Elijah has an interesting personality blooming. He is, as all of our children have been, unique. He is bright and loves silliness, but more and more it is becoming evident that he is strong willed to a fault, and he knows how to hold a grudge...and hold it...and hold it still. At least we know he doesn't have a problem with attention span.
Currently he is beyond infatuated with coffee mugs and electrical cords. I have no idea why, please don't ask, but every coffee mug and every electrical cord in his sight belong to him. If he should spy one he will reach for it, he will whine for it, and if it isn't immediately granted, we're in for it. He will furrow his brow, glare, arch his back, and shriek with like a mother eagle who has been denied access to her chick. He will run, shrieking all the way, and slam himself into the nearest piece of furniture, or door, or wall, or just collapse on the ground in a wailing puddle of tears. And he will go on. And on.
Often he is so upset from my ten second delay in action, that even if I consent to letting him hold my plastic coffee mug he will fling it to the ground in anger. After he cracked my second mug I decided it was time to stop trying to appease the child and introduce him to the concept of discipline. That's flying like a lead balloon.
His favorite electrical cords include the spare computer mouse and cord that were stored in my desk drawer and a white extension cord that was stored on a shelf in my office. Because the first few times he picked these up I turned a blind eye in the interest of peace and sanity, these cords now belong to him. He has been upset for three days that I dared to put the white extension cord on a shelf that was out of his reach. He will stand under the shelf and reach as high as he can while grunting, "Uh! Uh! Uh! UHHHH!" First with a hopeful tone, then with a broken-hearted tone, and then with pure outrage.
He is also going through another phase of extreme attachment to his daddy, whom he refers to as "Maa-."
"Matt!" I will call from the other room.
To which Elijah will echo, "Maa-!"
"No, Da-ddy," Matt will correct him.
And Elijah will smile sweetly, knowing full well what his is doing and respond, "Maa-!"
Two nights ago Elijah, who had been sleeping through the night for a few weeks, woke and cried inconsolably in the middle of the night. He whimpered, then wailed. I gave him his water cup and tried to soothe him, but he finally called out, "Maa-!" Matt was up late downstairs so I went down and asked if he would try to come and soothe Elijah. And, indeed, Elijah calmed immediately when Matt picked him up. He even pushed me away when I came near them. Matt ended up laying down on the bed with Elijah on his chest and Elijah went peacefully back to sleep. I got the couch.
Today at lunch someone said something about Daddy, and Elijah's eyes brightened. He looked around the room quickly from his highchair and asked, "Maa-? ...Maa-?" I tried to explain to him that Daddy went bye-bye, that Daddy was at work. I took him to look out the door at Daddy's empty parking space, but it only made Elijah more sad. "Maa-!" he whined, apparently out of thin air at least three more times over the next two hours. When Matt finally came home at dinner time Elijah felt fulfilled at last.
Nothing could make him happier than to finally be in his Daddy's arms...except maybe to be in his Daddy's arms with Mommy's coffee mug and his white extension cord. Now that would be perfection.