We have never called him a 'big boy" -- that expression just doesn't resonate with me -- but, oh my, Henry most certainly seems "big" lately. In both the physical and psychological sense, he has hit some serious growth spurts. We need to buy a new car seat: the forty pound maximum weight limit (that seemed *huge* when we bought it) has definitely been surpassed. He's also well over forty inches tall and is wearing sizes 4 or 5 in clothing. His chunky baby feet are headed in a paternal direction. Rather than getting my {average} foot genes, Henry is likely going to be like his size 15 father -- he is already nearing size 11 and has long ago outgrown all of the sweet toddler shoe brands.
In recent weeks, he's started singing -- and I can't imagine a lovelier sound. I can't believe the lyrics that he knows. It's one of many examples of how easily he absorbs everything. Thank goodness we are family music fans so the little tunes he's belting out are pretty much wholesome. The other day we were playing at a friend's house and I could hear Henry -- off on his own, across the room -- repeating the several songs that we had heard in the car that morning: "bouncing up and down in my little red wagon ..."
His obsession with vacuum cleaners continues -- it seemed to have lessened for awhile, but I'd say he's back into it, full-force. My stick vacuum (similar to this one) is probably his single favorite "toy." He long ago mastered its assembly and disassembly ... and he loves to create different combinations of handles, sticks, and attachments. We have endured endless questions from him about which attachment is best for cleaning different surfaces. I would wager that he is one of few two-year-olds chatting about "upholstery attachments" and "crevice tools." He is certainly a quirky little guy -- and I have a feeling where he might have gotten a bit of that (coming from someone who may or may not have been obsessed with Little Orphan Annie to the point of owning a curly red wig and a matching belted red dress).
In addition to vacuum cleaners, he is very interested in other "mechanical" things. He gets very excited when Eric or I use any type of tool -- and he loves to "help" with something out of his little red toolbox. Eric recently installed a "cat door" for Suzy Q, which involved sawing a huge hole in our basement door. Since then, Henry has been making "Suzy doors" by vigorously {pretend} cutting the dining room wall with his toy handsaw. He thinks tape measures are quite fascinating. The other day we were at a nursery, shopping for planters to fit on our front garden wall. After I measured a few pots, Henry took off with my tape measure and happily "measured" things while I shopped. He declares the {fictional} result after each measurement: "128 point 5!" or "143!" Last weekend he saw a power sander in Grandpa's garage. All week he pretended a certain piece of ribbon was his "sander." He has a wonderfully wild imagination -- and his pretend play usually involves lots of narration about what he's doing. Very fun to sneak a peek into his {highly creative} world.
He is an energetic, determined, spirited little guy. I know someday these characteristics will be fabulous, but when I am trying to pay for my mocha and he is running toward a shelf of teetering ceramic mugs? When I am talking to the barista and his curious hands knock over a glass cake plate? Not fabulous. We have had some seriously rough mojo at my favorite coffee house lately. Henry has long been well-known and well-loved by the staff, but it has reached a point that I don't feel like I can take him there anymore. Maybe it's the heady scent of good espresso -- I don't know -- but something gets into him every time we step foot in the place. I am getting looks from people -- and not just there. He's had lots of practice in public places -- we have taken him pretty much everywhere with us from the start -- but sometimes it just doesn't matter. He's two. And feisty. {sigh} I need to keep reminding myself: this will get easier. Eventually.
Thank goodness he's cute. And silly. And so very curious. And sometimes cuddly.
His zest for life is really contagious. When I slow down enough -- am mindful enough -- I see that he has big lessons to teach me. Simple joys abound.
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