Cohen is now officially two and half.
So we are have way through the "terrible twos" now.
However, I've heard three is something else...but that's for next year...
He amazes me at the things he picks up. For example, we were playing outside and heard some bird chirping that sounded like an owl. Cohen insisted, "Mama! Owl! Hoo hoo!" That's some serious connecting my little man!
Lately he's really been into parroting what other people say. Sometimes it is all fine and dandy. Other times, well, let's say I probably want to duck and cover.
For example, Monday after school we were doing our afternoon call to Dad in the car. As I ended the call in my car, it will say over the speakers "Call Ended" in a seductive British voice none other. Cohen then immediately repeats, "Call ended!" Made me laugh out loud a bit.
Then, last week on the way home he serenaded me to a lovely sing along with Mumford and Sons. There's something about a two year old's singing voice that hits that sweet spot. My heart is still melting.
Tonight as we are getting ready for bed, I was brushing his hair in the mirror. Every night since the kid has had hair long enough to brush, I ask my husband which way to part his hair. He then reassures me by taking the comb and saying "This way." So, tonight Cohen decided he wanted to brush his hair. He starts to brush it, then stops and looks at us and says, "This way?" Precious, seriously.
However, like I mentioned earlier, this "Parrot Syndrome" isn't always cute. Last Thursday I went to pick up Cohen from his sitter and she informed me that he told her several times after he pooed, "Tara, I sh*t."
I was shocked! Let's get this straight - never in my life has my husband or I said to him or referred to his poo as the s-word. I thought, maybe she misheard him? I mean, he does have a cute little lisp right now which makes you question some of his words.
Well, don't worry. As soon as we got home he decided to make a big ol' poop (in his big boy underwear my I add -- double vomit). So I laid him down to clean it up and as I'm cleaning up the mess he says, "Mama! I sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!"
Flustered I tell him, "Cohen, we don't use that word. That's naughty."
He continues, "Sh*t! Sh*t!"
Realizing that when I acknowledge him saying the word it makes it worse - I try to distract him with a new one. So I tell him, "Boo yeah! I'm all done cleaning up!"
We continued to use boo yeah the rest of the night.
Tonight as we're winding down for the night on the couch, he looks at Kurtis, pinches his cheeks and yells, "Boo yeah!"
Well, it's better than sh*t, right?
Happy TWOSday! :)