This is the first in a series of photos I’m trying to take of Sylvan in the clothes of his forebears. 
The process isn’t proving easy or simple, since he’s growing pretty quickly and being messed with (e.g. having his clothes changed) falls pretty low on his list of favorites. This romper was my Dad’s, and his Mom kept it beautiful for years and years. It has a label that says “Handmade” with the initials BLM. The stitching on the collar and on the front is pretty intricate. Sylvan pulls off the 60 year-old romper quite well, I’d say (remember that you can always click on a photo to see a larger version).
Sylvan’s language acquisition continues to astound us. He frequently uses words that I don’t even know he understands, much less that he can actually say. Tonight, for instance, he told me “dock” when I was putting on my sock after a shower. Now, I know, that sounds a lot like his word for truck, dog, and duck. The difference in pronunciation is slight, but he uses those words discriminately, when he sees a truck, dog or other four-legged mammal, or duck. He also has a word for “potty,” we think, as well as one for “light.” Those words sound nothing like the English words for them, but he uses his words in only those specific situations.
Even more amazing is that almost every child goes through just this language development! Miraculous. Really, it’s like a miracle. I can’t believe we all don’t go through life grunting.