Nathan turns two, and he won’t keep quiet

Two-year-olds are funny creatures.  The are almost like butterflies as compared to caterpillars, a beast of a completely different nature.  They develop personality.  They develop actual memory.  They sort of become real people.  And it is a scary thing.  And its a giant pain in the ass.

I have to say, the absolute funniest thing about Nathan, my two-year-old son, is his constant narrative.  He reminds me of Peter Griffin from an episode of Family Guy where Peter begins to narrate his life, and gets punched out by his wife.  I guess its the exploration of language that drives them.  At first, when he was one, he would repeat what he saw on his DVD’s, repeat sounds, repeat words, count, read the alphabet, as if he were absorbing the knowledge by rolling everything around on his tongue.

But at two, its no longer about repetition.  Its about expression.  And more than “Nathan wants milk” or “Nathan hungry”.  Its more than needs or wants, its about exploration.  Its about interaction with his environment.  Its about his own actions and his own body.   

What comes about of his mouth is a continual narrative of what he is body and what is happening to him as he gets comfortable with language.  He is very rarely quiet.  When he plays, its “Nathan play with train table” or “Nathan reading book” or “Nathan kick the ball”.  When he’s frustrated and give that little fake cry, he’ll say “Nathan crying”.  When he eats, he tells you what he is eating as well as the color and anything else interesting about it.  When he’s climbing or falling or running or jumping, he lets you know.  Oftentimes many times.

But Nathan’s favorite word right now is “can’t”.  As in “I can’t reach it” or “I can’t find it”.  Only when he says can’t, does he use the word “I” instead of his name.  It’s funny.  It’s not a negative thing, but the opposite.  It’s the realization of limitations and the expression of the need for help from others for non-essential things.  It’s also very funny.

The only downside to all of this is that he is never quiet.  Not anymore.  Its that time, when broken sentences and poor structure slowly evolve into coherent thoughts, when language begins to becomes cemented in that little brain of his. 

Sometimes, when i look at my 3-week old daughter, who does nothing more than cry once in a  while and eat and spit up, I’m reminded of how lovely and relaxing relative silence was.  Not anymore. 

I’m thinking of getting a good pair of earplugs.  or staying away from the house longer.

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