Nephew neepery

I also spent time with my two-year-old nephew this weekend, and I find myself wanting to get down in words who he is in this particular time and place, perhaps because by the time I see him next he’ll in many ways (but not all ways) have moved on to being someone else.

He’s fond of dinosaurs and dancing, of things that swim and of things that have wheels. Big dinosaurs (“Big raaahr-raaahr! Big raaahr-raaahr!”) especially bring him a fierce sort of joy.

He knows the power of naming things. There’s joy in that too.

He knows more than he knows how to tell us. Sometimes that frustrates him, but other times he’ll talk to his toys or himself, his words and thoughts and stories all impenetrable, content to be holding a conversation no one else hears.

When he’s angry his words become impenetrable too. He feels things fiercely, and that fierceness doesn’t leave anything over for puzzling out words. Words are work, after all.

He doesn’t like when people leave without warning, Mommy and Daddy especially. But he’s beginning to understand that people who leave do come back.

He gives excellent hugs, but only on his own terms. “No” is a word of power, and he isn’t afraid to use it.

He loves gravity, or the effects of gravity, anyway. He understands the humor in dumping out a full bucket of toys–or of anything else.

He is a serious Wiggles fanboy. He likes magic markers more than crayons, water with bubbles more than without it. He knows the names of animals and muppets.

He has things to do. He’s very busy.

He has a great laugh. And a wonderful sly smile.

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