I believe last I wrote, Nicole wasn’t even walking yet. She is now walking, running, and destroying everything in her path. Hence her nickname, Hurricane Cole. She goes from room to room, dumping items from the toy bins, my diaper bag, anything with dumping capabilities. She sits in her lion-themed booster seat surreptitiously flinging cheerios with reckless abandon when she thinks I’m not looking. She tips bowls full of macaroni off her tray when I am looking. She steps on the cereal that litters our floor after mealtimes, smiling gleefully at the satisfying crunch. She carries her bottles up-side-down around the living room, grinning mischievously as the milk drips out onto the floor. And when she is not smiling gleefully or grinning mischievously, Nicole is laughing her low, distinctive laugh. It’s not really a giggle, perhaps more of a loud, throaty, chortle. Her laugh is so out of place on a tiny one year old that it throws us all into fits of hilarity. It almost makes up for all the messes I have to clean up. Almost.
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| Hurricane Cole and the Chili Graffiti |
At her 15 month well baby visit, the doctor was surprised, but not concerned, by Cole’s lack of verbal skills. Dr. Buffa suspects that because she is so proficient in non-verbal communication, she has little need to speak. I couldn’t agree more.
It amazes me how much that little girl can say without saying a word. The other day she came up to me and raised her chubby little arms in the air. It was obvious that she wanted to be picked up, and I obliged. She grinned, clearly pleased. I grinned back. That was easy.
Then she looked at me, grunted, and pointed in the direction of the kitchen. Her majesty needed a ride. I took her into the kitchen and put her down. She walked over to her booster, pushed it out from under the table, and tapped the seat with her index finger. After I secured her in her seat, with her bib and tray in place, I got a box of Kix Cereal out of the pantry. I held the box out for Nicole to see. She shook her head slightly. I touched the crackers, the cheerios, and a container of pureed green beans. With each item she shook her head more vigorously and began to yell. I finally held out a container of applesauce. Nicole stopped crying immediately, and a smile reappeared on her face. The queen, it seemed, was pleased, if only momentarily.
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| The Queen in her Throne |
Though Nicole is the master of non-verbal communication, our house is far from quiet. Allison continues to talk enough for the both of them. One of her more memorable quotes as of late: “When I grow up I’m going to be a princess. Or a mail carrier.”
You can’t say she’s not ambitious. Until next time...
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| Allie practicing to be a princess (or a mail carrier) |
