The Twos. When you really look at it, there's nothing terrible about it at all.
So we're typical two-year-olds (or two-and-a-half-year-olds). Our vocabulary has exploded, we repeat and remember EVERYTHING, and as a result, say the darndest things. Our mom has failed miserably at documenting them all, but we're just too fast. We're hysterical. We're moody. We're delightful. We're draining. We're independent. We're clingy. We're adorable. We're unbelievable. We're so smart. We're the absolute BEST. And we're two (-and-a-half).
For whatever reason, the "half-year" mark hits our mom harder than the birthdays. (It's just always hard to believe that half of the current time is over, each time!) So she's stopped to write about some of our unique personality traits at this time in our little lives. Of course, we are not all these things all the time; we have our good and better days; and we may not be this way forever. We're pretty typical compared to other two-year-olds, but NOTHING compares to us.
John David is a HELPER.
I help my Mama a lot. I throw away diapers, trash, and "old, lucky (yucky)" Kix and Cheerios I find on the floor, without being asked. I've even begun, on two occasions, to clean up toys. I often get a wipe to clean the table. I sometimes shake the milk out of my sippy cup so that I'll have something to wipe up. I almost always stop what I'm doing to find Thomas his "blue pillah" when he is hurt or upset. I look for Thomas when it gets quiet and Mama asks again, "Thomas, where are you?" I run to find out and report back to her. On very rare occasions, I turn down a request for help, like when my Granny asked me to help unload the dryer one morning. Being as polite as I am helpful, I told her, "Not today."
John David is mostly CAUTIOUS,
(a personality trait I inherited from my mama, no doubt). I do not like anything that may cause pain or harm. I will "pank" it or send it to time out. I report any danger I see. For most of my entire (two and a half year) life, I've usually, from my mom's arms, watched Thomas do it first. However, I've recently begun to take a risk or two. For example, Thomas and I were both terribly frightened of two noisy, shaky trucks we got for Christmas, and I was first to finally give them a try. My parents were really surprised and proud of my bravery and how I helped Thomas "not be scared".
John David is MAMA'S BOY.
Most of the time, "I be you litta boy, Mama." Of course, I love my Daddy and have lots of fun with him, but I really NEED my Mama when it's time to get out of the tub and go to bed.
John David is INTENSE and INDEPENDENT.
Do not help me unless I ask for it. If you do me a favor by getting, reaching, straightening, lifting, organizing, moving, or just plain doing anything for me that I did not ask you to do, you will just ruin it for us both. That's the only time I'll ever "pank" you and/or throw the item you touched across the room (and you should SEE what kind of an arm I've got!!). If one of us (Thomas or me) is an a bad mood, you don't want it to be me. My Aunt Brittany once said I got this from her. Hopefully this will develop into patience and perseverance.
John David CARES about his little (bigger) brother.
If I find something I like or of interest, I'm going to take one to Thomas. If I cannot find two, I'll let you know that "Thomas need one". I repeat, "Hee (here) Thomas, hee Thomas, hee Thomas" until he takes it and decides if he agrees with me. I don't like to go to school without him or stay home without him. If I do not know where he is, I ask, "Where Thomas go?" And he is HANDS-DOWN, THE FUNNIEST person I know. No one makes me laugh like my brother does. I'm also very caring of others. If you need medicine, which I LOVE to give and take, I'll give you the "cold medicine" which is actually not for a cold at all; I got my first memorable shot not too long ago, and since most everything Mama wants us to stay away from is HOT, that shot must've had hot medicine in it. I'm kind enough to give people cold medicine. Mama accidentally gave us her white toothpaste instead of our Little Einsteins toothpaste one night, and it was HOT! So I also offer my patients Einstein medicine. Aren't I sweet?
John David likes STUFF.
I am always carrying around something, usually more than I can hold with both arms. When it's time for bed, I quickly scurry to gather things for myself (and for my brother, of course) and quickly, with great skill and aim, hurl them into the cribs. To be certain I have enough, I'll check, "I got too much stuff, Mama?" This is where my cars with storage under the seats and dump truck beds and a shopping carts come in handy. Next to my crib is a stack of tall baskets with stuffed animals, and after Mama and Daddy close the door at night, I stock us both up with these as well. Each night after we've gone to sleep, Mama laboriousy removes all my stuff, including the stuffed animals I've accurately thrown into Thomas's bed. She leaves only my baby penguin, white dog, lion, and "Lukey doggie" (??); Thomas gets to keep his monkey, white dog, and baby penguin. She won't let us take any stuff to school, so I leave my stuff in my car seat until I get back. Mama's car is FULL of my stuff.
Thomas is....a MESS.
