First, Cora has a definite lisp. I worked so hard to try and introduce and properly say the "S" sound with her. Its cute now, but she probably won't want to sound that way on a job interview in twenty years. Perhaps I should wait before I make dire predictions. Shes just now using combined and conjugated words.
Probably more regular than multi-word utterances are going bonk and getting stuck. Through the luck of genetics and natural taste, she is thin. If she stands still and sucks in her gut you can count her ribs and her pants fall off. At her two year appointment, the doctor was concerned about her abnormal thinness. He also seemed surprised that a mother actually cooked. Cora is also tall. She got nannys and her uncles long legs. When she runs, she goes FAST. She also is a little aucward. Its hard to have a high center of gravity (so my Mom and brothers tell me) especially when accompanied by a weight that is disproportionately small. She goes bonk alot more than the average two year old. of course, being her mother perhaps I'm just noticing her bonks more... nevermind.
She also gets stuck. Long and lean body lead up to a head thats pretty normal sized. The rest of herself can squeeze through chair arms, tight doorways and under safety gates... Till she tries to pull the noggin through.
Todays greatest adventure started with a bonk, but it wasn't very severe. It only required one quick kiss to heal before the toddler (crocodile) tears ended, and the blanky search began. Cora likes to mull over bonks with puppy and blanky, even after shes been bandaged, iced or kissed. She went off to search, and I finished the laundry and went to follow her upstairs.
Well, it turns out she didn't try and find the blanky upstairs. She tried to find the blanky in dads office. Dads office is not openly visible from the laundry machine. Instead, Mom, being thoughtful about the large quantities of sharp tools, chemicals, soaps and cat boxes, dropped the eye hook on the door from that half of the basement to the child proofed half.
In the mist of folding laundry, my house started crying. It was bawling so hard that it took me a while to figure out where the sound was coming from. Not in her room, not in mine, not in the nursery or the bathroom, it was....
Right below me! Downstairs, the slatted door I had so thoughtfully locked was sobbing in distress, and upon hearing my voice, the doorknob began to twist and pull. I slipped the bolt and dropped to the floor as quickly as possible. Anyone who has colided with a two year old who HAS to have hugs NOW, knows that regardless of their fly wheight status, they pack a pretty powerful punch. Their soul is in merging as closely with your arms as possible.
After the second bout of tears in two minutes had ended, Cora announced gravely, "I was th-tuck." She hiccuped and hugged a bit more to rub in the awefulness of her situation then pulled back a bit. "Banky and puppy." Her pensive expression for the next five minutes of deep sighs and thumb sucking was only interupted by her occassional hand checks for her thinking companions.
I'd feel alot better if she hadn't sent me those very thoughtful glances. Why can I imagine being eighty and feeble bodied and getting paid back for this little accident?