Oh, my funny little man.
It’s been so long since I’ve devoted a blog post to each child. I think it’s because of the 52 portrait project. Somehow those little snippets of them each week seems to be sufficient in recording their antics in the old memory bank.
But I feel like I don’t properly represent Emil and his huge personality through this space. He is such an amazing little person with complex thoughts and emotions, with more tender relationships than I could have imagined- between his parents, his brothers, our family friends, our extended family, and even the fish monger at the market. He is, to put it completely objectively, magnetic. And yet, he is largely nonverbal.
Andrew and I understand some of what he says; complicated, long-strung sentences of gibberish with a real word inserted every now and then. He communicates well without words, but we have been making more of an effort to talk to him more directly during the day with the hope that something will click sometime soon and he will have the words for the thoughts he so desperately tries to convey.
But he is, without a doubt, the most physically coordinated little brother. He jumps effortlessly onto a trampoline by way of a chair or couch. He nails the landing when jumping off walls at the playground. He climbs high on a structure which Oliver just recently became comfortable with, making the other parents at the playground cringe with discomfort. He is, for the most part, a wild man who would spend every moment outdoors if only he were given the chance. These days, he is most likely found out in the back yard with a shovel, digging for 30 minutes straight in the compost pile, or running back and forth with Proudie, or rummaging around in the overgrown areas of our yard, or walking round and round the garden path checking for “qwash!” (squash) under large leaves.
He is also, most certainly, always wearing shoes. First thing he asks for when he wakes up is to put on his shoes. He will bring Andrew the preferred pair, or walk in with one of Oliver’s boots on, carrying the other and looking sheepish.
And he will dance. He will wag his hips and shake his head, turn in circles and bob to the beat. He is our funny little love, who sleeps with a baby he tucks in next to himself every night, patting it on the back and saying, “Nye-nye, beh-bee” before settling in for the night.
We cherish Emil, each and every one of us. And I cannot believe our baby will be 2 next month. Life is truly amazing.
To think, he came out that way! A force of nature.
We tell a story in our family about a young friend who didn’t speak until he was three. At which point, he burst out in the middle of one breakfast with “Trouble with this place is there’s never enough jam!” Finally, something deserved enough importance to be said. Still makes me laugh.
I love that story! Andrew and I often joke that Emil is going to say something really profound when he finally does speak! Let’s hope it’s kind, at least. 🙂
He sounds like such a joy in every way. And that photo? Perfect. 🙂