Terrible Twos, Terrific Twos

Two is right around the corner at our house. With a vengeance. Our sweet, quiet baby is turning into quite the screech monster. And don't get me started on the hitting. I try to remind myself that this is as frustrating for her as it is for me, but after prying her off my legs 30 times in as many minutes while cooking dinner, I tend to lose sight of that.

One of the upsides of two is being able to let her go out to play with her brothers and sister. One of their favourite things right now is going down our small hill in the backyard in one of their cars. Sometimes they go down on a tricycle-type one. Josh's main problem with this one is getting off. He always catches his leg on the the handlebars. And falls down. Onto the horrible ground that meanly sticks to his hands and pants. And he cries. Because to my kids, this is the end of the world. I was watching him out the kitchen window the other day and watched this scenario play out. For the umpteenth time. This time, however, Liesie was at the bottom of the hill. She walked over and started brushing off his pants. Then she grabbed his hands and brushed them off. She followed this up with a big hug. I forgot that two has some sweet moments, too.



She isn't much of a talker. She still won't say Caleb or Mischa. To fill in some important gaps (milk, cookies, ketchup, french fries), I've been teaching her sign language. So imagine my surprise this morning as the bus pulls up.
"Bus!"
"You're right, sweetie, bus!"
We start trudging up the hill home.
"The bus is yellow."
"Elow"
Woo hoo, on a roll now! I point to her coat- "Pink".
She looks at me.
"Say 'pink'".
She points to the coat.
Falling back on a now known, I ask her to say yellow again.
She points to the now leaving bus.
Snot face.