Vignettes * Two!

"Happy Birthday, Robskertunia! How old are you today?" I asked my littlest Floof. He giggled in response. "Are you two years old?" I prompted, holding up the appropriate number of fingers. More giggling.

.

Joseph's choice in radio programs while driving Edward to preschool this morning involved some discussion of grandparents. Robert, who went along for the ride, felt inspired by the discussion to announce (repeatedly): "I love Grandma!" This, it should be noted, was before he'd even opened presents (or, indeed, was even aware that they existed: Edward's the one who dutifully keeps tabs on every package that arrives in the mail). That's love, folks.

.

"How old are you, Robert?" I tried again. "Old!" was the reply. "Well, you're getting there. You're two years old today!" I showed him my two fingers, and he giggled as he tried to make his fingers comply with this strange new sign.

.

A heavy storm broke out for the duration of the drive to and from picking up Edward from preschool. The boys didn't seem to mind, as the puddles were particularly splashy.

While driving home, Robert petitioned to watch "Sass-me Street" during lunch. Edward seconded the motion: "I love 'Sesame Street!' I just want to watch it all the time!"

"Well," I said as I eyed the storm clouds dubiously, "that sounds like a good plan, though it doesn't look like we have much of a sunny day today. Someone must have forgotten to sweep the clouds away."

This oversight made Edward rather indignant: "Who forgot?!" he demanded to know. Upon reflection, however, his indignation abated a little as he realized something: "Oh. I think it was me."

.

"How old are you, Robskers?" I asked Robert as we pulled into the apartment parking lot. "Two!" Robert obligingly offered. He was, however, quickly cut off by his brother: "No, you're not! You're one!"

"Yes, he's two years old today, Floofs. How old are you, Edskers?"

"No! I don't have any numbers on me!"

I sighed. "How old are you, Robskers?"

"One!" He replied with a giggle.

.

For the sake of commemoration, we include here a list of Robert's favorite things on the planet. These things include: Blanket, Frog, splashing in puddles, and garbage. Yes, garbage. While I admire the flowers and Edward admires the bugs and cars on our walks, Robert scours the streets and sidewalks for evidence of garbage. He's a little obsessed. Two weeks ago, when Joseph and I dragged the boys along on a four-mile hike, we got him to walk almost the whole way by letting him help pick up litter on the trail. Just call him Captain Planet.

.

"How old are you, Robert?"

"No! I dohn have een [any] numbahs!"

.

The cake. *Sigh* Don't even get me started. Maybe I'll devote a separate post to it in a day or two, when I've stopped weeping over the disaster. I mean, it tasted fine and all, but... Well, we'll just say my shattered expectations are in too many pieces to collect into a sensical description at present.

.

"Happy Birthday, Robert!" cried Benjamin, our four-year-old neighbor, from outside while Robert and I hung up laundry on our patio clothesline. "Happy Birthday, Benjamin!" Robert returned the greeting. "We have a present for you, Robert!" Benjamin continued excitedly. "Oh!" cried Robert, "thank you so much!"

.