Two has been a remarkable time in our lives with Tolkien. “Remarkable” is a word that a family friend who happens to be a priest likes to use when “many remarks could be made.” I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Tolkien’s experience with the age of Two is “terrible”, but given that this journey began in the late second trimester while expected Montgomery, it could be argued that it has been remarkable.
I remember quite vividly at his 2-year-old check-up, his pediatrician asked if we had stayed to teach him his ABC’s. Ever the performer, he sat there and sang them all, then pulled out his new birthday book and pointed out all the letters. And then tried to tell her all the animals he recognized in aforementioned book.
For young Tolkien’s 2.5 year birthday, we gave him, arguably, the best and worst present: a sister. We were expecting all manner of normal sibling reactions to a new baby. I blush to say, few of our expectations were favorable and we really thought he would be, for lack of a better term, jealous. In that regard, we may have been correct, excepting the small detail of what he was jealous. Tolkien was very jealous that he couldn’t hold his sister. He wanted to be the one to comfort her. I think he would have tried to nurse her, if given the opportunity. When people came to see the new baby, he’d escort them to her, happily chatting about how great she is in his eyes. We were… Perplexed. In short, many remarks could be made.
