Miles is 20 1/2 months old. He is about 28 pounds, maybe a little more. He is talking in sentences, but sometimes his sentences are kind of wacky. He can imitate almost anything he hears… unless he already decided he knew how to say it before he really figured out how to say it properly, in which case we get things like “Gapes!”  and “Boop!”

The other day a friend came over with her son, who we’ll call Joseph, as she doesn’t generally identify him online by his real name. Joseph is about 5 months older than Miles. That makes him 2 years and a couple months. Joseph is not quite as verbose as Miles is around strangers, but has the word “Mine!” down pat.

Miles was fascinated. He said, “Joseph!” clear as  a bell a moment after the boy came into the room. They played, fought over a toy, shrieked at each other briefly and then settled down to play. His mother said, “Joe…” and Miles picked up on this. They were here for five minutes. Ever since it is “Joseph. Joe. Joseph. MY Joseph. Mine.” Those who know the child in question will be able to substitute his real name into this dialogue, and his nickname….

He’s also wild about his cousin, “Lala!” He sometimes says Laura, but usually it’s “Lala!” and his pitch and decibel level rise in excitement when she’s around, usually to the level of sonic torture within moments. Lala is the one who teaches him things like “Flying with Cars” (stand on table, take flying leap onto Cozy Coupe toy car’s roof, go skidding across the living room), “Perching on cars” (climb onto roof of car, be lord of all you survey) and “Gate scaling 101.”

Laura commented today that when he is four he will be bigger than she is. What she doesn’t realize is that when he’s four, he’s going to be bigger than she is when she’s six. She’s about 30 pounds. He’s 28. He’s been catching up steadily since birth. I’m guessing age 5 or 6 is when he’ll catch up to Shiny. For all that, he remains RIDICULOUSLY average. I think his weight is like 65th percentile, but we won’t know for sure until the next time he gets sick, because I put my mama foot down and will not set foot in the doctor’s office with them unless there’s a damn good reason, and having the doctor weigh and measure an obviously thriving child is not sufficient to risk setting foot in the office. We haven’t been in months… he hasn’t been sick in months. Coincidence? I think not. Screw you, well baby checks. We’re not vaccinating until he’s at least two, so there’s no point.

He’s my first kid to NOT fall percentiles in the second year of life. Kailea went from Sumo Baby to average during that time, Shiny went ages not gaining and then we went on a cruise and started her on CoQ10 and she put on 5 pounds in about 2 months. Kailea spent a year putting on a pound and then put on 3 pounds in 3 weeks right before her 2 year growth spurt. Miles just keeps ticking merrily upwards, his proportions changing very little, he just keeps getting closer, you know?

The baby isn’t all gone from him yet… what remains is the child who roots desperately in his sleep when the nipple falls away, and then who turns his head away and purses his lip when he’s sated. When he’s awake he’s all kid, but he clings to that last bit of baby in his sleep.

I find myself cherishing where he’s at, and cherishing the progress he makes, and regretting his passing through stages not in the slightest. When people say, “Stop growing, baby!” I shudder. I’ve been there, done that, and it’s not all that. Grow baby. Grow at your own pace, do your thing, you’re doing just fine.

A snapshot or two, verbally

“Go ahside? My Ah-side? Go car? Go car Shiny?” (Commenting on the process of picking up his sister from the bus.)

He no longer runs for the street when the front door is open. Until hubby turned it over, he ran for the kiddy pool instead, to splash in the 2 inches of water and muddy leaves and sticks he’s put in there like its his job. And for a few precious weeks, for the cluster of blackberry bushes, where he separated the berries into “Yayboowies” and “Yumboories” and “Yucky boories”. He chases our tenants’ cat and runs from their (giant) dog… (Atari the dog is a big black goofball. He’s half black lab and half newfoundland. He is a seriously HUGE black goofball. He can knock Miles over with his tongue, and often does.)

“Gimme dat” and “Leh GO!” and since our young friend’s visit, “Mine!” are becoming frequent refrains. He tried pulling that crap with Laura, who was all, “Dude, I’m an expert” and promptly stopped when she shriek retaliated and sat on him briefly. That said, he’s rapidly breaking her of the idea that she gets to set up elaborate play structures in this playroom and expect them to remain…. get this…. *rofl* untouched. She has her house, and her only child queen bee status, and she can do that THERE. Here, if you walk away from your six small creatures each in separate cups, you’ve got to expect that Miles is going to haul off two of the cups with creatures in, and that Shiny will pull the creatures out of the rest and then stack the cups, and then mug Miles for the cups he’s got and stack those cups too.

It is noisier but easier, marginally, with her here, though I find her talking to be endless. It’s been a long time since I had someone asking me that many questions.

Miles does ask questions but he’s not sure why yet. He loves saying and signing “What?” but doesn’t get that when I say “What?” to him that it’s a request to repeat what he previously said. If he’s getting in trouble and I start to catch him he’ll preempt me by saying, “Wha arn you dooning?” or the variant, “Where arn you go-ning?”

The inflection is priceless, as he apes me quite well. Including things he shouldn’t, like, “Dammee!” which is always said in as appropriate a situation as you can get for a 20 month old… such as, I drop my mouse, and he says, “Dammee! Dopped eet. I get it.” Since he then hops off my lap and hands me the mouse, I can’t complain.

He’s exploring cause and effect, and consequences. I handed him a bunch of grapes on Tuesday as we drove home from the produce co-op… and he ate many, but then started hollering, “Oh no, Gapes!” as we drove to Kailea’s house. A mile away from our destination, he started crying.

When I opened the door, I discovered many, many grapes lying on the floor of the car. I picked them up, handed them to him, and we were off with Kailea to go home…. as I drove we heard a small. thud…thud thud… and then, “Oh no, Gapes!” We glanced at each other, and tried to keep a straight face as we heard again…thud..thud thud…. “Oh no, Gapes!” And again with the crying…. by that point we were laughing out loud. 13 grapes he threw overboard, every time yelling, “Oh no, Gapes!”

He is SUCH an easy going kid. I mean, he has opinions and will get mad, but he genuinely enjoys having other kids around and seems to instinctively know how to insert himself into their play in a way I certainly never figured out. It’s like he’s surfing the top of the bell curve.

Oh dear god, I think I’m raising an extrovert.

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