BY MEG LAUGHLIN

 When Elian Gonzalez was miraculously pulled from the sea and brought to Miami in
 late November, he was a dazed, frail boy swaddled in blankets. Now, five months
 later, on the eve of his return to his father, he is a far different child.

 For starters, he weighs more and is sturdier. He has grown a shoe size and a pants
 size and lost a baby tooth, with a second one about to fall out. He wears designer
 jackets, a gold necklace and shades. He gels his hair in a Pee-Wee Herman do.

 He snaps commands at his dog in English. He waves and winks at photographers,
 racing around the small yard at the Gonzalez home like Batman. He climbs on his
 swing set and takes flying leaps into his wading pool -- sometimes on top of his
 younger cousin, Lazaro.

 In short, Elian Gonzalez acts like the confident, boisterous kid he was before his
 mother took him on the fated voyage that ended in her death and his
 super-stardom in Miami.

 His first-grade teacher in Cuba, Yamilin Gonzalez, described him as a ``friendly,
 communicative, affectionate child'' before he left. She said he had been the
 smallest child in her class and she had felt particularly protective of him. He was
 clingy and very dependent in the beginning of the school year, she said, but had
 grown increasingly independent and playful as the months had passed -- she
 believed because his parents had taken such an active part in school functions
 and teacher conferences.

 Then, on a balmy day in November, he had disappeared.

 When the child first surfaced in Miami, he had lost his mischievous spark and
 spontaneity. He either stared pitifully into the distance or rode around on his great
 uncle's shoulders flashing double victory signs. His family in Cuba, watching on
 TV, said they were troubled by what they thought were extreme swings in his
 moods.

 After Elian's grandmothers visited him in Miami in late January, they wept that the
 boy had become so somber and distant. As they drove away from the house of
 Sister Jeanne O'Laughlin where they met with Elian, they told the Rev. Joan
 Brown Campbell, who accompanied them, that they had kidded him to make him
 less timid by telling him that ``the rats must have bitten your tongue.''

 It was then and only then, they said, that their grandson loosened up, wagging his
 tongue playfully in the air as his paternal grandmother bit at it. They were
 particularly distressed over his reaction to photos of his schoolmates in
 Cardenas, they said.

 They told Campbell: ``He said he had a different school and a different teacher
 and wasn't interested in his old school.''

 SIMILAR DESCRIPTIONS

 At that time, Elian had been attending the Lincoln-Marti School in Little Havana
 for almost a month. The director, Demetrio Perez, said Elian was ``emerging as a
 friendly, communicative child'' -- a description remarkably similar to that of the
 teacher in Cuba.

 Perez said that Elian was ``coming out of his shell'' and ``loving all of the attention
 he is getting.''

 Attention came in the form of fancy electronic toys, a trip to Disney World, a pet
 rabbit and a dog and scores of cameras following him everywhere, not to mention
 the Miami Gonzalez family clinging to his every word and trying constantly to
 please him.

 According to a frequent visitor, Elian's great-aunt Angela Gonzalez fixed him
 scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast every morning, which he dubbed ``my
 American breakfast.'' He got so he shunned her arroz con pollo, begging instead
 that the family ``order out for pizza.''

 He hung Batman posters around his room, and rushed home from school every
 day after tutoring in English to watch Batman reruns on cable TV and drink
 chocolate milk which he calls ``McArthur's.'' Sometimes, he'd watch the reruns in
 his Batman costume.

 SIMPLER TOYS

 When he first arrived, he fashioned shapes of animals out of clay, drew on scraps
 of paper and kicked a ball around. A family friend recalls how fascinated he was
 when someone gave him tiny plastic cars, which he pushed around the house for
 days, making sounds like a car engine.

 But as time went on, he grew to prefer playing Nintendo and watching videos.

 When a shape appeared on the bedroom mirror in the Gonzalez home, which
 some called a sign from the Virgin of Guadalupe, Elian told visitors to the house
 that he believed what his cousin Marisleysis had told him: ``It's a sign from God to
 keep me here because I'm so special.''

 And special he has been.

 When he returns to Cuba with his father, his life will be different, especially if they
 move back to Cardenas, where people still move around by horse-and-buggy.

 Elian will live with his father, stepmother and half brother, next door to his
 grandparents. He will sleep in an air-conditioned room, and perhaps dream of a
 trip he once made.

                     Copyright 2000 Miami Herald