I wrote this in 4.12.11:
No less than five minutes after I walked into their house around ten in the morning, his Mom asked him the color of my sweatshirt.
“Geen,” Max correctly responded.
“What color is the ball?”
“Byou.” Right again.
“What color is a banana?”
“Lellow.” That’s three for three.
Tuesday April 12, 2011, Max’s delighted Mom was revealing her young son’s ability to correctly identify and name three different colors (green, blue and yellow), an impressive feat for a person yet to celebrate his second birthday.
“Sheven,” he says a minute later as he counts all the way from one to ten and recites the fourth to last number.
My almost-23-months-old nephew continues to show his little boy brainpower, as well as his endearing disposition, throughout my visit.
Max kindly took my hand to lead me to his playroom. We tossed the big blue bouncy ball back and forth. He laughed hard when I let the ball spring off my head and wiggled my arms and legs to be silly. Besides merely playing catch, though, the wheels were apparently still turning in this bright toddler.
“It’s byou,” he said, retrieving the same ball he called “byou” earlier in the family room.
“It’s geen,” Max said, looking up at my sweatshirt as he rose from grabbing the ball off the hardwood floor.
“Two,” he declared a short while later while standing by a “geen” seat and holding my water bottle and his blue and green sippy cup together.
Max’s sweet innocence unraveled even further when I playfully bounced the large “byou” ball off the top of his head instead of mine. I thought maybe if I bounced the ball off his head he’d try to mimic what I was doing.
Needless to say, I wasn’t prepared for the apologetic response I got for intentionally but lightly throwing a ball at my clever albeit a bit confused nephew’s noggin.