I’ve been saying that Mark is two years old for a little while now—counting in months is weird after a while—but deep down I still can’t believe he is actually turning two.
This milestone article will be full of platitudes, I can feel it.
Two years ago, Feng and I drove to the Civic Hospital, half convinced I wasn’t experiencing real contractions and that it was a false alert.
It was not. I couldn’t believe it when I held Mark for the first time, later in that beautiful October 12 morning.
A year ago exactly, Mark took his first steps. We had a lovely warm and sunny Indian summer and we spent a few weeks hanging out outdoors, before the winter, to help him practise the fine art of walking.
This year, the Indian summer is already gone and it’s chilly. Mark is no longer walking, he is running. He is tall too—I’m always surprised to see I can no longer hold him in the traditional “nursing” position for long (not that I’m still breastfeeding, but it was a natural position to hug for both of us). Now I get proper hugs, his tiny arms wrapped around my neck. I get kisses too. Well, if he is in the mood for it.
Mark is at the stage where I know exactly what he is saying but only linguistic Phds (Jeruen?) can understand what he says. Part of it is because he mixes languages, and part of it is normal toddler’s nonsensical babble. Since the trip to China, Mandarin won the linguistic battle. It’s the easiest language for a kid, shorter than French and English with its one- or two-syllable long words.
But sometime we need a decoder to make out what he says. Was it “dirty” or lā jī,” (garbage, waste)? Did he say “why” or “huài” (broken)? Sometimes, he says “merci, sometimes he says “xièxiè”. We aren’t very consistent either, we switch languages. He can repeat pretty much any word (ahem… need to watch my language!) but only uses a few sentences right, such as “xǐ shǒu” (wash hands), “more”, “bye bye”, “bateau” (French for boat), “fēi jī” (plane), “dodo” (French for sleep), miàn bāo(“bread”), “chuān xié” (to put shoes on), “shoes”, etc.
Mark is fascinated by washing machines and fans. In China, red ribbons are often tied to air-con units (to show that they are working) and he loved staring at the small piece of fabric dancing in the wind (we had several quiet meals just by sitting close to the air-con). And I’m not sure how and why the washing machine obsession started, but he insists on going to the basement to do a load of laundry every hour or so.
Mark whines, laughs, cries and smiles… and repeats. It’s a bit like living with a Hollywood A-list actor (minus the diet obsession, Mark eats anything any time). He can be extremely annoying when he nags, tests limits, refuses to sit down in the stroller or on a chair, and can’t stay still more than one second. But he can also be uber-cute, like when he kisses spontaneously, hugs, mimic what we do or just goofs around. The other day, he danced in front of the TV wearing my shoes. I wasn’t happy with the shoes part (shoes stay at the door!) but I couldn’t help laughing. In the subway, in Beijing, he would shake everybody’s hand and say “bye bye” when we step out of the cart. And I burst with pride whenever he masters a new skill.
Mark is two… and I’m looking forward to see him growing up.