Exploring the Limits of the Earth

"Can I climb this?" Lauren said.  I looked over.  The item in question was a chicken wire covered chicken tractor, which would probably, but not absolutely, hold her weight.
"No," I said.
"Why?" she asked, because that is the stage we're in.
Later, she was swinging the punch balloon that Sydney had gotten her for her birthday around.  Sydney was tired of being pummeled by her sister and suggested that Lauren could have "something else to punch" for her birthday.  With a mischevious glint in her eye, she asked:
"Can I hit you with this?"
"No," I said.
"Can I hit the chair with this?"
"Yes," I said.
"Can I hit Hoolio with this?" Hoolio is our cat. 
"No."
"Can I hit the wall with this?"
"Yes."
"Can I hit Daddy with this?"
"No."
"Can I hit Sydney with this?"
"No."
"Can I hit myself with this?"
"....yes.  I guess so."  So she did.

Reflections on Two

For the past two years Lauren has made it clear that she is an entirely different child than her sister.  Sure, there are similarities-- they both like olives, for instance.  But Lauren adores milk, and her sister barely tolerates it.  Lauren climbs up structures with impunity; Sydney is still tentative about the potential gravitational implications.  Sydney made a leisurely crawl towards walking, finally deciding to do the deed when she was around 18 months; Lauren was up and running at 9 months.  Sydney's language skills are spectacular, but she would wait until she could fully pronounce a word before trying it out publicly for the first time.  Lauren just barges right in with sometimes less than stellar results, but immensely long and complicated sentences.

So we've arrived at Two and that's precisely what we have.  We don't have two babies anymore, or even a baby and a kid; we have two blond, slight, actively curious, highly intelligent, completely different kids. 

Lauren has been traveling backward per the recommendation of the Car Seat Expert people, who actually recommend that you keep your child riding backwards until they leave for college, which I find would be awkward for many reasons, not the least of which it would be hard to explain to the driver's ed teacher why your child can only learn to drive in reverse.  But recently she has been emphatically reminding us that everyone else is riding forward, by saying, petulantly, "I don't see that!" whenever I mention a cow or a pretty tree or something interesting passing by our car.

So yesterday, for her second birthday, acknowledging that she is no longer a baby, I turned her car seat around.  Now she's facing forward.  Let's not look back.