most), but she's equally at home playing with trucks, Lincoln Logs, and Legos.

Already knowing full well what she wants to tell us, she says distinctly "bubba," "cookie," "gogur" (for yogurt -- she prefers drinking from her brother's insulated Foogo straw cup), "biper" (for diaper), "dada", and "mommy".  Especially when it comes to food, she has little patience -- and a vast appetite.  When her plate runneth empty, she signs "more".  Requests escalate into demands if not met quickly.

At mealtime, she holds her hands together for grace, then claps and smiles at its conclusion.

Every time we visit the park, she wants to swing.  "Sing!"  she declares.  She's been saying her auntie's name and those of her grandparents whenever the phone rings, as though she wonders if it's one of them calling us.  When her daddy gets home at the end of the day or she sees someone else she loves, she often gives a happy "hiiiiiiii!"  And she is particularly attached to her Corolle baby doll -- though she has a few others and dotes on them as well; her face lights up when she sees "Baby".  It (she?) is her constant companion.

Speaking of cookies, I only recently let her have some of the chocolate chips in the cookies we make with chickpeas and oatmeal.  Up until then, I would just break off pieces around the chips and give the cookie part to her.  At her first taste with chocolate, a look crossed her face, the meaning behind it unmistakable: "you've been holding out on me." 

More than a few times now I've found the lass up on the sofa or a chair by her own accomplishment.  She's a determined girl.  And she's got those brothers working for her...

toddlerisms: the best kind of vocabulary lesson

younger lad: "I'm a chip-a-nee-ma."

me: "What's that?"
he: "It's a kind of chickpea."

me: "What do you use it for?"
he: "For chook chooks."

me: "What are those?"
he: "A kind of cookie."

well, of course.

bedtime prayers

At the end of a day filled with such delights as a trip to Lowe's with his daddy in "the big truck" and an afternoon spent planting veggies in the garden, the younger lad snuggled up with me for bedtime prayers.  "Mama, I want you to pray with me."

me: "OK.  For whom should we pray?"

him: "You, Mama."

the end of an era

Making homemade pizza tonight, I query the bambini as to their topping preferences.

Elder lad: cheese (of which he ate none once it was baked -- he put the olive oil, spices, and toppings on but wouldn't eat the finished product)

Younger lad: "pepperoni." 

"What?"  I had to ask.  I was expecting to hear "penny-no-nee", but instead he said "pepperoni."

*sniff* the end of an era...