gothamwingard: Margot and Flynn turn 2.

Flynn and Margot are now two.

Margot continues to be an independent, curious and introverted little girl. (I’m so thankful there might be at least one more introvert in this family to keep me company . . . that is, when I want company . . ..) At two, Margot already has her own opinion about the clothes she’ll wear. In the morning when I pull clothes out of her drawer she makes it very clear if the outfit I’ve chosen is acceptable to her. She may not have many words yet (see more on that below) but she knows “no” and uses it often. Because her shoes and pajamas are kept in bins she can reach, she brings to me the shoes she wants to wear in the morning and the pajamas she wants to wear at night. Dora and Doc McStuffins are already her favorites. Because I’m the easy-going dad who can barely get himself dressed in the morning, she gets to wear whatever she chooses.

Margot likes to try new things; at grandma and grandpa’s house last month she was way more excited than Flynn to try out Coco’s scooter and bike with training wheels. She likes to play with our iPhones, playing games and watching PBS videos. She continues to be the helpful one, picking up things around the house that are not in their right place and pointing our any spills she might find (and she finds them frequently).

Flynn is a shy, cuddly and rambunctious little boy. His shy nature still surprises me. When someone he doesn’t know tries to talk to him he’ll immediately reach up to Daddy or Papa to be picked up and then – this is the interesting part, to me – he’ll turn his head away and pretend like the person simply isn’t there. It’s like he’s pretending that there’s something in the opposite direction that’s far more interesting and he’s been meaning to look at for quite some time. I guess it’s kind of like when you’re on the bus or the train going to work and a crazy person gets on; everyone simply pretends it’s not happening. That’s what Flynn does; he ignores the crazy person. It’s quite remarkable. At least he doesn’t burst into tears anymore.

Flynn really loves to be picked up, to be held and to cuddle. If Daddy or Papa is sitting down, then he wants to be in a lap. He also loves to climb and hang on to just about anything. He hangs on tables, on bathroom sinks. Just about anything he can hold onto that will hold his weight. His favorite sport is jumping on the bed. It brings him unbelievable joy. How is it that as a child you think jumping on the bed is the most obvious and natural purpose for a bed, yet as a parent you see jumping on the bed as the inevitable path to a cracked skull?

"You understand what I'm saying, right?"

Neither Margot nor Flynn are talking yet and, frankly, I’m getting impatient. They use a few basic words: “no” (but not “yes” - although Margot is very good at nodding “yes” while Flynn just grins if he agrees with whatever I’ve said), “up” “juice” “shoes” and “more” for example. And they’re both good with “Papa” (which they use interchangeably for both Daddy and Papa) and “Coco.” “Coco” they say all the time and frankly they seem to say it any time they see something that reminds them of Coco. Margot at least utters series of sounds and syllables that sound something like a sentence might sound if she knew words. And then she gives you this look like, “You understand what I’m saying, right?”

Flynn, on the other hand, is monosyllabic. He is also remarkably talented at shouting. He shouts for pure entertainment and he loves it when you shout with him -- and, yes, I like to shout with him because I also find it incredibly entertaining. In the morning Flynn shouts from his crib like a rooster crows to the morning sun, “Papa! Papa! Papa!” on and on until someone finally comes to release him from his crib of captivity. Margot is always awake as well, but she lets Flynn summon “the help.”

I’m not worried that they aren’t talking yet. They have an older sister who does all the talking for them and for everyone else in whatever room she’s in at the time. And of course they hear Spanish more hours than they hear English for five days a week and I’m sure they are still trying to sort that out in their little heads too. I wondered if maybe they were talking to Mari in Spanish and I’m was just missing out, but Mari confirmed that, no, they are using the same words with her that they use with me.

But I am impatient. I want them to start talking so that I can start talking to them. I want to hear what they’re thinking, what they have to say.

Last weekend, on the way from Port Angeles to SeaTac to fly home with all three kids and my mom (who was flying down to help me get the kids home after a month at "Camp Grandma and Grandpa" and then flying right back) Cornelia was as usual chatting from the back seat for nearly the entire trip, asking questions in her usual stream-of-consciousness way, making declaratory statements about whatever she was observing at the time, and singing to fill in any otherwise lulls in the conversation. Now, I love chatting with Cornelia and I take it as a personal challenge to answer any and all questions she asks as best as I can - which of course only encourages even more questions. (This morning on the way to school she asked if bats come from eggs. We looked it up on my phone at the train stop. They don’t. They’re mammals.) After nearly two hours of this banter I said to my mom (rhetorically), “What am I going to do when there are three of them talking to me from the backseat?”

Actually, I’m ready for it. I’m more than ready for it. Flynn and Margot, I’m ready to hear from you. Someday, a dozen or so years from now, maybe not so much; but today, I really want to hear what you have to say. I’m waiting, impatiently.