And now, for the last of Eldore’s monthly updates.
In a couple of weeks he’ll be two years old. What a lot of springing forward he’s done this month! He has suddenly started speaking–really talking, not just mimicking words (although he does love to do that)–actually responding to comments and questions, and usually in a way that shocks whoever was talking to or around him. Did Dodo just say that? Naturally he is using this newfound ability to make his own personal jokes and converse about his favorite topic, which is, of course, his baby sister and where she is or what she is doing.
He lives for reading, running about, harassing his big sister and pointedly refusing to be mothered by her, singing (Nothing But The Blood is a favorite), asking after Beatrice, wanting to go outside and then promptly wanting to be back inside, and eating. He likes to sit on the kitchen counter while I work (preferably with a handful of marshmallows or raisins to keep him company.) He loves his Ny (that’s Eldore-speak for “my”, or a blankie) and cars, and has changed his signature yah to yah, I do that it so cute I sometimes ask him questions just to get him to say it. “Eldore, want a marshmallow?” “YAH, I DO!”
He also likes for me to put gel in his hair, sitting very still for the procedure and then clapping his hands and squealing “DEE-dee, Mama!” (Thank you, Mama) before turning to admire himself in the mirror.
He, Elvie and Anselm are three peas in a pod, and spend most of the day in a little line tramping from place to place, Anselm in the lead (of course) followed closely by Elvie (probably wearing someone else’s shoes) with Eldore in the rear, doggedly following wherever they lead.
He is also a good companion to the older two boys, and likes to join them in their semi-silent car-and-train-and-lego play. Every so often Eldore goes quiet and missing, and usually that means he’s in the basement with Ephraim and Clive, and everyone is intently focused on their building or driving while listening to music. And Eldore is right there with them, closely observing how the wheels on a matchbox car turn when one runs it across a carpet.
He has a funny way of folding his hands and blinking his eyes (and fluttering his lashes) when he’s up to something–be that something legitimate or no, if he is pleased with himself for accomplishing it, he folds his hands up and looks as if he’s silently congratulating himself. It’s a humorous gesture that I will probably never capture on camera, for this age seems full of those little mannerisms that come and go as quickly as you notice them, and as soon as you try to catch them on film (as the saying goes) they disappear for good.
Ah, Mr. Fire-Thunder King, what an exciting and joyful twenty-three months it has been. Now you are almost two, and you’re entering the stage where Mama stops updating monthly, but she doesn’t stop watching. So keep growing, and try not to get into too much trouble, lest you get a poem written about you, or even a short story, like your brother Anselm.
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