22 Months

We are two months away from Will's second birthday.  It's been a few months now since I finally realized that he's a little boy.  There isn't much "baby" left about him at this point, aside from sleeping in a crib (which will continue until he can climb out of it on his own, which will probably happen with the next growth spurt.  Woe.  He already tries but can't get his leg high enough.)  I'm clinging to that vestige of infancy with everything I've got, because once that boy can roam the house at night, God help us all. 

He's talking up a storm, though I still only understand a fraction of what he says.  Some recent new words of his are: "Bill" - my father's name, though he still mostly calls him Papa (which sounds more like Popo), "A-choo" - pretend sneezing, always said in a very high pitched voice and with a vigorous shake of his head, "Deedoo" - this is Will's version of Andrew, who is my brother and Will's new most favorite playmate, "Hi-YA" - said as he kicks up his leg in the toddler version of karate, and "Amen" - sounds more like "ah-MAN" and is also said with a dramatic nod of his head after we pray over dinner.  In fact, he enjoys praying over dinner so much that we find ourselves doing so two to three times per meal at his request/demand.  We hold hands, close our eyes, and bow our heads.  I love peeking at him because, as he does any time he thinks he's doing something like a BIG BOY, he gets this satisfied little smirk on his face.  I think he's actually attempting NOT to smile, you know, because he's too cool and BIG BOY, but he can't help it.  It's adorable.

Charlie is one of his top priorities in life.  He starts asking about Charlie first thing in the morning before we even make it out of his room.  He helps us feed him.  He pets him.  He cuddles him.  He plays with him.  Sadly, playing with Charlie would be more aptly described as "terrorizing" Charlie at this point.  He chases the dog around the yard pushing his little red car like a battering ram.  And inside, any one of his push-toys serves the same purpose.  Charlie has learned to seek refuge on the couch.  But mostly, he plays along, running and dodging.  I think Charlie has become more agile since Will learned how to walk/run.  He used to get hit much more often.  I'm not sure if Charlie loves Will, or if he just tolerates him.  But one day soon, when Will isn't in a crib anymore, I have no doubt I'll find Charlie curled up in bed with him, the happiest dog in the world.  They will be best friends.

I think, if I had to sum up Will in one word at this point in time, it would "TROUBLE."  I give you evidence: I bought that little step stool a few months ago when Will was too short to climb up on the couch by himself.  It never failed that he would want to sit next to me while I was nursing Jake, so I figured he could use the stool.  He has since discovered OTHER uses for the stool.  Such as attempted escape.  Also, he brought it into the kitchen yesterday thus requiring that everything now be kept at least 12 inches from the counter edge.  Uncle Andrew added a new use for the stool to the list when he visited the other day - aircraft.  I love when Daddy or Uncle Andrew plays with Will.  Men play with kids differently than women and it's a whole new level of fun for Will.  The problem, however, is that any and all games played/created carry with them the expectation that they will be repeated, by Mommy.  While Will hasn't asked me to play Aircraft with him (which is good since I'm not sure I'm even physically capable) he HAS made THIS game an hourly occurrence.  They are playing "GO!".   This is a game where you run to one end of the house, turn around, wait for Will to jab his little finger out and shout "GO!", run to the opposite end of the house, and repeat.  Even Charlie enjoys this game.  Me, not so much.  Unfortunately this game also reinforces Will's belief that HE is in charge.  Of everything.  And everybody.  I can understand how he came to believe this since babies kind of DO call the shots.  But toddlers don't.  Will is having a hard time accepting this.  And thus, tends towards fits of wailing, and bossy finger pointing, and even some foot stamping.  It makes life around here exciting, and LOUD.  Very loud.

Most days being the mother of an almost two year old tends to kick my butt.  It is trying and exhausting.  But also really really funny.  He's becoming his own little person and it's amazing to see.  I never know what he'll do next.  For instance, I came in the den the other day to find this: I guess Mr. Monkey wanted to watch TV too.  What a goofball.  How I love that kid.