Doctor? Is that you? Why are you driving a minivan?
So I turned 30 today.
You know you’re getting old when you get a present for your birthday and you’re genuinely surprised.
I love how Babycenter keeps nagging me that I should be potty-training Mini-Marmot. They do not seem to be taking Mini-Marmot’s opinion on the matter into account.
Me: Do you want to be a big boy and learn to use the potty? Not wear diapers anymore?
Mini-Marmot: No! Nope. Nooooooooooooooo!
Later
Me: Are you a big boy or a baby?
Mini-Marmot: Baby!
Alright then.
Meeting another two-year-old is always such a stark reminder that Mini-Marmot is a. frickin’ enormous and b. not very verbal at all. We just met our 2-year-old neighbor, who speaks very clearly but is at least four inches shorter than our little dude, despite being a few months older.
He turned two the same weekend we moved, so he didn’t get a party. Fortunately he’s two, so all he noticed was the presents and the new house.
Mini-Marmot likes TV, but ONLY Sesame Street and Doctor Who - nothing else. Even Thomas the Tank Engine didn’t hold his attention for more than a minute.
Until today, when I was flipping through channels and came across Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. He’s totally into it. I bet he’ll be reading the books inside four years.
Human beings do not live in the objective world alone, nor alone in the world of social activity as ordinarily understood, but are very much at the mercy of the particular language which has become the medium of expression for their society. It is quite an illusion to imagine that one adjusts to reality essentially without the use of language and that language is merely an incidental means of solving specific problems of communication or reflection…
The fact of the matter is that the ‘real world’ is to a large extent unconsciously built up on the language habits of the group…We see and hear and otherwise experience very largely as we do because the language habits of our community predispose certain choices of interpretation.
The only nice thing about the “wetlands” at the bottom of our yard: random flowers.