Today our baby turns two. My sweet, good-natured Vivian who seems to have heard through the sweet-baby grapevine that with 2 comes trouble. Lately she's been practicing her posessed-by-Zuul routine: bouts of rage complete with screaming, writhing, and the occasional attempt at biting the flesh of whomever is offending her at that moment. She's also been exercising her new-found ability to remove her clothing at will. Want to change her diaper and/or her clothes? Good luck. And those cute new shoes you want to put on her feet? Fat chance!
I don't mean to say that Viv's no longer her sweet self. Her smile still lights up a room. When she blows kisses everyone within a 1-block radius dives to catch them. Her voice is spun from sugar and her cuddles are as snuggly as they come. She's recently 'attached' to a lovey. It's a tan-colored square
of fabric with a stuffed puppy head on one corner. It's her 'Doggie'
and it's typically pretty disgusting because she won't let go of it long
enough for me to wash it. Pretty cute.Viv is talking more and more, although we're the only ones who can understand most of what she says. Wishfully thinking that she was starting to act 'ready' we bought her a potty for her birthday. We brought it out early because she acted like she was interested in using the potty like her big brother Gavin does. But Gavin pees standing up. So far we've cleaned 3 poops and 4 pees off the floor and the potty has remained dry.
Speaking of her big brother, there is nobody Viv would rather hang out with and emulate than Gavin. If he does it, she does it too. And the affection goes both ways. When Gavin colors a picture (one of his favorite pastimes) he signs his name, and half the time writes hers on it too. Watching the two of them play together is one of my favorite things in the world. Until the screaming starts.
