Superman: See my cape?
Elephant: Oh, oh!
Superman: Where my mask?
Elephant: I don't know. Oh no! The mask!
Giraffe 1: You wanna go first?
Giraffe 2: Nay, me! (walks out on the extendable table arm used to support the extra leaf)
Giraffe 1: My turn! I go! (follows)
Giraffe 2: We all done now.
Giraffe 1: Ok. Put away! (Giraffe pushes the arm back into the table) Hawlp me, hawlp me! Please!
Giraffe 2: I hawlping (both Giraffes are now shoving at the table arm).
Spork sings the Dinosaur Train theme song now, and I can't even describe how awesome it is. He does something crazy with his voice, making it lower and more nasally than it is naturally, and he sings it at top volume.
Spork has decided that it's in his best interest to inform on Tater Tot. When I'm unloading the dishes or trying to get a minute to pee in peace, he'll come stomping to me, fake tears in his eyes, his face crumpled, and whining up a storm. When I ask him what's wrong, he'll say, "Sis-say! Up there! Oh no!" And I'll follow him to find her scaling the brick fireplace wall to reach the mantle/elbows deep in my purse fishing for lotion/pulling tissues one by one out of the box. He might only have 5 months on her, but big brother knows trouble when he spots it!
Daddy says that Spork is cut out for the offensive line, and he's already trying to play the part by busting his poor lil' face up all the time. Plus, he's a scab picker, so there is this ancient (originally received in November) owie that he keeps letting heal then reopening at the last minute. All I can do is sigh, keep it clean, and hope he eventually learns to leave it be!
Spork has developed quite the rapport with the kindergartners and teachers. He is brimming over with enthusiasm and the unquenchable desire to join in the classroom. Mrs. L has a special fondness for Spork, and he pretty much launches his 40 pound self at her when she comes within a few yards of him. The other day, to show off for Mrs. L, he started strutting and marching and performance culminated with him grabbing and repeatedly chest bumping the door frame. I don't believe I've ever seen anything like it.
I had to remind myself of this post, back when the Nugget was Tater's age, because once again, I'm struggling with the toddler id and the physical/scientific nature of the 2-2.5 yo, when Tater pulled hair and pushed today, followed by Spork exuberantly flinging his best bud out of the way (and off a step, thankfully the bottom one) at a playspace today. At least this time I'm armed with the proof that a pushy/smacky/grabby 2yo can indeed mature into a lovely gentle preschooler given consistent correction and what feels like a lot of time to grow! This too, shall pass, self. In the meantime, thankful for friends who give us grace and understanding while our children learn and grow together, through the fun and not-so-fun phases!