Conversational: More Than You Ever Needed to Know

Everett has really been talking like a three year old lately, and it has been a whole lot of fun. A lot of his elaborate stories and scenarios revolve around monsters and robots--he tells about how they are mean, and that they are going to come in our house and eat all of our food, but he has no fear of them yet.

Ashley has started saying two or three-word phrases now, most of which she has picked up from Everett ("let me go!" "Move!" "Open that." "Bite, please!" "More ____!" "I seeeeeee youuuuuuu"). It is fun to see her learning from the same boy who couldn't say any of these things when we moved here in May.

On the way to church every Sunday, Everett describes in detail about the robot/monster's latest misdeeds. Until this last week, I thought I had mastered listening to him while also talking to Joel.

"Da robot in the trees. . .it will come break our car!" Everett says while clenching his fists and inserting forceful growls into the tone of his voice. "Da robot will break me window, and, and, Ashley window, and da windshield, and papa's window. And! And, and, and, da robot will eat da deer and da moose and da rabbit and da baby deer. And da robot. . .Mommy. . .Mommy. . . MOMMY! You not listening to me, Mommy!"

"Oh, I'm sorry Everett. What else is the robot going to do?"

"Da robot, very big robot! It will break our car! It will go to our house and eat all our ice cream, and milk, and, and, and our pizza, and our bread, and all our oranges!"

"Do robots like to eat oranges, Everett?" I question.

"YEAH!" he growls happily. Then, he'll sit and stare out his window for a few seconds, a dreamy grin on his face, the dimple in his right cheeck accentuating his deep and involving thoughts before he begins his next narrative. His articulation is a little off sometimes, but he is worlds away from where he was this summer.


As a big brother, Everett also enjoys being a whistle-blower. Ashley will occasionally dredge up a lost pacifier from somewhere (always involving copious amounts of lint) in her room. Everett will not tolerate this. He marches up to her and authoritatively swipes it from her mouth, leaving bits of spittle flying in its wake. Ashley immediately cries out, detailing the injustices of the situation with her unintelligble, tearful shrieks.

"No, Ash-wey!" He declares, "No pacifier! You only get it when you're sw(l)eeping!"

Ashley screams louder and places her trembling hands by her mouth for effect.

Everett then tosses the pacifier somewhere out of reach, like up on the counter or back behind her crib. Then, he marches away, satisfied that he stopped his sister from yet again breaking the rules.

Often I feel like giving it right back to Ashley, just to prove to Everett that he is not in charge. Usually I just make him sit by himself for a minute before apologizing to Ashley (who is usually still upset but will grudgingly look at him as he pats her nicely on the head).

A few times, Everett has come up to me and started lifting up the bottom of my shirts, stating that we are going to get William out now. I have to explain to him that I am going to go to the hospital and let the doctor help me, and that William is not ready to be born yet, and Everett is usually appeased but disappointed.


Today Everett was in the kitchen explaining his elaborate plans to Ashley for a house constructed out of books. He reached the end of his explanation before realizing that Ashley had already left the room. Shaking his head, he looked up at me and said, "Ashley is not wistening to me!" before dashing out of the room to round her up again.

Also in his daily vernacular:

"Wait a second! Wait a second! I have an idea!"
"Thank-you. I say dat at school, Mommy. And yes, pwease! I say dat, too."
"Mommy. . .I'm going to work now! Bye! I will miss you!" (later:) "I'm back, Mommy! I missed you!"
"Hey! Let me go, Mommy. LET ME GO!"
"My poop not gween today, Mommy. Just brown."
"No, Mommy. I can do it Aw By Mysewf!"
"I can't do it, I can't do it! It's too twicky, Mommy!"

(disgusted grunting sigh) "I can't find it! I wooked evewywhere! I wooked in my woom, and mommy's woom, and da bafwoom. . .and I can't find it anywhere!"

It has been a lot of fun. Mostly, though, I love hearing his prayers. After opening it by addressing his Father in Heaven, most of them go something like this:

"I wove (love) my dogs, and my book, and my cars. Pwease bwess da food dat mommy made. I wove my dogs. Bwess us to be safe. I wove my dogs. In da name of Jesus Christ, Amen!"

I think his prayers are the most sincere ones said in this house. It will be fun to hear how his prayers change as he gets older and learns to say more grown-up things, but I think I will always miss this age of innocence when everything is so simple, and that even at a young age Everett understands that he has a Heavenly Father who loves him and listens to him.