Anymore, I'm not surprised.

The closer Jude climbs to two years old... the more he starts to get this personality. This personality that is at times hilarious.... and at other times... not so much.

I think it's safe to say that we're dabbling in the terrible twos. That inability to always communicate effectively what it is that he exactly wants is without a doubt creating frustration. Frustration for Jude. Frustration for me. We both have to often times take a step back from the situation and try to approach it in a new way to understand what it is exactly he's asking for. For example, pointing at the counter can mean a variety of things. It leaves me asking "what do you want off the counter?" After continued pointing and grunting I have to ask "That bit of food? That utensil? That book?" still more grunting, more mumbling, more pointing and I realize he wants to GET ON THE COUNTER! OHHHH that makes total sense... because... you know... we sit on the counter all the time... sike.

But alas, we understand one another most of the time. I know what his little rants typically are about and I know what his faces are saying and the meaning they hold.

For example, today. We are sitting on the floor of my bedroom after our shower as we typically do. We're pointing at his books and he's laying out his towel like a picnic and we're just 'chatting'. I haven't completely dressed yet and he comes over to sit in my lap. Then he makes a face. A face that I know implies a bit of disgust. His soft little hands are rubbing my lower leg and I realize that I haven't shaved in... oh... you know... a good three days. He says eww and gets off my lap. Clearly he is not impressed.

And then of course there's his crayons. He loves to color and will doodle non-stop. He scribbles with his different colors and as he grabs a new one he'll run over to me with it in hand to ask what color it is. "What's this?" or "this?" or a simple pointing will do. So, as usual I'm busy doing whatever-it-is-that-moms-do while he's scribbling. This particular time he's running around bare butt (potty training is something we would love to happen) and he hands me his crayon. It's one of the old crayons that poppop gave him that filled an old coffee can. It's not the bright, fun colors from the crayola box, so it left me thinking for a second. Would I say it's a yellow? a gold? a brown? But before I respond, I realize he's not asking me what color it is. You see, he had pooped on the floor... scooped a little bit up with his crayon and brought it over to let me know. It was my turn to say eww.

But clearly... we understand one another.