Isn’t it funny that we write things on checks that we rarely write during the rest of life? Where else would you find yourself writing out “ninety-eight one hundredths” (even if you usually write it as “98/100”)?

And where or when else would you find yourself writing out – or listening to – things like “I’m not a pretzel, I’m just a boy!” than as the parent of a small (soon to be not-so-small) boy or girl?

The feeling of heart-swelling-burstiness has not reduced, and there are so many great lines that Shakespeare or Brecht or Ibsen or SOMEONE should want to come back and be inspired by them.

Auntie Em visited the other week, and she and Girl went to the Post Office, among other places, and returned with two heart-shaped lollipops. These inspire madness and begging, and if someone could find a way to harness the build up of desire in small children when candy is mentioned (shown, offered, hinted at), we wouldn’t need to search for any more alternative energies. We’d fuel the world.

Or just a lot of stickiness. Girl chomped through hers, but Boy lingered over his. When I had had enough of his lollipop, I took it away – roughly when his sister was done, so they were both empty-handed. He took it well, and life went on. Hours later, he began to pretend-cry, and we wondered what he was going to say: “ah-hunh-hunh-hunh…[he continued in his “I’m being funny” voice] I’m so sad – I can’t eat my lollipop anymore!”

The other day, looking outside, he said, in his sweet serious voice, “I don’t see any birdies anywhere!”

At dinner, he dripped water from his water bottle onto his feet and said, “I spilled some water on my piggy wiggy toes!” (Much like with Girl, we laugh about how a two-year-old should be able to use two to four word sentences. Check!)

This is all a far cry from these favorites from just two months ago, when words were often repeated within a sentence and lots of words had “uh” added at the end, like “Daddy-uh”:

1/18: I will get boogie out nose.
1/19: Let me peel baleema self! (baleema=banana, except when baleema = vitamins)
1/20: Daddy sit you us.
Nannie has tiger, too.
Mama turn on light on, Mama!
In response to “What are you doing?”:
1/21:  Just picking nose out boogie-uh.
2/6: I’m busy day. I’m just doing puzzle, Daddy-uh.
I’m just working this, Daddy (about Daddy’s knee scooter, which was a great source of fascination and requests for rides, while it was needed).

But my favorite, one that’s been around a while, is usually said with joy, with a wee-boy head rested on a mama shoulder: “My mama hold-ee B– Boo!” He often asks to be picked up that way, and he says it with great satisfaction and contentment when he’s been picked up.

Lest Boy get all the glory here, Girl has been holding her own, language-wise. The other day, she told me that Boy was “trudging into the living room.” She also told Daddy that Boy was “gazing up at your foot!” when he was, indeed, lying on his back on the floor, looking up at Daddy’s becasted foot which stuck off the aforementioned knee scooter.

And finally, from 1/20, too: “I love you as much as the stars are bright!” My heart blazed extra that day.

It’s too bad there’s no memo line for life. I’m ninety-eight one hundredths sure I’d remember to use it.