Tootsie Tanner

Tanner turned two in February, and I swore that's when he'd start talking. However, the little dude has always had bigger fish to fry. He is so busy being a younger brother and being rough and tumble that he hasn't had any interest. Up until this week, that is.

In the past, he'd point at something and in a growly tone shout it's name louder and then louder until he heard you say it back to him. As if he was the one teaching you how to say the word.
Now, he's on to two word phrases. This morning he told Hunter "Hop in Weeds!" when waiting for his brother to join him in the tub. For those of you who don't know, Weedsie is Hunter's nick-name (The evolution being : Sweetie, then Weetie, then Weedie, then Weedsie, and finally weeds).

He still hops when he walks and his little poof on the top of his head still won't lay down even after applying "hard hold" gel. It only makes the poof spiky. He still sucks his thumb but usually only when he's getting snugly on mine or Tim's chest. He still yells "I yough you" (I love you) before nap time while holding out his hand and tucking in his pinkie finger (as if to sign the I love you sign).


He still needs to be right next to Hunter. They are a little tag team, two peas in one rowdy pod. Yesterday, for our "canal walk" (okay, more like a river), I let Hunter take his bike (the one Olivia gave him). I wondered if Tanner would be jealous or mad that he couldn't ride the bike, or upset that he didn't have one. But instead, he fed off of Hunter's enthusiasm and ran as fast as he could to stay right next to Hunter's set of wheels. He was giggling even louder than Hunter. Sometimes he would get too close to the bike. Two times he got ran over by the bike (sad!) in a split second. He just got up and kept running, didn't cry or stop giggling. He was so proud of Hunter and was so encouraging.


(Hunter helping Tanner onto a rock).
There will come a time when Toots will have his own bike. There will be a time when Toots will stop sucking his thumb. There will be a time when Toots' poof will be cut short or lay down due to constant combing of teenage years. There will be a time when being called "Tootsie Tanner" will be "so un-cool, Mom!" But for now, just let that poof bounce in the air with his walk. Let him squeal when you tickle his underarm. Let him be my baby for just one more year. Speaking in phrases or not.