21 Months
Twenty one months is basically just like twenty and nineteen, with a little more of everything -- more sweetness, more talking, more demanding, more silliness, more bossy, more like a real boy.
At various points today I heard both "Mommy do/get it" and "Henry do it"; "I love YOU" and "Mommy go away"; and "no more eat" and "DEEEElicious" (all many times each). The best exchange this month was when he took a giant bite out of his silicon placemat, then told Elaine "fix it," and when she said she couldn't fix it, he told her "get a new one." She was cracking up about it when she recounted this conversation. And if our adult dinner conversation goes on too long, he now tells us, "No talking. Talk a Henry."
He is learning to do things for himself, which will come in handy once we have another baby to take care of. Though his first response is often to command us to do something, if we instruct him on what to do, he can often accomplish it himself. This week he started taking raisins out of the container and putting them in his snack cup. He mostly just needs help getting the rubber lid back on.
He loves to test us when we tell him not to do something. Sometimes he's really worked up and clearly can't control his little self, but sometimes it's obvious that he's trying to figure out whether or not he can really get away with something and to what degree. It's a fine line between a hit and a pat, and between gouging a hole in the dining room table with his fork and tapping the fork on his placemat. Every day we go through the dance of telling him not to hit Izzy, then he whacks a little softer and looks at us expectantly, and we tell him not to hit Izzy, and he thumps a little softer, and we tell him not to hit Izzy, and he ratchets it down until we confirm that it was a nice pat. It's a good thing we have a patient dog and sturdy furniture.
Today also marks the end of an era: it was our last day as a family of three. Karl's parents arrived this evening and we have someone staying with us until baby sister arrives. It worked out well that Elaine was off yesterday and today, so we each got to spend a little one-on-one time with Henry before we transition from "our baby boy" to "the kids." It's hard to imagine that very soon Henry will not be the sole center of gravity in our family universe. I am excited to welcome baby sister but can't help feeling sentimental and wistful about the end of our time alone with Henry. When he wants to read book after book and cuddle endlessly at bedtime I can't help but indulge him, thinking that I won't be able to linger with him once there's another baby crying for attention. Of course, I distinctly recall feeling the same way about ending our time as a twosome before he was born and now I can't get enough of the little guy.
At various points today I heard both "Mommy do/get it" and "Henry do it"; "I love YOU" and "Mommy go away"; and "no more eat" and "DEEEElicious" (all many times each). The best exchange this month was when he took a giant bite out of his silicon placemat, then told Elaine "fix it," and when she said she couldn't fix it, he told her "get a new one." She was cracking up about it when she recounted this conversation. And if our adult dinner conversation goes on too long, he now tells us, "No talking. Talk a Henry."
He is learning to do things for himself, which will come in handy once we have another baby to take care of. Though his first response is often to command us to do something, if we instruct him on what to do, he can often accomplish it himself. This week he started taking raisins out of the container and putting them in his snack cup. He mostly just needs help getting the rubber lid back on.
He loves to test us when we tell him not to do something. Sometimes he's really worked up and clearly can't control his little self, but sometimes it's obvious that he's trying to figure out whether or not he can really get away with something and to what degree. It's a fine line between a hit and a pat, and between gouging a hole in the dining room table with his fork and tapping the fork on his placemat. Every day we go through the dance of telling him not to hit Izzy, then he whacks a little softer and looks at us expectantly, and we tell him not to hit Izzy, and he thumps a little softer, and we tell him not to hit Izzy, and he ratchets it down until we confirm that it was a nice pat. It's a good thing we have a patient dog and sturdy furniture.
Today also marks the end of an era: it was our last day as a family of three. Karl's parents arrived this evening and we have someone staying with us until baby sister arrives. It worked out well that Elaine was off yesterday and today, so we each got to spend a little one-on-one time with Henry before we transition from "our baby boy" to "the kids." It's hard to imagine that very soon Henry will not be the sole center of gravity in our family universe. I am excited to welcome baby sister but can't help feeling sentimental and wistful about the end of our time alone with Henry. When he wants to read book after book and cuddle endlessly at bedtime I can't help but indulge him, thinking that I won't be able to linger with him once there's another baby crying for attention. Of course, I distinctly recall feeling the same way about ending our time as a twosome before he was born and now I can't get enough of the little guy.
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