Coco is the sweetest thing. OK, so he has tantrums, is a picky eater, often throws food and drinks on the floor and tries to karate kick his way out of diaper changes. But other than that, he's just the sweetest thing. Tonight he was waddling around the kitchen pretending to be a chicken. I should have captured this on video, because I cannot possibly do it justice with the written word, but suffice it to say, I sat watching him with the biggest, dumbest smile on my face. We were doing dinner clean-up, KEXP playing in the background, and there was our baby chicken strutting around in his onesie, bawk-bawk-bawk.
When presented with fresh mango at dinner, in Coco-speak, he asked me, "Wassat?"
"Mango," I replied.
He popped it in his mouth and signed more... MORE!
Coco doesn't have loads of words, but after a couple of weeks at school, he has mastered "MINE," which is a useful word to know when you have a crafty older brother who regularly attempts to negotiate exclusive possession of all the best toys. Those being the ones Coco is holding, looking at or thinking about. Miiiiiiiiine!
Speaking of the big brother, Coco adores him. Sprout can trigger belly laughs merely by making a goofy sound and bugging his eyes. The two of them roll around together laughing, and it's music to my ears.The two of them take bubble baths together, too. Coco loves the bath, stripping his clothes off and trying valiantly to climb into the very tall tub himself. It's hilarious to watch him try to do everything. In his mind, he's as big and capable as us. In reality, he's a half-pint.
But for a half-pint, he's growing so fast. It's going by in a blur. Whenever I can, I hold him tight and encourage him to rest his head on my shoulder, snuggling it next to my neck so I can breathe deeply his babyness. It will be gone before I know it, replaced by a "big boy."
Three kids sounds like such madness to me. But there I was last night, feeling wistful, thinking about names again.
Someone, smack me.
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