It is no secret that he has been my most challenging toddler, the one to do all those stereotypical things that my other kids didn't do or rarely did, like color on things he shouldn't; flood the bathroom by trying to flush a ginormous stuffed animal down the toilet; be potty trained and then regress, making the most ridiculous messes in the process that have scarred me for life (and as a result he is back in diapers full time, after appearing to have been totally trained); learn to climb out of his crib and become injured (see pic below; the eye cut probably should have been stitched; it's left quite a scar. This was in the fall, he's been in a toddler bed now for a few months)
and many other lovely things. It's not been a dull couple of years with him. However, he is getting much better and has left many of things behind. Good riddance.
But somewhere in the middle of the tantrums and the messes, I have fallen really really into love with this little boy, who also has many positive traits. He is a real love, and will gladly snuggle me upon request (most of the time). He is super smart; right before he turned 2 I discovered that he knows the alphabet, when he started identifying the letters on his onesie. For months now, he has been able to identify the entire alphabet, either by finding a requested letter, or by naming any letter I point out. He knows all the colors and can count to 20, and knows some shapes. This is purely the result of watching Sesame Street, as I had not worked with him for one second on letters. He is quite a conversationalist, no doubt the result of being the youngest in a highly verbal family. He loves books. Loves them. His favorites rotate on a regular basis, but currently include Dinotrux and Revenge of the Dinotrux, Go, Dog! Go, and My Many Colored Days. There are many others, but these get top reading right now. He tries to memorize them, and I hear him "reading" them on a regular basis. Adorable.
He has a vivid imagination, and is much more afraid of ghosts and monsters at this age my others have been. We were at a baptism recently, and when Holy Ghost was mentioned, Mason got very concerned and said loudly for all to hear, "The Holy Ghost is NOT coming right now!" He has to have his closet door shut at night b/c of ghosts and monsters.
Despite his feisty toddlerhood, amazingly his nursery leader has repeatedly told me that he is the definite leader in his nursery class, and has by far the best manners. This is where I do a celebratory dance, that maybe he is going to be all right after all.
He loves cooking. The minute he hears me start messing in the kitchen, he comes running, asking "what we cooking, mom?" You'll notice the "we." He always wants a part in the kitchen, which not surprisingly can be rather challenging and treacherous. I really can't let down my culinary guard when he's around. One morning I heard some funny sounds, only to find he had gotten into the fridge, hauled out the eggs, and started cracking them into a frying pan and stirring them with a spatula (which he pronounces in the most cute way, as with so many words as this age). I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I probably did both.
He always always wants to keep up with the big kids, not accepting the fact that sometimes he can't. He had quite the fit when I told him he really could not ride back with his brothers, without his car seat-
It's fun to watch his relationship with his siblings. Connor swings between wanting to be the helping big brother, and his biggest antagonist. These two cause sparks a lot, not what I would have expected. But Connor dearly loves that little person, and often is highly amused by him (Connor is often highly amused by many things).
Isabel and Mason are especially close, probably b/c Connor and Lucas are really tight these days. She loves to be a mothering big sister, but in a really helpful, sweet, kind, loving way. It's a beautiful thing. The two of them like to play this "squeaker the mouse" game a lot, and it's darling. The other day they were squeakers the mice lost in Transylvania. And one wonders why he's afraid of ghosts. But he loves when she includes him in her life, which happens often; I love how he is totally imitating her here-
He and Lucas do the best buds/worst enemies routine, but it's mostly best buds. They love playing a lot of things together, and Mason can hold his own in the imagination games these days. On the days Lucas doesn't have kindy, they love to build forts, play with trains, read books together, wrestle, play outside, talk about superheroes, and the like.
Mason is one of my best toddler eaters; he loves salad, and will try most things once. This is new for me after 3 heavily picky toddlers. He sometimes naps, sometimes doesn't, and I like the flexibility. He comes into our room almost every night in the wee hours and plants himself between Brian and myself. If you have a child who has done this, I might have judged you for it. But now, in fact, this is my reality. It barely wakes me up, and sleep is to valuable a commodity for me these days, so for now I say whatever. And maybe there's a wee part of me that likes his little sweetness snuggled next to me. Some night I'll break the habit. Some night. But it's hard to resist this face (a recent living room nap on what had been a no-nap Sunday)-
A few other tidbits about Mason at two... he does a playgroup with his nursery friends, and enjoys it. He hated nursery for months and months but finally loves it. He loves vehicles and balls, Cars and Lightening McQueen, Mater and the gang are beloved to him. I love love love having conversations with him b/c he so verbal and asks questions and such, and pronounces pretty much everything in the cutest way ever. Oh, we all five of us love talking to Mason and laughing/ogling over the way he says things, and the phrases he picks up around him (like good grief, a new one). He is so aware of his surroundings and never misses a beat. He maintains a seriously strong cowlick. He has luscious blue eyes and long, thick lashes. He is a thumb sucker, and loves his blankey, which has disintegrated into dozens of pieces. So now we call it "pieces of blankey" some some freakin toddler rock band. It looks weird when he is clasping a 3 inch by 3 inch piece of blankey, but the good part is when one piece goes missing there are always several other pieces right by. He doesn't seem to mind, unless all pieces are missing at once.
