D2 Report

D2 Doing His Thing, a photo by elfinity on Flickr.

So, D2 is pretty hilarious to be around these days.
Of course, I may be biased (or sleep-deprived), but here are some choice scenes from D2's life.
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I fish him out of the tub (like I always do) and wrap him in the towel (like I always do), and ask him (like I always do), "Who did I catch?"
D2 usually says it like it is, naming himself, but this time he says, "Daddy!" and giggles.
I feign confusion and ask, "Really? I thought this was D2!"
He says, "No! Daddy!" and is really cracking himself up at this point.
I poke and prod him, eliciting more giggles, and say, "That's strange. I was looking for D2, not Daddy."
D2 - dying by now - says, "NO! DADDY!"
Later on, he graciously confessed that it was indeed him, without any further prodding from me.

***
D2: "BIIIIIIG BOOOOOOHHHH!"
Big Bro, aka D1: "Yes, D2?"
D2: "Hm… -smiles sociably- Funny."
That was it. He was just making small talk.

***
Toilet training D2 has been… interesting. He sort of wants to do the big boy thing and use the potty, as long as it doesn't, you know, involve the actual using of the potty. Like, sitting, taking off his diaper, that sort of thing. Other than that, he's all for it.
He even tries to potty train his stuffed animals. After one unsuccessful attempt, I looked away for a moment, and when I looked again, I see D2 holding his cow over his potty, the same way I hold him in place (because he sits down, realizes where he is and tries to wriggle up). He even bopped heads with it the way I do to reassure D2 when he's (not quite) sitting on the potty. After a minute, he took the cow off, flipped it upside down, sighed heavily, and toddled off, cow under his arm. I guess the cow didn't make water, either.

***
If I need to get D2 out of my hair for a spell, like when I'm making dinner and he's whining around my legs, I just tell him that I think we need to clean the floor. The boy rushes for his toy vacuum cleaner and occupies himself with the OCD task of vacuuming the floor for up to half an hour. I mean… part of me wishes we actually got him a real vacuum cleaner, 'cause then we'd have the cleanest floor in the county, but part of me worries that we are going to have a King of Janitors on our hands. The boy's been obsessed with vacuum cleaners and brooms since forever (and, please understand, we are not). Incidentally, do you know how hard it was to find a toy vacuum cleaner that is NOT pink? Domestic labor gender stereotypes much?