I read an article once about how younger siblings are often quieter, drowned out by older siblings.
Not the case with you, sir. Your sister is a chatterbox and you compete for attention with your own gift of gab and volume. Your “Gigi,” my Grams, told me that Gramps didn’t talk at all until he was 3-years-old and then “wouldn’t shut up.” You never hesitated.
You’re stringing words together by the twos and threes. We think you’re even more articulate than Eliza when she was your age. You can brag about that. In the past day, some highlights have been “Dada watch me” before flipping onto a pile of couch pillows and “ZZ pet Greta” as a command to have your sister help you trap Greta for fur pulls. You can also say “awesome!” which is awesome.
You’re at that temporary stage swinging between baby and toddler behaviors. You still want to be held like a baby and take a bottle near sleep times. You otherwise want to spend time running everywhere possible, especially outside. Walking is for the weak. You run circles around the house, rain or shine, dressed or undressed, and usually barefoot. Out the back door, around the side yard and back up the steps to the front door you go. Over and over. You demand fresh air and the wilderness of the yard. At your size, it must feel like running on an open plain.
With all this action you get banged up throughout the day in your kid-like activities, scraping a knee or bumping your head. In the moments of reaction you revert back to crying for baby-like snuggles until you feel better 3-5 seconds later. Then you shoot out around the corner of the yard again.
I recommend you keep some affinity for cuddling and snuggling as you become a kid and eventually a man. While it’s not associated with the false images of masculinity you’ll see out in the world, it’s a strong point of connection with the people you share those moments with. And right now, your Mom and I like being on the other end of that.
And usually, in those cuddly moments, you’re quiet. Eventually you’ll also learn that quiet times of connection speak louder than words.
Love, Dad