about a boy

(continued from)

The way he loves to admire himself in the mirror these days, how he looks at himself and gets the giggles.
The way new words are coming thick and fast now.
The way he impresses us both by pointing at everything and naming it.
The way he only says the first syllable of most words, figuring that I'll work out what he means from the context. Thus "buh" is expected to be understood to mean any of: banana, bus, bike, button, baby, balloon, biscuit. Maybe I should make it harder for him. I should pretend I don't have a clue what he means unless he at least tries to say the whole word--and just ignore all the furious indicating in the direction of the biscuit tin.
The way he can say certain two syllable words, like "tiger" and "tractor" and "apple" and "chicken" and "piggy", and of course "mama" and "papa".
The way he loves pointing out that I have a "hole" in my belly and how he likes to prove it with a finger. He won't accept that it's a belly "button". He knows what buttons look like and he's sorry, but it's definitely a hole.
The way he draws left-handed like me.
The way he loves informing me if there's "two" of something.
The way I can trick him into obedience if I say, "Show X how you can climb into your stroller all by yourself now," (haha! Got him!).
The way he likes watching the Top 50 on Rage on Saturday mornings; with favourites being songs by Ben Lee, Missy Higgins, Delta Goodrem, Destiny's Child, Eminem, Joel Turner and Foo Fighters. (I judge a "favorite" to be a song that gets him to stop what he's doing and glue his little face to the telly. But that's the problem with music video: you never know if it's the music or the video, do you?)

to be continued...