Evelyn is at the age now where she talks and talks and talks. Little makes sense, but more and more we are understanding her and she is understanding us. We still have not convinced her that an airplane does not say “Choo Choo.” She does, however, yell out “Airpane! Airpane!” minus the “L” when an airplane flies over. It reminds Christy and me both of the old Jeff Foxworthy joke.
The mornings are so much fun lately. Evelyn wakes up and is our alarm clock. She yells down the hall for us, “Mama Daddeeeee. Mama daddeeee.” I head down stairs to make her milk and she hears me, “Daddeeeee. Yaaaaayyyyy!!!” and claps her hands.
I come back up the stairs and she hears me again and starts calling for me. I call back and she laughs and laughs and laughs. Then, when I open the door to her room, she jumps up and down in her crib, clapping her hands, and laughs and talks. This morning she wanted to hold her pink bear until I had gotten her changed. “Eat, wanna eat,” she told me. I got her clothes on and her shoes, “shhoooooeeees. sooooooocks,” she says. She grabbed pink bear and I told her he could not go with us. “No, no Dadddeeeee. Bed. Go bed,” and she promptly threw pink bear back into bed. In midair Evelyn had changed subjects back to the pending matter, “now eat. now eat.” So we bounded down the stairs, Evelyn laughing all the way, to her milk. Her arms were stretched out before we even made it all the way into the kitchen.
“Dora!” she then exclaimed. Evelyn likes to watch Dora while drinking her milk. Of course Dora is not on, but Evelyn does not care. She wants to sit on the couch, read a book, and drink her milk. “Read it. Read it,” she says to no one in particular as she tries to sling her little leg onto the couch. I lift her up onto the couch to applause and “yyyaaaayyyy. Daddeee yay.” She ‘reads’ her book and watching some cartoon on Noggin while sucking down her milk.
“May-cin,” she tells me. I have not given her the antibiotic she’s been needing this week. She likes the taste. I head to the kitchen and come back with it in a dropper. She sucks it down and claps and cheers for herself — a habit Christy and I started doing to motivate her to take her medicine without fuss. She now does it every time she takes cough medicine, claratin, or any thing else in a dropper.
She hears Christy come down the steps, “Bye bye Daddy. Mama! Mama! Bye bye mama daddy.” And off the couch she propels herself, heading to the steps, for Christy to take her to daycare. On the way out she sees a book she wants to take with her in the care. “Book. Book. Peas. Book. Peas. Yaaayyy. Tan too.” Then she flips through the book, a book with pictures of her surrounded by Sesame Street Characters. On the way out, I ask for a kiss and she grins, leans out of Christy’s arms, and gives me a kiss.
And then it’s lonely in the house.