Lately, I am constantly amazed at the phrases spilling forth from my oldest son's mouth. He's had a big vocabulary for a while, but recently, something really clicked and he began forming whole thoughts and complete sentences. It's so much fun to have a conversation with him, and I love listening to his commentary as he runs around the house. He often greets his younger brother with a happy, "Hi Rhys! How are you doing?"
The other day, we got out in the cold for a bit and drove around an older part of our little town that I absolutely love. We stopped by the local water tower, one of those old metal tanks that dots the Texas landscape, and he oohed and ahhed for a bit. Once we were home and James had finished his snack, he stacked his sippy cup on top of his snack cup and exclaimed, "Look! Water Tower!"
Then, yesterday, I gave him a little too much freedom and left my bedroom for a minute while he colored in his coloring book. When I returned to change Rhys' diaper, James pronounced, "Look! Name on it!"
Distracted, it took me a minute to grasp the severity of his statement, before I asked, "Name on WHAT? Show me!"
That's when he pointed to the duvet cover on my bed, which was colored in orange and yellow crayon. But no permanent harm was done, since the duvet needed to be washed and the crayons are exactly that, washable.
And, in other news, James seems to be imitating one of my favorite characters from "Arrested Development," the perpetually juvenile youngest brother, Buster Bluth.
Last night with dinner, James had some diluted fruit juice, the kind that contains an entire serving of vegetables, and though we put him to bed at his usual time, he was still wide awake two hours later, laughing and rolling around in his crib.
I'm just waiting for some woman named Lucille to show up at my door.