Ben definitely has developed at his own pace, independent of how Evie did at and around his age, and it’s been, in a lot of ways, a great way to force us to notice and enjoy his own uniqueness. It’s great to see his own personality develop and come though, along with his own sense of humor. I think the thing we most enjoy is listening to him talk, in part because he’ll say the most surprising things and we’ll be like “when did you learn that word?!”
Some phrases in constant rotation:
“Dump truck!” and “Bigger dump truck!” He says this whenever he hears the distinct sound large trucks make and goes from one side of the house to the other to catch a glimpse of this elusive beast. The bigger dump truck bit refers to our waste management company upgrading either their recycling or waste trucks to the automated, larger ones.
“Mail truck” or “Cindy!” This is all interchangeable with UPS, FEDEX, USPS, and Amazon. Cindy is the name of our main mail carrier, with whom Evie likes to talk, and Ben generally assumes that she delivers all mail, regardless of the vehicle.
“Beautiful day.” This one is relatively recent and he said this for the first time completely out of the blue on an actual beautiful day. He says it so sweetly with his little toddler speech where he doesn’t really pronounce the T and it makes a beautiful day even better.
“What is that?” The first time he said this, he was climbing onto the couch, facing away from me, and music began playing from Evie’s school computer on the other side of the house, and he stopped what he was doing, looked back at me, and said, “What. Is. That?!” “I don’t know,” I replied. “Music,” he said confidently, and then abandoned the couch to run over to the the dining table to watch whatever was going on with Evie’s class.
“No time!” This is his general response when he doesn’t want to do something or he’s unhappy for whatever reason (whether injury or otherwise). This kid is, apparently, booked to the brim because he never has time for anything. James thinks he might be trying to tell us something, like the kid can see into the future, but that seems awfully terrifying, so I like to think he just has back to back meetings.
“1. 2. 8. 9. 8. 4.” This is a string of numbers he’s begun putting together. For the longest time, his favorite number was 4, but he’s begun to understand that there are others out there and that, perhaps, there’s an order to them. Sometimes it seems like he can count to 4 or 5, but other times, I don’t know. In my vivid imagination, this, too, is the start of a terrifying story, so we’ll go with James’ assumption that these are lotto numbers.