In a few weeks, Minor will have attained his third birthday, and all in all he has turned out much differently than I expected. He was such an irritable, crabby, sensitive baby, so slow to develop — neither crawling nor walking by 15 months! my back still aches — I was sure he would be an angry, frustrated toddler. But he’s actually a pretty happy kid — not easy-going, by any stretch, but jolly.
Some Minor-isms:
He looks very physically clumsy, especially when he runs, wobbling like a newly-disembarked sailor after a year-long cruise. When his brother speeds around the playground, he frequently gives himself a time out on the bench. But actually he’s fairly well coordinated. He can climb and swim and ride a two-wheeler with training wheels.
He is a really keen learner. If you try to show him something (a better way to pronounce his Gs, a more efficient swim stroke, a strategy for a game of concentration) he watches carefully and tries to imitate you. When he makes a mistake, he laughs and tries again.
He will laugh at anything. He has rages like any toddler, but you can always get around them by tickling him or making a funny face. He also likes jokes. He’s recently learned a new one: He gives me a tap on the arm, as if by accident. “Does that hurt, Mommy?” “No,” I’ll answer. Then I’ll feel another tap, more insistent. “Does that hurt?” “Not really…” WHACK. “Does that hurt?” “OW, WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT?” I think he came up with it on his own, though.
His favorite word is “stupid.” “How was school?” “Stupid.” “With whom did you play today?” “No one. They’re all stupid.” “What are you doing out on the porch?” “The house is stupid.” The phrase “stupid underwear” cracks him up.
Stupid friends aside, he is very comfortable socially, yet has no need to be the center of attention, like some other child I know. He loves nothing better than to be in a huge crowd of kids.
He has this little Frankenvoice that just kills me. Other than /t/ and /d/ for /k/ and /g/, he doesn’t really have a speech impediment, and he talks in complete and grammatically perfect sentences, but his voice is to my ear like what LOLcats would sound like if they could talk.
Whenever Husband and I playfully anthropomorphize the dog, e.g., “Should we let Dog drive? Is Dog going to get any Christmas presents?” Minor responds with a theatrical shrug and says, “But Dog has no hands!” in his little Frankenvoice.
He toilet-trained himself in a few days, and then a few days after that decided that he was not ready to forego the benefits of diapers, at least for pooping. He was in so much distress that we gave in, and now when he feels the urge coming on he strips off all his clothes except for his diaper and runs off under the stairs to do his business.
I don’t know why he feels like he has to take off his shirt or his socks to poop. I wonder if this habit will persist into adulthood; I’m afraid he will end up one of those weird stage-fright people who has all kinds of special rules for where and when he will go number two. Then again, he’s become a completely different person in the last two years, so by the time he’s fully grown Lord knows who he’ll be.