That being said, Fiona Clementine is actually one of the most adorable, pleasant two year olds I've ever had the pleasure of parenting. Right now she is just the most perfect, hilarious, two there could be. She's sweet and compliant and obstinate and thoughtful and creative and indignant and determined. I am truly quite fond of two year olds, even though the graduation to this infamous age is often feared. The sweet innocence of the one-year-old simplicity is sad to say goodbye to, but there is something quite endearing about the two year old's determination to try to establish herself as an independent person with free will and thought. Because they are so little, and really do still lack most common sense, I find it easy to forgive a two year old. I also find them still relatively distractible from their woes when they get in a snit. (all of these observations are actually comparisons with the more odious age of three). And they are funny, really funny, to be around.
Fiona right now is absolutely engrossed in the world of dramatic play. She loves her dollies, she dresses them up, feeds them, swaddles them, gives birth to them. She combs their hair, washes them with cloths and wipes and tea towels, and changes their diapers many times each day. She is so adorable in the way she mimics the way I mother her. She talks constantly as she plays and her dialogue can bring me to tears in her tenderness towards her little charges. She plays beautifully by herself but also loves nothing more than to be roped into her older sister's dramas and will willingly play along in her assigned role.
Fiona's communication is so adorable. Her former habit of repeating everything twice changed over to an occasional repetition of the first word of her sentence. She is very cute about always asking if she can do things, rather than stating that she wants to do them. I'll go to get her from her nap, and she'll say, "Can, can you pick me up?" with this big, beautiful smile, and of course I say yes, and I do, and then she'll say, "And can, can we go downstairs? And can, can we pwease read a book together? And can, can you pwease hold me on your lap? And can, can we pwease read together a few books?" and as I'm nodding, and saying yes, her little tiny smile is getting bigger and bigger until her little face looks like it's going to crack.
Yes, she's naughty sometimes. Sometimes she whacks her baby sister, and most nights at the dinner table when the conversation is steered elsewhere she sends her spoon sailing across the dining room ("Aaah! My syoom!"). But these things are endearing all the same (maybe not the whacking) because it's just all part of the package of getting older and closer to the amazing person she's going to become. It's all so much easier when you've done it all before-- you see your two year old as just a spot on the continuum, rather than a wicked little person who is relatively difficult to control. I'm thankful for that perspective as it makes each day a little bit easier and lot more hilarious for me.