Monday, November 10, 2014

Little Things I Love

Sylvia still has very few words (compared to the 140 her brother had at this age--goodness). But she is fluent in gesture and she is such a mimic. She watches constantly, and tries out everything we do. She is currently on the floor with one of Andrew's t-shirts, alternately trying to put it on and trying to bundle her stuffed animals in it.

Peregrine calls Mulan "Mow Da Lawn." Like, in a really hick accent. It's the best.

Sylvia is obsessed with the chickens. Completely obsessed. She looks for them out every window, in our house or not. Woe betide you if you try to feed the chickens without her. She will quit eating and beg to get down so that she can accompany you and she has even been known to wake up from nap right before Andrew or I was planning to feed them. She doesn't mess around with it either. She goes straight for the food container and starts yelling at you to open it up. She can pretty much do the chickens herself. Except for, you know, opening all the latches. Raccoon proof equals Sylvia proof.

Peregrine says "look likes" instead of "looks like." Usually, it's stuff like, "Oh, dat look likes a upside down L!" but my favorite is "Look likes it's rainin' today!"

One of Sylvia's very few words is "dee." And it's probably her most often used. (Though "more" is a close runner up, as it basically just means "I want.") When I give her a dee, I usually sing a dee song--nothing fancy, basically just singing "dee dee dee" over and over to this jazz tune I taught my middle schoolers once upon a time--but she has started singing it, too, every time she sees a dee or puts a dee in her mouth. She already has a sense of pitch, and a lovely, melodious little voice. I love hearing her sing! (Surprisingly, P pretty much never sings. And, I'm betting he won't until he knows several songs perfectly--pitch, rhythm, words, the works. Then he'll sing perfectly. This is just the way P does things.)

Peregrine contracts "will not" as "willn't." It's the best ever. It's hard to stay stern when you've told P to do something and he looks at you with his big blue eyes and says, "Oh, I willn't." It's icing on the cake when you tell P not to do something, and he looks at you with his big blue eyes and says, "Oh, I willn't."

Sylvia is utterly obsessed with Peregrine. Another of her very few words is "ka-ga" or "cha-ga" and she asks for him all the time. He's less than enamored with her habit of constantly being in his business, but he loves her as much as ever. Those two. Their friendship is the absolute best.

Peregrine has such a strong little soul, so very aware of God and life. He is asking so many questions these days and it's amazing and humbling to know that God has put me in the place of answering them. Sometimes it's heartbreaking, seeing him trying to make sense of a world that is messy. My logical, honest-to-a-fault, truth-seeking boy always wants clean answers, and sometimes, there are none to give. But, it's beautiful, walking beside him in this faith journey of his. He asked me the other day if I was scared of dying. I'd love to tell him I'm not, but I am, and I told him so. He told me he was "so much scared" of dying, and I told him none of us knows what it will be like, but God has promised to be with us the whole way, and to help our souls get to heaven. And we stayed in that moment, together. He's still so very little, but he's such a person already. I am honored to have some of the keeping of his soul.

Sylvia loves babies. Loves them. It cracks me up, because she is one, but she can spot them anywhere. She loves baby dolls, but real babies are the best. We were in church the other day, sitting toward the back, and a dad was standing up and rocking a tiny little baby back by the doors. Sylvia tracked his every movement. She begged to hold the baby (she is very, very fluent in gesture) and kept singing the rockabye baby song. She was so concerned when he left and took the baby out into the foyer. And the other day I was in Toys-R-Us with the kids and I heard Sylvia desperately asking for something. I looked around to see what of the gazillion shiny things around me had caught her eye, and lo and behold, it was a mom across the aisle with a tiny baby in an Ergo. She's a sweet little mama, my daughter. I think all of my grandchildren will be lucky ones.

1 comment:

  1. I knew my grandchildren would be the lucky ones, and they are.