Most of the time I totally delight in two-year-old Elliott’s growth and progress and celebrate his milestones as he moves into each new developmental stage.

Most of the time.

There are a few poignant moments when I hate to see the signs of toddlerhood give way to a more mature and articulate being.

Take monomo and hockercopper. For about a year, Elliott has called motorcycles monomo. What a great word. It’s fun to say, it’s close but not too close to the real word and it’s all his. I don’t know any other person who uses that word. Precious. But in the last couple of months I’ve realized that he doesn’t use monomo anymore. He isn’t quite saying motorcycle but he’s moved a lot closer to that word and left monomo behind.  I know it’s progress but I hate to see monomo go.

Hockercopper is another Elliottism that is still in use but I know its demise can’t be far away. Helicopter is waiting in the wings to push hockercopper out. I will hate to see it go, too.

But the one that will really slay me is when “workerhelper” goes by the wayside. Firemen, policemen, ambulance drivers, gardeners, housecleaners, traffic cops, bulldozer drivers and just about any person doing any job – big or small – are workerhelpers or helperworkers. It helps if they require a helmet to do their work but that is not essential. Elliott himself is a self-described workerhelper. He came up with it himself and knows exactly when and how to use it. And I hope it stays part of his vocabulary for a long, long time.

But I know full well that it may not. Time marches on and perhaps no one on the planet marches any faster than a two year old. Their world is one big explosion of exploration and mastery of tasks physical, emotional and mental. We cannot stop them and most of the time we wouldn’t dream of wanting to stop them. Most of the time.