For some reason, I am completely un-motivated to do a two year-old post for Tater. There's so much happening in his world that it's a bit overwhelming to try to put it all in a blog post. Let's have some random statements, instead.
He's everyone's darling.
He says everything.
He copies everyone.
He asks "right, Mommy?" after a statement. He learned to do this from Cutie.
He digs into our top bathroom vanity drawer every single morning (and some afternoons when New Daddy works from home), grabs New Daddy's old and new shavers, takes them to New Daddy, and they shave together. This morning, he instantly stopped nursing and ran to the bathroom when he heard the shaving motor. New Daddy was not allowed to shave without his sidekick. New Daddy threatened to buy a video camera to mount on the bathroom mirror so that he could record all of their shaving sessions.
He opens New Daddy's guitar case so that New Daddy will play for him ("Daddy! Du-tar!"). He loves holding thumb picks.
Tater dances to the shopping cart when it has a rhythmic bump in its wheels. (Remember when Precious used to dance to my yogurt-stirring spoon when it hit the cup?)
When he runs, he tucks his left hand into his side and "swings" it, like he's shuffling a football. His right arm doesn't do this; it is mostly still.
Tater loves things on wheels. Right now, he's rarely without his matchbox-sized John Deere tractor ("MY truck."). He also enjoys "fixing" things and using New Daddy's tools alongside whatever task they're doing together.
He sings along when we memorize hymns together. Other times, he makes a microphone with his hand and wails soulfully-- and loudly.
He "talks" like an airplane as he "flies" his hand ("oooo!") and also growls like a dump truck. Marcel Ledbetter, who wished he was really a truck, would probably consider Tater a kindred spirit.
His favorite phrase right now is "Hey, Mama; how y'doin'?" Over and over. And, "More nuh" as he pulls on my shirt. Bet you know what that means! He doesn't want to give it up, and neither do I.
His names for his siblings are "Nay, Go," (that really is Bubby) and "Sissy."A description of Tater's relationships with each of his siblings might go something like this: Precious is his other mama. Bubby is his rough-and-tumble, constant entertainment. Cutie is his competition for mama, but his quiet-play buddy. All of them are allowed to carry him, and they all receive his kisses at bedtime, and also upon request.
Any name that he has decided upon for an object must remain. "Truck," as he points to our van.
"That's a van."
"Truck."
"Van."
"Truck." (starting to crack a smile)
"Van."
It's a game to him, but I think it might point to a certain brand of stubbornness aimed at amusing others.
I'm proud of myself for getting this down in black and white. I know years from now, Tater will enjoy reading this summary of his toddlerhood accomplishments. Happy birthday, sweetie!
(After I posted this, I realized that Tater is wearing the same shirt on his birthday that he wore on the boat to Cumberland Island. I must really like that shirt on him, hehe.)
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