Conversations with toddlers. . .

Mom: Are you a boy or a girl?
Toddler: Nuffin'
Mom: What about daddy? Is daddy a boy?
Toddler: No, he a BIG.
Mom: Daddy's big?
Toddler: Yeah.
Mom: Is he a boy?
Toddler: No, he a man.
Mom: Daddy's a man? What about you what are you?
Toddler: I two-and-a-half now.

A toddler never forgets. . .

As I get older, I forget things. . . a lot. Everything from the last name of a girl I dated briefly in college to where I put my keys (as the joke goes, the last place I end up looking for them). I think my memory is moving from me to my kid. He remembers pretty much everything. He remembers the name of the Friday's waitress that was nice to him, I forget to stop on the way home to buy milk. He remembers that one time at Target there was a Curious George puzzle in the bargain bin, I forget the capital of New Hampshire. He remembers that 8 hours earlier I promised to let him watch his favorite TV show, I forget that I promised to let him watch his favorite TV show 8 hours earlier.

He remembers several little tidbits of something from every experience. We drive by the local video store and he recalls that the Chipmunks poster that was there 3 weeks ago has been replaced by "a bwoo guy" from Avatar. He remembers that he and he once found a dead ladybug in the backyard. He remembers that when he and his mother pulled up to a particular stop sign she yelled "come on lady." All triggered by being again in a certain place at a certain time and all become the de facto thing that happens at that place and time.

I find it fascinating watch his little mind form memories. I listened to this show about memory, the first 20 minutes covers how memories are formed and recalled. The basic premise is that instead of recalling a memory—each time you remember it—you actually rebuild that memory. And when you do, you bring the emotions of the point of remembering and change the memory, weakening it. It makes me wonder how (or even if) the little monkeybear will remember what it was like to be this age. . . and it makes me realize that the more I lament on these memories myself the less pure the memories will be.

I know it's geeky, but it kind of makes me sad. Thinking back on him as a baby and realizing that I can never really remember what he was like because every time I do I change it a little. That the memory of seeing him for the first time will never be quite right in my head.

Toddler jokes. . .

The switch has been flipped. Our now two and a half year old has stopped speaking in one and two word fragments and started speaking in full sentences. One day it's all grunts and short smatterings of words the next a dissertation on the merits of wearing his pajamas all day and watching TV in our bed (great on weekends, a battle on weekdays).

Watching him gain his language skills makes me realize I took a completely wrong approach to learning Spanish a few years ago. I now understand how I should have approached learning a foreign language. I worried too much about verb tense and grammar when I should have just spoke poorly at first. Oh well live and learn.

He's also learning other things. He has been counting to 12 (sometimes with four 13's after it) for a long time. He's got his colors, he knows a lot of things. And he has a great sense of humor. . . sometimes. His running joke is to sit in the back seat at stoplights and trying to convince us that "red is go." This has expanded to "green is stop" and "orange is go too." It was funny the first time he did that a month ago, now it's like when my senile grandfather would yell "bingo" for a laugh. It was funny at first, then it became sad (mainly because if dissolved to "bay-go," then it was funny again for a little bit, then it was sad because he forgot about yelling "bingo" and we started to miss his joke.

I'm sure I'll miss the joke when it's gone.

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You know how it is when you catch up with a friend you used to hang out with and ignore the fact that it's been so long since you talked and just jump in and act like nothing happened? I think we should do that.