Nearly two and a half years old is a magical age. If I ignore the miserable sleeping, night wakings, and refusal to nap, that is. When not strung out from being over-tired, my little Gumball is such a delight. She talks, has opinions, makes jokes, and vigorously loves our poor cat, Pumpkin, thoroughly.
She occasionally wants me to call her "Betsey" after a girl in one of her Curious George books.
She pairs all toys and animals up into "mama and baby" sets. Including, but not limited to: mama and baby rocks, mama and baby pieces of string cheese, and mama and baby Curious George stuffed animals.
The other day, when she was eating toast, she held her bitten piece up to me, and said, "Look, Mama. A dog." And the bitten piece of toast actually looked exactly like a dog.
She has started coloring deliberately- eyes are one color, flowers are one color, and there are lots of circles. Recently she colored in many circles in different colors, and told me that they were "people's eyes."
Any doll with fake hair goes immediately into time out: in the sink, in one of her shoes, or on the other side of the gate. She shrieks when she sees that I've returned them to her toy bins, and giddily returns them to their time out locations.
Everything she says has a strong Boston accent.
Her favorite song of the moment is "Little Drummer Boy." Which she calls "So to Honor Him." I am hoping, fervently, that we aren't continuing to sing Christmas carols into the spring.
She thinks every box is a "pendent" (present) for her.
She still pronounces her own name as "Yaya."
She is starting to get good at hugging with her arms and kissing with her lips. As opposed to air kissing and air hugging. All while saying "huuuuuuuggggg" and "kiss."
My kid is awesome, and I can't imagine loving anyone more than I love her.
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