Ben turned 2.5 yesterday; his daycare teachers remarked on his profusion of words and stories after a two-week hiatus.
They were spoken with greater urgency and speed than usual; after all, there is a fox in Grammie’s woods; Pumpkin the Cat and Tiger the cat and Winslow are running away, through holes in the doors; George and the man in the yellow hat are now living in the city, maybe Ben’s city; big hot pizzas are cooking in fiery ovens, and everywhere there are trains, some fast and some very fast, and mi – fah-leet. (That’s mama’s phonetic spelling of “very dangerous” in danish).
His personhood is becoming more and more evident – pro-dancing, pro-cookies, pro-monkeys, pro-singing, pro-animals, and anti-toothbrushing.
He held up better than anyone could reasonably expect, given the wear and tear of air travel and Christmas frenzy. Henrik described the open house at my aunt’s house on Christmas eve as a sort of “Crazy Aunt room” where “they’re all dressed like ornaments.” (Big words from someone who had all of his outfits coordinated in advance by a former model, including the freaking socks. And yet, absolutely true.)
It’s amazing how much he takes in, and what he lets us know he sees.