On the one hand, there is this tableau:
Haus Meister reads The Tale of Jeremy Fisher out loud to the boys at bedtime. The Rascal enjoys the story, predicting the outcome while looking at the lovely artwork of the late Mrs. Heelis (otherwise known, of course, as Beatrix Potter, but in real life she preferred to be called by her married name. I like that. But I digress). Meanwhile, the Dinosaur looks ahead to the scene where Mr. Jeremy Fisher welcomes Alderman Ptolemy Tortoise and Sir Issac Newton, and upon seeing the latter, he shouts out:
“A DIBASORE (dinosaur), RAWR!”
Now I am unsure what type of dinosaur species is represented by the genial Newt, but I suppose it was a loud, roaring one. This all seems to fit with the little boy who is starting to hold his own in dealings with his big brothers, and who usually does so by screaming–er–roaring on his own.
On the other hand, there’s this tableau:
I’m in the kitchen working on dinner and I’ve moved the Princess’ high chair into the room with me in order to get some work done while, ideally, she would sit and play. Unfortunately, she doesn’t want to sit and play. Figures. Instead, she wants to walk around the high chair, holding on for dear life but feeling a sense of mobility nonetheless. Enter the Dinosaur for a refill of his sippy cup. Catching a glimpse of his sister through the legs of the chair, he begins to play a game of peek-a-boo with her and makes her laugh. Giggling himself, he continues the game and before leaving gives her a kiss on the top of her head.
(And of course, totally melts his mom’s heart).
They call it the terrible twos, but there’s elements of it that I like very much indeed.