And another thing

 Lately when you've been saying "Boob! Boob!" I will prompt you to say "please?" with both the word and the sign, and you started with signing but now you will say "Peez?" and it is pretty much the cutest thing I have ever seen in my entire life.

Update

Oh my gosh, Succotash, yesterday you didn't have a single accident. Holy guacamole. It's only been a week! And that's with both sets of grandparents here, and a hurricane (well, sort of), and also you have a raging sinus infection, poor baby, which is doing no favors for your sleep. 

I could not be more proud of how hard you are working. You are my determined little person. I am so proud and impressed with your ability to make your mind up about something and then drive yourself to do it. 

Right now I'm supposed to be writing a novel while you play at the beach with your dad and Manamana and Pop Pop (you have rechristened Manamapa and he's really taken to it), but I wanted to take time to note your success.

You can also count to three, and sometimes four.

You have also taken to saying, halfway through nursing, "other side," and then switching boobs.

Also "I helpful" when you put your blocks away.

Your pediatrician in Marblehead, who Daddy and I like to joke enjoys starting with the worst case scenario ("here's why it could be nose cancer") before working his way back to "he has a cold," asked you where your other ear was, and you said "Here" and pointed. Then he asked how many ears you had, and you said "two." He was pretty impressed.

"He's talking more," your dad informed him.

"I should say so!" said Dr. Shin. 

Changes

 It's been a rough tossing and turning couple of nights for Succotash, with lots of nursing and waking up saying "Mama!" and "Help!" and last night a couple of "noo noo!" Which make me worry that you have had bad dreams. Though in the morning all seems right with the world. Clearly a lot of language synapses are firing all at once, but then, maybe something else too.

This morning you climbed down from the bed where you were reading books with your dad while I went to the bathroom. You came over to the toilet enclosure and said "Potty. I sit." You started to sit on the floor and added "Poop."

"Would you like to sit on the toilet?" I asked. You nodded.

So we took off your jammies and your wet overnight diaper and put your potty seat on the toilet. Then we got comfortable and read "Where's the Elephant?" and asked dad to bring your favorite lift the flaps Easter book, and we spent a long time lifting flaps and saying "hop!" and "egg!" and "carrot!" 

You peed a little. Grinned, and said "pee!" We agreed this was amazing and then went back to our Easter book.

And then, lo and behold!

"Tinkle tinkle toot!" I said, which is what happens in one of your potty books, and which always made you crack up. Your whole face lit up. I told you I was proud of you, and then you reached back and flushed!

WHOA!

I sent you to school in a diaper, but with some training pants packed just in case. I'm curious how it's going at school today.

My big smart growing boy.

Also, for posterity, in case I didn't write it down yet, I will also note that the other day you were reading The Snowy Day, pointed at a traffic light, and said "Car. Stop."

I have told your Aunt J that in light of these two developments I am preparing your application materials for Stanford. 

Twenty Two Months

Almost 2! And feeling your toddler oats a bit. But last night you finished eating your dinner - with your own spoon - climbed down to look at your book, pointed at a picture of a traffic light, and said "Stop." We told you yes, that's right, and you said "Car. Stop."

Your dad has concluded you are a genius. And I think rightly so. 

I don't know how tall you are, but your uncle Eli remarks on it every time he comes over, and he comes over every week. You are well over three feet, but we won't learn how far over three feet until your 2 year old appointment.

You love "hops," which are bunny rabbits, and you have a couple of stuffed ones and also a ride-on that was sent to you by my old whinnie horse before he had to "move to a pasture." You like to put your feet on the front wheels and feel them roll along your soles. You also love to play car in the breakfast table (just like I did, and apparently just like Grandpa did). Actually you love to play car anywhere. Car! You love cars. 

You love Mr. Rogers still, and now ask to read the same Mr. Rogers book about making friends over and over and over again before you fall asleep. Last night you wanted to put your own pajama pants on, and only needed a little help. I was very proud of you. I'm also delighted that you have gotten good at saying "help" in addition to signing it. Your brain is clearly processing a lot of speech, as the past couple of nights you have actually talked in your sleep - not just "mama" but also "help" and "hop" and "sit."

We have three more weeks at Harborlight, which is staggering to me. We are rushing headlong into the future.

Yesterday we drove into Boston to see some friends in the Public Garden and you were enthralled by the tall buildings, pointing out the window, waving at the people in the street, saying "hi!" "Building!" "Tall!" You were interested in the park - "pool!" you said when you saw the duck pond - and you coveted the silly balloon hats people were selling. You and I shared some soft serve - you had chocolate, I had vanilla, and we went back and forth trading licks. Watching your wonder at a world outside of Marblehead made me feel a bit better about what lies in store when we go back to New York. I am afraid, but I find courage in seeing that you are unafraid of anything. 

My brave baby.