chocolate bunnies

Easter was a big hit, as you can imagine. On Easter Sunday alone he ate more candy than he'd had his entire life combined. Although his chocolate bunny is now long gone, he continues to talk about his "easter bassthet" and point to the cabinet where it was stored, hoping that more chocolate and candy will magically appear there. This afternoon, he found a chocolate chip on the floor, evidently dropped during my naptime pantry raid. He picked it up and examined it, then looked up at me with pure joy on his face and exclaimed, "Little bunny!"

you, myself, and I

Smart he may be, but our son has not yet mastered one key component of toddlerdom: Me. As in "me! me! me!" and "me do!" Oh, we hear it, never fear -- just not like you'd expect. What the outside observer might hear makes our son sound so nice and pleasant and un-Two as to make them wonder what our secret is. It's time we let our secret out: Pronoun confusion.

Where most toddlers say "me", Gavin says "you." So on a bazillion-times-daily basis, cries of "you! you! no, you!" ring through our hallowed halls. Phrases such as "you cup," "you stir," and "you watch" are common too.

For a time, it was fairly straightforward. He was you and we were me. So if he said "you shoe," we knew he meant his own shoe. And if he said "no, me do" we knew he meant he wanted us to do something, although I must admit we have not heard this particular piece of phraseology often.

But now it grows murky, because selectively "you" means me or Jason. And "me" can now mean Gavin. Sometimes. And very often, Gavin misunderstands what we say, thinking that when we say "you," we mean ourselves and not him. So conversations often sound like this.

"No! NO!!!! Me!"

"What, I am doing it!"

"No! You!"

"OK, fine, you do it. Here."

"No! You!"

"Right, you do it."

"Nooooooooo!"

Big sigh. "Fine, GAVIN do it."

"yes!"

No wonder I've found three new grey hairs in the last week alone.

But it does lend to some amusing moments. One particular phrase that Gavin has picked up in recent weeks is "at you," which means something or someone is looking at him. So he'll look at his lego man or a stuffed bunny and say "at you," worriedly -- he decidedly doesn't like things looking at him. Or he'll exclaim, "Big boy at you!" if a big boy from down the street happens to look at him while we're playing outside. Yesterday Jason and Gavin were looking at a picture of Gavin as a baby that's hanging on the wall. Gavin loooked at it for a moment and then said, "You at you."

Two Years Ago Today

Two years ago today, this precious bundle entered out lives. I was in awe of him then, and I continue to be in awe of him today. What a gift he's been, in so very, very many ways.

For more pictures of his birthday today, head on over to .

this is the woodpecker

Because I'm so amused by this, and because Gavin has continued to call the light on the tree a woodpecker, here is a picture. Come on, laugh with me. Silly boy!

By the way, two years ago right now I was in labor. Contractions were beginning to get pretty darn intense. We were still pretty sure we would have a 04/04/04 baby.

scared

"Uh-oh! Noise!" Gavin exclaimed.

"You hear that tapping sound? It's a woodpecker," I said, looking up at the trees.

"Pecker," he repeated, looking up.

"Woodpeckers are birds. They live in trees."

"Pecker." He looked worriedly at the trees, then slowly inched behind me, holding onto my leg as he has taken to doing when afraid of something. Then, pointing at a tree, he said, "Scared."

"You're scared? What are you afraid of?"

"Pecker."

I picked him up. He was eyeing the trees in the backyard warily. I followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at the motion-sensor light mounted on one of the trees at the very back of the yard. I pointed to it and asked, "Is that what you're seeing? That shiny thing?"

"Uh-huh."

I started walking back toward it, explaining that it was a light. "It's like a lamp. It has a lightbulb. It's not a woodpecker."

Gavin remained unconvinced. We stood there, examining the light, talking about the it and how it's different from a bird. The woodpecker flew back and landed where we could watch it. It didn't tap on the tree, but we talked about it, and after awhile, Gavin began telling me about the light.

"Light. Lightbulb." Then, pointing to the bird, "Bird."

I knew I had successfully allayed yet another bizarre toddler fear. For now, anyway.