When I woke up yesterday morning, Noah was singing Smash Mouth‘s Allstar so clearly, I thought it was his older brother. I quickly grabbed our new Kodak zi8 (a family gift to celebrate our wedding anniversary!) Here he is, singing a much quieter, shyer version, but I like his intuitive finale—raising his shirt. An authenthic rock star move, wouldn’t you say?
He is becoming increasingly independent. While his big brother runs directly to the action (hi! Can I play?) Noah always marches to his own drum, all the while observing the other children. Inevitably, they are observing him too, and often try to come join his game or project. (He’ll gladly welcome them, as long as they don’t try to touch his toys!) At school, if Noah is dancing, he soon has a crowded dancefloor around him; but, before long he’ll duck out and run off to find his next solo adventure.
His new mantra is: “I do my by self!”
He doesn’t want anyone to help him, but he hasn’t quite got the grammar down to express it. I haven’t been correcting him because it always cracks me up, and besides, I know he’ll soon get it right. I still miss “I can’t want it!”, his older brother’s past retort from younger days.
And while I am trying to teach him the difference between wildflowers and manicured landscaping, I adore his habit of always wanting to give me a “fwower.” He picks it “wif my stwong muscles” and expects me to put it behind my ear—always delivering it with a kiss. Ahh, he steals my heart every day.