Rowan is petrified of haircuts; our next plan is to try and assuage him with a lollipop. I know I know, I should have thought of that one sooner.
Between his mop top and his impressive height, Rowan is regularly mistaken for a 3 year old. But Rowan is most assuredly approaching 2. He makes this clear every time he freaks out about anything at all. This morning it had something to do with simultaneously wanting and not wanting breakfast. This afternoon (and most days), it was frustration at getting buckled into his car seat. He wants out of his sleep sack -- no wait! Don't unzip him yet! Rowan does his best to assert himself in this crazy world and I have to commend his effort, though sometimes I am commending and wrestling him at the same time. Fortunately, acknowledging his feelings (or distracting him with food/toy/book) goes a long way toward calming the beast within. Then again, he ain't 2 yet. We're just beginning.
Fiona did not catch on to the seriousness of the situation. The other day, after our visit, she asked, "Can Aunt Ellen come to my birthday party?" And then when we told her she'd died, Fiona said she didn't understand. It hadn't occurred to me that, while we've talked about death and about people who have died, no one in Fiona's life had died before. There's little chance that Rowan will remember Ellen, but hopefully Fiona will. She's sure to hear a lot of good stories over the next week as family members descend to honor a remarkable woman.