Everyone in my family says to me, "You're a mess!" I like to say funny things and have funny reactions. If I overhear you telling someone else about something I've done or said, I'll do it again to humor you. One example, "Ooo (you) go to work, Mama." (After Mama overheard me asking my Granny for ice cream at 7 a.m., she replied "Thomas, we don't eat ice cream for breakfast.") Or when John David and I were putting balls under our shirts to make a "BEEEG belly" and I asked my Aunt Mary, "Ooo got balls in ooo shirt?" The best part of being a mess is when I make my brother laugh, and John David is very good at making me laugh, too. We laugh and laugh our greatest laughs when we're talking to each other in our cribs. Another part of being a mess is being the director. I direct people where sit, what they can play with or drive, etc. I usually do this in a very upbeat and kind manner, making certain that the ones I'm directing know they're getting a good deal: "Ooh sit riiiight here, on da couch." (That way I can have Daddy's chair.) "Ooh drive dis truck. (the one I don't want) "No I gotta drive dat truck." (oh wait, that is the one I want) "Ooh be dis one." (here, I don't want this one anymore) "Ooh like dis one." (the one I don't want to play with) What can I say? I just happen to end up my truck of choice and the best seat in the house most of the time. "Ooo wanna bite of mine? Hee Mama." (I hand her an invisible crum.) Yep, I'm a mess.
Thomas is CURIOUS and MISCHIEVOUS.
(I also know more than they think I do.) My famous last words (and your cue to keep your eyes on me) are "I gon' be riiiiiiiiiight back! Ooo stay here." I notice anything new or out of the ordinary or accidentally left out for me to reach. My mama is thankful that I usually bring it to her first (John David usually makes an announcement about it and delivers it to her), but I usually do that when I need to find out what it's called or what it does. If I can figure out what it does on my own, I use it until I get bored with it or until she takes it away. For many weeks after that, I ask her why I can't have it: "I not have dat, Mama?" "Dat burn me, Mama?" "I not touch dat, Mama?" "Ooh will cry, Mama?" I'm also very good at changing the subject and redirecting your attention when you confront me about something I might have done.
Thomas is DADDY'S BOY...And sometimes Mama's.
I flip flop, mostly to my advantage, but my Daddy's pretty great! I want to go everywhere and anywhere he's going. I need my Mama when Daddy does things I don't like, when I get hurt, and when I wake up in the middle of the night. However, just like I remind Mama that I am a boy, I remind her that she's NOT a boy; she's a Mama. (Some jobs are just for daddies and boys.) I often ask, "Ooo a grell (girl), Mama?" just to be certain that a girl and a mama can be the same thing.
Thomas is CUDDLY but NOT ready to go to bed.
"I want to sleep in OOO bed!" I used to be a great little sleeper when I was a baby, but I'm not a baby. I can match my brother's intensity when I object to bedtime. Some nights I'm too tired to argue, and I usually don't carry on too long, but I can really throw a tantrum in my crib. I'll put on the same show in the middle of the night if I am not transferred to my parents' bed. I'm hard to resist in the wee hours of the morning; I'm so sweet and cuddly and I usually go right to sleep. (Perhaps they don't want to hear me carry on, either.) John David rarlely even wakes up during my tantrums (we've swapped sleeping habits since we were born) and he much prefers sleeping in his own crib (which usually works out for everyone, because he needs his space in the bed). When things don't go my way, I can drag out bedtime and see my parents again with these famous lines:
"I NEED MY BLUE PILLA!!!!!" (that I deliberately and defiantly tossed out)
"I NEED MAMA'S WATER!!!!" (aka ice water in a big cup with no lid; and two sips, not one)
"I NEED MY BLANKET ON!!!" (cover me up with the silky one, no the new one, no my silky one)
Thomas is a TRUCK man.
Race car, monsta truck, hot rod, tanker, school bus, mixer, dump truck..."Whas a blue race car say, Mama?" vrrrrrmmm "Whas dat green race car say?" vrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmm "He not say vrrrrmmmm, he say VRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMM VRRRRRRMMMMMM!" "Whas a baby monsta truck say?" "Whas a daddy monsta truck say?" "Whas a ___ say?"..........
Thomas is IMAGINATIVE.
This is where Mama has a hard time recalling and keeping track of all the things I imagine and tell. Animals I report seeing in the hallway, why that baby is crying, where that man is going on TV, what that bug is doing...I have an idea. I have really good ideas. Want to know the name of one of my horses? my donkey? I'll immediately tell you, but you can't pronounce it, let alone spell it to type it. My parents can only imagine what I'll say or do next.
Well, now that Mama's started this, she doesn't know where to stop; there aren't words for some of the characteristics that describe us, and her memory comes and goes. Some of the most obvious are probably left off and may be added later. There are many things we both are, many wonderful and beautiful things that seem endless. And we're constantly changing!! But we LOVE each other and can't imagine existence any other way than together.
We are BOYS.
We have to remind Mama of this often, as in this typical conversation:
Mama: "I don't know where your (fill in the blank) is, baby."
Boys: "I NOT a baby."
Mama: "I meant, boy."
Mama, singing: "You are my sunshine..."
Boys: "I not you hot sun, Mama."
Mama: "You ARE my sunshine!"
Boys: "No Mama, I take you sunshine away."
Mama: "Aww. Who can be my sunshine??"
Thomas: "John Dabid be you sunshine. I be you BIG Boy."
John David: "I not be you hot sun, Mama. I be you litta boy, Mama."
Mama: "Who can be my sunshine?"
Thomas : "John Dabid."
John David: "I be you litta boy."
Mama: "I need a sunshine."
John David: "Umm...LeeLee (Lily) be you sunshine."
Sometimes we like to tease her with "I be you BABY, Mama!!" so she'll squeal and pick us up, but not for long and we're her big boys instead. We'll continue to remind Mama of this fact, no matter how much she frowns or cries. We're quickly changing from babies to boys, but for now, we're only half way there!