elinor at 17 months

e and papa i just noticed that our little peanut has somewhat commandeered the blog content this week.  i suppose that is fitting, she does that to most everything.

hey, let's roll with it, shall we?  how about we talk {even more} about elinor?  rhetorical question.

seventeen months sure does look good on E.  she is coming into her own more and more.  shedding what's left of her infant demeanor and revealing a little person.  and that little person has a big personality.  effervescent, witty, intelligent, curious, persnickety, imaginative and inventive, entertaining and funny.  oh, and so chatty!

she likes her own "seeeeaaaaat".  her own space.  when she climbs up onto the couch or bench or chair, she owns it.  she spreads a blanket, arranges pillows, sorts her toys, and generally takes over.  she doesn't want a dog there.  she is quite choosy about her stuffed animal companions.  and she really doesn't like to chill there with mama.  but, papa?  he is welcome.  they have this unspoken seat club.

she makes it known when she needs a fresh diaper.  either by guiding me to her room and opening the diaper drawer or by grabbing one from her bag and bringing it to me with her wipes.  okay, then.  perhaps potty training will be a breeze.  a mama can hope...

she is a sensitive soul.  she is aware and in tune with her surroundings and the needs and feelings of others.  she is watchful of my expressions and tone.  and she will respond with an extra measure of tenderness if she senses that something is wrong.  i really need to be mindful of this.  drama queen that i am.  i have caught myself in a disproportionate response to something and had to correct it so that elinor doesn't think something is wrong.  if i squish my face or use a sad tone, she responds.  she shifts her tone.  she grabs my face and pats my cheek, giving me a sweet and reassuring head nod. woah.

she has forged the cutest relationship with her furry buddies.  she cares for them and genuinely likes them.  when we arrive home, the first thing she does once we hit the door is point to the "doggie room" for us to release them.  she guides us to the laundry room and informs us that the "daaah-gies" are in there and helps us let them loose.  she then squeals "cuh-co, cuh-co!" with such glee and escorts them to the backyard so they can roam and go potty.  and when their water bowl is empty, she picks it up and takes it to the fridge with an assertive "waaaah-waaaah" so we will fill it.  so watchful and caring. 

she twirls.  and twirls and twirls until she is dizzy and topples.  and then she giggles on the floor and gets up and at it again.

she is a goofball, so entertaining.  she babbles and tells us jokes.  we may not always understand them, but man.  the girl knows how to work a punchline.  and she loves trying out her comedic material at dinnertime.  our meals are always punctuated with her humorous tales and laughter.

she says papa and still refuses to say mama.  and she knows who i am.  she knows how to say it.  but, this is our little power struggle.  sheesh.

she loves the itsy-bitsy spider song.

she picks her nose to make us laugh.

she is learning to fold her hands in prayer and wait patiently before eating.

she is an intrepid explorer of the great outdoors and the great indoors.  she inspects the grand and insignificant.  she marvels at it all.

she sucks her thumb when she is sleepy.

she is a maven of physical comedy. dancing and flopping around and gesturing.  making 'em laugh a la donald o'connor. and she perfectly pairs each movement with a parker posey-esque "wooooaaaah".  {a reference too obscure? waiting for guffman? teacher's pet? anybody? bueller, bueller?  you get it, whitehouse fam. moving on.}

she likes to help with household tasks like taking out all the towels and bowls.  she methodically stacks and puts items in boxes and containers.  she has a plan in that little head of hers.  and once she has her collection just right, she proudly parades around the house with her handiwork.

she likes to count in a sing-song voice as she walks up the stairs.

she has moves.  a funny little squat-dance and the moonwalk {self-taught and so awesome} and this hopping-jumping-clapping thing that is bound to take the dancefloor by storm one day.

she loves and needs her sleep and solitary time.  a solid 12 + hours at night and two rest times during the day.  she loves her morning nap, a solid 2 hour sleepfest.  and in the afternoon, when she is done with me, she grabs her snuggles blanket and her books and heads to the stairs.  that's my cue.  i escort her to her room and she gets into her bed for her quiet time.  she reads to herself, sometimes quietly and sometimes aloud.  and she might catnap for 30 minutes or so.  she is comfortable and confident in her own skin.  she has preferences and needs and knows how to communicate them.  she is so strong and transparent.  i hope she cultivates that.

she says uh-oh when something naughty happens or a mistake is made.

she applauds at the end of every song or whenever there is a dramatic pause of some sort.

she is the cutest darn mischief-maker you ever did meet.  she tests the limits.  she stares us down.  and before she engages in forbidden behavior she pauses and shoots us a sassy look before shaking her head "no".  she knows.  she knows much too much.

she loves books.  especially olivia and peter rabbit.  oh, and tolkien.  seriously.  she plucks all the tolkien books from their spots on the bookshelves and brings them to us to read.  nerd.

she loves to draw and create and make a mess. 

and she also loves to clean up and organize and put away.

she is sugar and spice.  and we sure do like her a lot.

 

curator