Friday, April 10, 2009

One, two, three... Three Screech

Philip's speech has been coming on lately... Which, let me tell you, makes it a LOT easier to like him. (Philip has one hell of a temper... so if once in a while he tells me what he is screeching about, it can greatly improve things.)
It has been a big struggle to avoid comparing what Philip says to what Matilda was saying at his age... But these past couple of weeks, his sentences have been more frequent.
Morning. Philip has just woken up.
Philip: See Tata! (That's what he calls Matilda.)
Me: Matilda is sleeping.
Philip. Go 'stairs! Knock on door!
Me: No, we have to wait for her to wake up first.
Philip: Wait a minute.

THAT, folks, is communication!

Me: *pretending to growl at Matilda*
Philip: Like a dinosaur!

He has also managed to learn some rote-counting. The highest he'll go up to is 12. (No coincidence, that's the number of steps on our stairs.)It is so funny to observe these things. Matilda was light-years ahead of Philip in her language and expressive skills, but THIS, they are both doing at the same age.
Have a look (watch all the way for some extra Philip cutess points.)


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It's been really nice to see Philip's communication skills evolving, actually, because the kid sure can annoy me! Sorry if it sounds bad, but it's true. With Matilda we never went through the terrible 2's and tantrums. Well, if I ever thought of feeling smug about my parenting skills, Philip was quick to stop me on my tracks. The boy can SCREAM! If you cross him, beware! His bones turn into plasticine, his face goes red, and the screaming begins. This happens at least twice a day these days. (Hint: His most frequent trigger is when we dare expose him to the indignity of having his clothes changed. See why I said at least twice a day?) I really REALLY can't wait until he learns how to put on his own clothes.

Pillar of Society... But behind closed doors, his true nature emerges...

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Apropos of the policeman photo, if I ever decide to rob a bank, I'll make sure I have Philip as a witness... I can't wait to see the suspect portrait they whip up: (Notice, I didn't ask him to count my chins. I don't think I could take it if he said "three.")


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Philip is a skinny little critter. Lately, as his baby fat has been turning into toddler muscle, he's been having trouble keeping his trousers on (oh dear! Let that not be a sign of things to come!) Quite often I will be walking down the street holding Philip's hand, and I'll notice someone pointing and chuckling*. Turn around, and here is Philip, like Lord Muck, happily walking along with his trousers around his ancles. (If you think I'm exagerating for commic effect, think again... It's happened more than 5 times, in different clothes.)

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Conversation with Matilda today, while walking down the street.
Matilda: (after skirting around a passer-by.) I was nice! I said it nicely, mummy! I was a polite little girl!
Me: (distracted) What did you say nicely dear?
Matilda: "Out of the way!"
Me: *gasp* What did you say?
Matilda: I said "excuse me" instead.
Me: *phew*

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*I have stoped being surprised at people pointing and chuckling since I've had kids. You would have too.

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