Happy (Belated) 2nd Birthday, J.Q.
"Take Your Child to Work Day" needs to be immediately followed by "Take a Nice Slug of Scotch and a Protracted Nap Day".
He's in love with language; his demands, cajolings and jokes are all made in five- and six-word sentences. The way in which he describes his world is heart-crushingly cute... a flashlight is a "make-sun". Dandelion heads are "bubbles" (because they're round and you blow on them). He is a master of metonymy; he requests sips of soda with a plaintive, "J.Q. dwink it gwown-ups peeeeeeeeease!" This is due to my incessant refrain of, "No, baby... Diet Coke is for grown-ups." However, it sounds wonderfully vampiric; the next time he busts out "dwink it gwown-ups" in public, I may respond with a sinister, "Yessss... drink it, my pretty... DRINK IT DRY!"
He's in love with language; his demands, cajolings and jokes are all made in five- and six-word sentences. The way in which he describes his world is heart-crushingly cute... a flashlight is a "make-sun". Dandelion heads are "bubbles" (because they're round and you blow on them). He is a master of metonymy; he requests sips of soda with a plaintive, "J.Q. dwink it gwown-ups peeeeeeeeease!" This is due to my incessant refrain of, "No, baby... Diet Coke is for grown-ups." However, it sounds wonderfully vampiric; the next time he busts out "dwink it gwown-ups" in public, I may respond with a sinister, "Yessss... drink it, my pretty... DRINK IT DRY!"
He's the most adaptable kid I've ever met. He went from a conventional nuclear family to a 50-50 joint custody arrangement and didn't bat an eye. He doesn't cry while being handed off... he's too busy lurching towards his other parent, grinning and yelling, "Hug! Hug! Huuuuuug!"
His eyes are brown AND blue.
He's had his share of Category-5 meltdowns, but it's clear even as he's rending his tractor-printed vestements that he doesn't want to be tantruming. He's readily distractable; "J.Q. HOLD IT SCISSORS J.Q. HOLD IT SCISSORS J.Q. HOLD IT SCISSORS J.Q. HOLD IT SCISSORS WAAAAAAH!" can be nipped in the bud by a can of squishy Play-Doh goodness or an acapella rendition of "Dazed and Confused".
He's recently developed a pretty intense case of stranger anxiety. While I feel for him, I also secretly enjoy how he darts behind my leg and clutches my hand. Wide-eyed, overall-clad and cowlicked, he looks like a 50's kid... I'm tempted to rename him Opie.
"J.Q. share it!" = "Give it to J.Q. RIGHT NOW, YOU HORRID BITCH!"
He troubleshoots. He can sit down with a toy for 45 minutes, taking it apart, putting it back together, rearranging it, making it 37% lighter and undetectable to commercial radar.
He loves crayons, but doesn't actually color. He methodically peels the wrappers off of each stick (occasionally thrusting one towards me and saying, "Start it, mama!")... then snaps them into the tiniest possible pieces. He am become J.Q., destroyer of Binney & Smith.
Two principles keep us happy:
1. Do as few things as possible which necessitate arriving somewhere on time, and
2. Do as few things as possible which must be completed in a fixed time span.
The everyday world is a source of immense wonder and joy. I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible. He can dye his hair fuschia, he can go on the road with a kazoo-based Primus tribute band, he can come home in a patrol car after spray-painting "COACH MURPHY IS A DOOSHBAG!" on the side of the gym... but please, please, please, don't ever let that little electric glimmer in his eyes fade away.
He's learning proper names. He calls me "Joo-la." Very Star Trek. Joo-la, who has a third hand protruding from the base of her spine, clutching a baby wipe and nagging via telepathy... "COME TO YOUR PROGENITOR AND ALLOW HER TO CLEANSE YOUR COPIOUS NASAL DISCHARGE AT ONCE, YOUNG ONE! IT HAS BEEN ORDAINED!"
You love a one year-old for what they are. You love a two-year old for WHO they are.
I love you, kid.
Labels: J.Q. the Sna-que, The Compleat Thumbscrew
posted by thumbscre.ws at
5/18/2007
10 Comments:
That's awesome. And he's absolutely adorable. Just wait till he turns 3, though. Then all holy hell will break loose.
Yeah, take your child to work sucks almost as bad as stay at home with your sick child, while sick as a dog yourself...which I am doing today with the just-recently-turned-3 Boog. *sigh* *sniff* *snort* *cough*
Give him a hug from me, since I clearly don't need to do it myself, in my condition. ;~)
What a ravishing boy, and a ravishing post about same. I especially love those verbal mash-ups...
a flashlight is a "make-sun."
Charlie doesn't understand yet why I refer to him as Koko every time he comes up with something like the above.
Beautiful eyes. And you are so funny .
Someone told me I would love my child even more as she got older and I simply couldn't believe that. But it happens, or seems to.
And my three year old? Love her more. IT DOESN'T GET WORSE NO MATTER WHAT ANYONE SAYS. (I say having one whole extra year on you although I am way ancient in human years.) When he is not around, you will crave your child like sugar or crack or online poker when he is three.
Also crossing my fingers about the electric glimmer never fading.
Oh yes, be sure to do it The Voice, "my pretty..." That should freak them out.
Great post. And I think your one-year-old/two-year-old aphrorism is right on. The older my little boy gets, the more he becomes him and the more I love him for it (even though "him" can sometimes be quite a willfull whirlwind).
Also, as the child of parents who divorced while I was in diapers, I will chime in and say you and your ex have probably done right by J.Q. in splitting at the point you have. I emerged from my "broken home" with very few divorce-related scars, unlike most of my friends w/ divorced parents. (And when I was in college some psych major friend told me that some study showed that the younger kids are when their parents split, the less traumatic it is for them. Never read the study, but I believe it.)
We love your kid.
You're not too shabby either.
Mimmema, Momoma and Wakeen and the guy that lives with them.
Beautifully written for a beautiful boy.
a lovely post... you are lucky to have each other.
Oh my GAWD, he is so adorable!!! The 2s are really not so terrible are they? I heard 3 is a real beyotch though.
I give you credit, I would never take my son to work because being with him is like being on constant suicide watch as it is and there are so many things here that he would demand to touch, pour water on, and get into. That and when I say "NO RUNNING!" he apparently hears "RUN! RUN LIKE THE WIND!!!"
I've stopped yelling, "NO RUNNING" with J.Q., meredith--my yelling just spurs him on to olympic greatness. I try to run ahead of him so he doesn't tumble into something hard or thorny at the inevitable fall. He has a watering can, so he can run full tilt at the shrubbery now..."Waller it howwy bush! Waller it fwowers! Give it waller doggies!"
Three was actually great with all of my babies. They're more verbal and less set on self-destruction, and the fantasy games and role-playing are really delightful at three. I had all girls, though. Maybe J.Q. will be more into jumping off the shed roof or disassembling everything in his path with Grandpop's tools.
Six was a different story, however. At six, they know everything and don't need anyone telling them otherwise. Fortunately, they are in school full time, so we aren't as likely to lock them away in closets and shove crackers underneath the doors by way of meals.
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