At not-quite-two years of age [21 months, for you parents out there], Luke has many many things to say. What he lacks in articulation he more than makes up for in intonation, intent and sheer determination.
Sunday afternoon. Our friend Hector is over for lunch. Post-meal, we three grown-ups sit around on the couch and try honorably to force our brains to function in the unbearable heat [and mind you, our A/C is cranked to eleven]. Luke has been napping for about 45 minutes. Suddenly we hear (and feel) his footsteps on the stairs. He descends rather royally, in his puffy diaper and green Rolling Stones t-shirt, bleary-eyed and generally cranky-faced.
Hector: Hey, Luke. I've got to go. Why don't you come with me? Go get some pants, we'll go home.
Luke: [Studies Hector steadily.]
Hector: Come on, buddy. Go get some pants so we can go.
Luke: [Starts back up the stairs. Stops at the midway point, turns to us.] Be right back!
He returns in less than one minute, holding a onesie that is much too small for him.
Luke: [Holding onesie out to me with a smile] Pant!
And then sticks one foot out, as though showing me how he puts his pants on: one leg at a time, just like everybody else.