What You Do When You’re Two (and a Half)

You move your large dolls by grabbing their long hair and snatching them up. They do not mind. They are dolls, even the one that looks like you.

You learn words like “bootiful” at preschool and apply them inappropriately. For example, “Oh! Bootiful hot dog.”

You want to watch Frozen (“Fwozen”) and Moana (“Moanana”) and Brave (“Bwave”) until they become your air and water. When your parents are worn out by this trio, Sesame Street, or the Wiggles, or Wheels on the Bus, or Itsy-Bitsy Spider are acceptable.

You always say yes to Wendy’s chicken nuggets and want to eat fries (“fweyes!”) whenever they appear in front of you. You will reach quickly across a table to grab a handful of them if necessary.

You rarely say yes to green vegetables or green anything…except grass. Grass is for running and it is good.

You won’t tell anyone if you indeed napped at preschool and the teachers and aids might be exaggerating any nap you took because it is their job to make overanxious parents feel better.

You feel very strongly about taking off your jacket. Even your new dollies should all remove their jackets, boots, or hair ties. You have no interest in the temperature or the wind chill or the fact that you have thick snot which leaps from your nostrils after every sneeze.

You are very proud of yourself when you start to sing the words to your favorite songs while you gently touch the strings of your tiny, forever-out-of-tune ukelele.

You are delighted by the process of opening and closing things: doors, gifts, drawers, jacket zippers, etc.

You need to hold and identify every object you come across. You are a scientist observing all of it and you have your procedures, don’t worry about the notes.