Patrick is learning so many words and phrases we can hardly keep up. Sometimes in the morning he talks to himself in his crib. Recently his morning "conversation" consisted of a rundown of his various balls: "football, basketball, tennis ball, soccer ball..."
When we were out driving the other day he was running though the phrases he must hear 100 times a day: "don't drop it," "be nice," and "don't rip it." He's also picked up the phrase "happened," which has multiple applications--spaghetti spilled on the floor, a shoe fell off, a balloon floats up to the unreachable heights of the stairwell. He'll look at me and sheepishly say "happened."
A great many of his phrases are related to balloons, and the various fates that can befall them: "let it go," "way up high," "reach it," and "don't pop it." Basketball also has a well-developed vocabulary, with Patrick constantly wanting to "dunk a ball" and have us set the hoop "higher" at a level that is more appropriate for "big kids." He's even learned the hand motion for calling "time out."
He's learning that he is his own man, and as a result I've gotten a lot of "Patrick do it" and "self" comments as he pushes my hand away when I try to help him walk down the stairs or get up into his high chair. He takes great delight in sharing "Mommy bites" and "Pac-rick bites" and offers me everything from sodden "chips" (he always wants the "whole bag") to half-licked cupcakes.
He loves reading books, which is a joy, especially when he says "lap" and gives us a book and says"read it." Donald thinks there's nothing better than when Patrick says "I love you," but I most love when he hands me a basketball and says "Mommy dunk it." I live in dread of the day he discovers I am not the athlete he thinks I am.
