The tower of Babel has relocated

Now that we have completed our first full week of summer, I just have to say that we are having a blast. I also kind of feel like the warden in an insane asylum and I only assign myself the role of warden as opposed to patient because of the three of us, I am the only one that can legally drive a car. Hudson is now one month away from his second birthday and we are engaged in an age old battle of communication. Hudson knows exactly what he is saying and his mother and father are apparently too moronic to understand him.

He will say in a loud clear voice whatever he wants and I will try really hard to translate in my head. Sometimes it is easy, he has quite the collection of words, mostly pertaining to food and drink that we can understand without much thought. It is the rest that give me trouble and he has the patience of well, an almost two year old. If I don't respond to his request/demand in a reasonable amount of time (about 2.1 seconds) he repeats it. Over and over again. Never changing tone or inflection, he is a persistent robot while I run around the room holding up objects saying, "this?" while he shakes his head no. It is absolutely maddening. I spent 20 minutes the other morning sitting in the bathroom while he sat on his potty and sang songs to himself. Connor wandered in and said, "Mommy, he didn't need to potty, he wanted to have a party." Oh. Well that makes perfect sense. As soon as Connor said the word party, Hudson jumped up off the potty and yelled "Pise!!" Connor got really excited and said, "Oh, a surprise party, those are the best ones!" Do you see what I mean? I don't even have a chance here.

Which leads me to my little UN translator, Connor Hill. He is a fantastic liaison for his brother and they communicate in a way that I cannot even begin to understand. We have really been trying to enforce the rule that Connor cannot talk for Hudson, because we thought that it wasn't doing him any favors developmentally. But, when I finally decide I have exhausted all my skills in mind reading, I call upon my oh so wise older son to come help his mother out. He walks calmly into the room, bends over right in his brother's face and says, "Tell me Mushy." Hudson tells him and then Connor will look at me and say, "Oh Mommy, he wants to watch a Wiggles movie on your iPhone, the one with the dog. He said dance doggie." And sure enough, as soon as the word dance leaves Connor's mouth Hudson starts dancing and saying yay! Brother saved the day again.

Matt has even less luck than I do. He came in this morning while I was getting ready for church and said, "Hudson has been asking for what sounds like dog-wich for 10 minutes. I give up, where do we keep the dog-wiches?" I told him to ask our official translator and sure enough I came downstairs a little later to see Hudson happily sitting in his highchair eating a biscuit with strawberries aka dog-wich.

Matt and I used to think that having two kids was perfect for us because we would be evenly matched and never outnumbered. I realize now that those were just the random musings of dreamers and fools. In our reality we are easily the mental minority in this house. I am just praying that they don't ever join forces against us to overthrow the family government, we don't stand a chance.