Clifford The Big Red #@$%
Natalie turns two years old this week. She's undeniably a toddler now and capable of all kinds of amazing physical feats compared to one year ago. But nothing drives home her "big girl" status quite like hearing her polysyllabic babel resolve into comprehensible English.
She enjoys playing "gatchu," which is a chase game that is effective at delaying bath- and bedtime. "Findyoo?" she asks while she is looking for something and when she sees it she exclaims, "foun'joo!" When Natalie is hungry she can ask for all of her favorite foods: sheerna, chi-cheese, and ca-cas. She is great with "please," "pankoo," and "welcome." She also is very prompt at letting us know when her snacks are "all gone." She even wished my mom a "happy [birth] day" over the phone.
"Mama back shoon," Natalie cries when Jenna drives away and leaves her stranded with me. "Daddy, num-nums, NO," she says firmly when I try to get her to eat. "Lola! Funny poop," she shouts, as she sticks her finger up the dog's butt. Of course the best part is when she unintentionally curses like a sailor. "Shirt" is pronounced "shit." And her word for Clifford, the big red dog, is "Fuck'ead." That one was a big hit at storytime.