Beanstalk is one hardy little fellow. OK, not so little. He's creeping up on eight at alarming speed. The moment he starts creeping up on another year, so does Squib. Born three years and one week apart, those two make July 18-23 like Christmas around here when it comes to celebration and gift-giving. They'll be five and eight this year. Squib will be going to school in the fall. I won't exactly be doing nothing, but a milestone in our family life will most definitely have been reached. It's like the first step of Empty Nest Syndrome. They're not gone, but they're slowly...going.
Speaking of milestones, Beanstalk is ripping by them left and right. This week, his speech assignment was to begin using three-word sentences. Warhol (Beanstalk's dad) just called me to tell me about the first multi-word incident.
Warhol: "I..." (leading)
Beanstalk: "...want..." (automatically repeating...he's good)
Warhol: "...music." "Now, you do it."
Beanstalk: (eyes rolling...I just KNOW they were rolling because he's my son) "Dad, I want music." (grin)
Warhol: "Four words. Nice."
Beanstalk loves any opportunity to show you he can one-up you or skip over something if at all possible. He's always spoken "a" language. We called it Klingon jokingly...until we started to hear some of the words repeated and realized he really was speaking his own language! So, he still uses some Klingon like "Egog" for "Poppa" which is his name for Warhol. He can use the word Dad, but the Klingon is the language in which he named us, so the names stay. English for everything else is a must, though.
He even used to have a ridge down the center of his forehead where a suture line became prominent for a while. I was ready to call the Star or the National Enquirer just to pay off the surgery for his feet. Should have done. Oops.
Can't wait to see him this weekend!
Business is slow, but the light is on at the end of the tunnel. Flickering dimly, but on...yay!