
Beatrice turned nineteen months on the 4th of November.
I am pleased to say that her air-biting has diminished this month, probably as a result of her expressing herself more easily with actual words. As told her doctor when asked if we can understand most of what she says, I don’t understand one word of Beadese, but when she deigns to speak English, she’s fairly intelligible.
And I do mean deign; sometimes she point-blank refuses to say a word which she is completely capable of saying. It is possible she only resists because she has been asked to do it, and feels that English is somehow beneath her. (This is not a novel sentiment amongst the Kranslings of this age.) At any rate, she first refuses to say a word, and then is supremely offended that she is denied what thing she desires on the grounds of her refusal to communicate. (At this point the air-biting will sometimes manifest. More often, however, she decides to acquiesce to speaking the vernacular.)


Along with an increase in speaking, we have also seen an increase in singing. She loves music–always has–but now she sings on her own. “Prinkle Prinkle” is a favorite (that’s Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to the uninitiated), as is “Baa Back Sheep” (self-explanatory). She likes to sing along to the hymns we’re learning in school, too, though she mostly makes things up as she goes along.
She also loves to count, and will count to six and sometimes seven, if she’s feeling like it. She also loves to watch you write her nickname (Beada) and will “spell” it with you. Then she grabs the pencil and attempts to copy the writing herself.


These writing attempts are what we call her “Beadie Circles”; tiny little circles that she meticulously draws over and over and over. She draws them with pencils, she draws them with pens, she draws them with crayons that she keeps finding on the floor no matter how hard I try to make sure they’re all cleaned up. She knows where the paper is, and will get a piece and place it on the floor, flop down on her belly, and draw tiny Beadie Circles with her scavenged stylus. Then, sometimes, she will tire of the paper, and draw Beadie Circles all over whatever surface she can find.
One day I spent a lot of time (things just take longer with a newborn around) cleaning the bathroom, and cleaning the floor in particular. (Our bathroom is of mid-century tile, and the floor is a typical square-and-octagon pattern.) Later that night I was giving baths when I realized that one of the squares on the floor had a mark on it. I leaned down to look and discovered each little white square of the freshly cleaned floor had a tiny Beadie Circle in it. I laughed. Then I searched the house for the stray pencil with which the crime had been committed. She is remarkably adept at finding stray pencils, and then protesting most vehemently when they are confiscated. But Mom, I’m an ARTIST!
The pencil marks cleaned right up, by the way.

As we near her second birthday, I am realizing with some relief and trepidation that she is a staunch paci user, and that we’re going to have to deal with that soon. Ephraim got over the issue fairly easily at age two. We will see what happens with her. At the moment, the way it’s going is I keep having to deter her from stealing Aurick’s pacifier when I’m not looking. I’m still glad that I’m not going to have to deal with breaking a thumb/finger(s) sucking habit, though.

Oh, does she have a big, big personality, with a big, big laugh. She loves to be chased, and for you to hide in a doorway as she toddles down the hall so you can jump out and scare her out of her wits. She has this look she gives when she knows she’s being hilarious. She is good at farting at the wrong moment in order to make you laugh. She still slips into her chipmunk giggle when she’s really tickled over something.
She is obsessed with her shoes, and will cry when I take them off. She’s made peace with having her hair done, and will now sit expectantly while I comb her hair into pigtails and–and!–she does not pull them out.
It has just occurred to me that we should try bows again.

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