Another Ethan first: He rode his tricycle in the snow.

Upon returning home from church and getting out of the car, Ethan spied his tricycle in the garage and asked if he could ride it in the snow. There’s nothing like first-hand experience for learning, right? So I said he could try. Undaunted by my prediction of how things might go, he rode his tricycle to the edge of the driveway, to the foot of the tallest snow bank.

Ethan pushed his tricycle up the bank and climbed on. He quickly realized he couldn’t pedal, but he could stand up and drag himself forward with his feet. “Daddy, it works!” Ethan trudged on, making a loop in the side yard. He tipped over once, but was resilient all the way through. After about half way, what began with initial exuberance had transformed into a more realistic outlook. “Ethan ride tricycle in summer.” Still, he never lost his joy.

Ethan seemed to like that he was by himself in the deep snow. I was standing on the driveway in dress shoes with every intention of staying there. On his way back, Ethan finally asked for help a few feet from the driveway. I told him I thought he could make it by himself. His eyes lit up, and he pushed his way forward with bubbling excitement as he cross his finish line back to solid ground.

A simple gift

A classic – a brown paper bag serving as the coveted toy. Twice we had put it in the recycle bin. What use had it once the candy cane and fruit from the Christmas Eve church service had been eaten? Each time, Ethan asked where his paper bag was, so we got it out. Who can blame him? It fit perfectly into his new little wagon.

Another Ethan first: He laid out train tracks.

After a long period of treating his new train set with the utmost care and kindness, Ethan eventually decided to “dismantle” it. Not knowing how long a new layout would last, our reconstruction was a simple circuit that spared most of the set. We didn’t know what a blessing this would be until one day when I came downstairs and noticed Ethan linking tracks together. He wanted some help with the bridge, but otherwise, this is a layout he “engineered” all by himself.

“I want” only in make-believe

Previously, the single word “I-did-it” meant “I want to do it” (or sometimes actually “I did it”). For the last few months, Ethan has been saying “aba” for “I want”. For example, “Aba games” can mean he wants me to bring Big Blanky Bun to life to play with him. This works for food too, such as “Aba apple” or the general “Aba hungry.”

This evening Ethan was “reading” a storybook to himself, flipping through the pages, inventing narration for each. He used a voice for Cookie Monster, who was telling about what foods he wanted. Cookie Monster didn’t use the Ethan shorthand, however; Cookie Monster said, “I want apple”, “I want carrot”, etc. Personally, having a fondness for the cuteness of Ethan’s language, I hope Cookie Monster doesn’t teach Ethan grammar lessons too soon.

Another Ethan first: He drew a picture.

Ethan has transitioned from random scribbles to meaningful shapes. His first images were the moon, stars, and a man.

His paintbrush was a water pen. The canvas turns from white to blue as it gets wet (then goes back to white as it dries).

Another Ethan first: He corrected Mommy’s grammar.

Beth was reading Clara Cow Wraps Up Warm to Ethan. On one page, Ethan pointed to two mice. Beth, being cute, said, “Oh look, two mousies.” Ethan said, “No. Uh uh. Mice.”

Another Ethan first: He showed his awareness of style.

Mommy put on Ethan’s shirt, but had to wait for some reason to put his pants on. Ethan’s reaction: “Mommy, doesn’t match!”