Update from Elliot at 18 Months

Addendum 8-03-09
I forgot to tell y'all that I pretty much only eat with a fork like a little man. It is pretty messy, but it's so uncouth to eat with one's fingers.

Also, though my vocabulary has exploded I still haven't mastered some of the finer points of verbal discourse. For example: if something pokes me or falls on my foot while playing it is sure to get an earful from me, but that pretty much just involves pointing an accusing finger and a string of jibberish. It gets the point across, ya know?
Okay, here's the original update :).

Update from Elliot:
Howdy folks, we've got some ground to cover, so let's get down to business. I'm 18 months old now and woooooweee life is crazy! I have been talking a lot more. I have too many 'words' to keep track of but some of them are: fish, hi, bye (think cowboy accent and you're hearing the way I say bye.), good girl (that's for my dog Lady Mac), Lady, flower, banana, ball, egg, apple, thank you, airplane, truck, tractor, night night, leche (I prefer the Spanish to English here because mom has no problem telling what I'm talking about when I say leche--just doesn't sound like anything else.), water, outside, down, up, bath, triangle, circle, square, lion, monkey, bear...ok this is getting too long, you get the picture. I try to repeat anything and everything and then there are dozens of words I can say whenever. --all that I guess I could have said with "I am talking a lot lately." But, mom, ever the teacher, wanted me to list some off so she wouldn't forget. I love learning about letters (de ja vu anyone?) and shapes and colors. Those little board books with single words labeling colorful pictures were made for me; I spend a good bit of time with them every day.

So my dog Lady Mac and I are really good buddies. She's the baby of the family, not me, and that means that I can chase her, play with her and rough-house with her and I don't have to feel like the youngest around here. We love to run around the house: me screeching in delight and her not really sure if I'm going to attack or just run right by. I'm not too rough with her, so she alwyas comes back for more crazy playing. She's also a lot of fun in the yard, but she only listens when mom tells her to drop something, so I am always annoyed when she takes my ball from me. Guess I'd better learn how to intone the "DROP IT" like mommy does.

Gavin and I have a really good time these days, too. It is to be expected that the younger brother grows up a bit more rough-and-tumble than the older one, but I may be pushing that theory to new levels of danger. I have a pretty incredible record of daring acheievements already. It started with climbing several months ago (you'll remember my triumphant scaling of the dining room table several posts ago.) well, it has continued. I have been able to climb onto big beds for sometime now and they are ever so much fun to bounce on, and even moreso if Gavin is helping me. Sadly, however, they don't make them with safety nets and I've gotten numerous bonks. You'd think those injuries combined with mom's fussing would keep me grounded, but it's waaay to much fun to jump on the bed. I've also grown bored with simply sliding down our small play structure in the yard, it's much more fun now to run down the slide (yes, on my feet) and face-plant in the grass. Or even better, I like to go headfirst through the window-type openings and land on my head. Fear not, I'd never put myself in real danger, I've only got a few inches to fall each time and I like to push my physical body--just to see what it's capable of. Needless to say, we never ever put the playground on the concrete. And again, needless to say, mom is very hesitant to get a larger playset for our yard. Oh, and Gavin actively encourages these outbursts of irrational and dangerous behaviors on my part: he's been known to cheer me on ("Great running Elliot!") and give tips on how to make something even more hazardous ("Put your head through first!").

I am a baller. What does that mean you query? If there is a ball -- anywhere -- I must have it. I beg for them in the store, I whine for them in the car (even if it is a picture of a ball on a billboard; I. must. have. it.), I tackle Lady Mac for them in the yard, I chase Gavin for them in the house. I throw them and roll them and carry them around everywhere. I will sit motionless and watch kids at the park playing soccer or basketball. Did you catch that? Motionless!!! I'm never motionless, not even when I'm sleeping! We have a tyke sized basketball goal in our yard and I throw anything and everything through that basket. I've even started to whine and beg for basketball goals when I see them--even if they are the real deal and hundred miles above my head.

As I approach my two-year birthday, I am gaining an assertiveness [euphemism], but I'm still a really cheery little man. I'm super giggly and smiley. I love to go to the grocery story because there are lots of people to flirt with. I love playing with other kids and adults.

I'm so all about daddy these days. About an hour before he comes home each day I start looking for him and asking for him. And as soon as I see him out the front windows I let out a very loud and high-pitched "GAGA!!!" -- that's how I say daddy. He absolutely must hold me until he gets his dinner and then I scavenge food off his plate and don't let him out of my sight til bedtime. He's the best ever!

I am still working on getting rid of my pacifier. Ugh. It's the bane of my parents' life. I only use it for bedtime...and for in the car........and for when I'm generally cranky. Oh, dear. I guess I'm a little attached. Anyway, I won't be that kid with a paci at 12, but it may be a few more months.

Well, that's basically where I'm at. I'm a happy kid. I like to play. I like to laugh. I love my family. And I like my pacifier. Ha!

Cuidanse (take care of yourselves!),
Elli-bear (mom's latest nickname for me)