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Nov 2, 2009

Declaration of Independence

Gavin is almost two, a fact which he asserts during every waking moment of his existence. This is both wonderfully endearing and extremely vexing, the yin and yang of toddlerhood.

Our littlest boy is delightful, charming, articulate, affectionate, and coordinated. He loves toy cars and books and puzzles and the great outdoors. He tries to help in every possible way, and even at his tender age, he can identify emotions and look out for others.







He is also very, very stubborn, and he insists on doing everything HIMSELF.

"I do it."
"I help me."
"Self. Self. Self."
"Gavin help self."
"Gavin help me."
"Gavin do it."

Get the picture?


I actually really love that he likes to do things on his own. He can put on and take off his clothing, get himself a drink, wash his hands, find snacks, fasten buckles, and get in his car seat. The trouble comes when he employs his abilities in scaling kitchen drawers like a ladder, climbing on the bathroom sink, wriggling out of the car seat and stroller, spilling water all over the kitchen floor, dumping sugar in the corners of the pantry, and trying to carry Lexi around. He is a man on a mission. Very few things impede his progress when he has fixed his mind on a goal. This is a quality that should come in handy as an adult!

The fact that Gavin communicates so well is a constant source of amusement and amazement in our household. He can copy anything we say, and he is always spouting off new phrases that he has picked up from the family vernacular. I love to hear the new words he picks up on a daily basis. My favorite Gavin phrase: "blowing kisses."

When he saw this picture of Russell, his beloved stuffed bear, he said, "Russell! Aw....Russell bwoken. Give Russell hug." He is right -- Russell's arms and head are coming off. Fixing the bear buddy is on my list today.

Gavin is not-so-gently reminding me that he'd rather his mother not be sitting at the computer desk. Now he's trying to spin my chair. Now he's perched behind me, his arms wrapped around my neck, chanting "Get down, get down!" The two-year-old really rules the house.
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