the animal in the house

Although the choice was to sit in the car while running errands in the freezing cold with mom or watch TV cuddled up with dad, the boy chose to come with me in the car. As I scooped him out of the car to run into the house (he of course was only wearing jammies with a blanket poorly thrown around his shoulders) he put his arms tight around my neck and his legs tight around my waist.

"Are you my little monkey?" I teased.

"No!" he laughed.

Knowing that he is sensitive about his status as a boy (and sometimes a baby), I continued "Are you my little boy?"

"No!"

"My baby?"

"No, am porupyne!" he replied with a laugh.

"Wait, did you just say you were my porcupine?" I asked him.

"Yes!" he gleefully called out.

So right now, he's my porcupine... unless you ask, then "am monkey!"... unless you ask, then "am porupyne!"

yay at the dentist

Took these beauties to the dentist last week (clean dental bill of health!). As the dentist caught me up to speed at the end, he mentioned how much he likes to see their names on his schedule for the day. He gets excited about Kiddo, because he chose that name for his daughter and loves to see it in use. And Babs makes him smile because she is so clearly her own girl: fitted out in batman shirts and spiderman shoes.

prayer police

Often as we bless the food, each of us just clasps our hands, instead of folding our arms. But the Boy has learned from nursery (yay nursery, we love nursery) that one should fold their arms. So while we pray, he corrects us one by one. "No, not that way daddy, like this," until he improves his form, then on to me, then the girls.

This morning, as he quietly insisted "Like this [Kiddo]" throughout the entire prayer, I was reminded of another prayer police. Except when Babs was the enforcer quiet words were never enough.

helmit

For the last three days, it's been below freezing when we took the girls to school. (Drastic, considering we were wearing shorts for Christmas.) The boy insists on bringing his "helmit" when we go out. "Your mittens?" "Yes." (He also uses them when he can convince me to go outside in the backyard.)

Except they're not really mittens. They are ornaments, gifts from my husband's grandma that come with money and chocolate (thank you!). But they fit, and keep his fingers warmish. And he loves them.

in pursuit of fairness

Won't the boy be sad when all the kids are grown up and we know all about the girls when they were adorable toddlers, and nothing about him, because I just didn't make the time to blog? Yeah, I think it will be sad too. So, at least tonight, I am trying to rectify the situation.

(He's not naked, he just looks it. He has a diaper on, and socks.)

He can really talk now, sort of. He speaks in sentences, with most of the words there. I understand a good deal of it. (His dentist asked if his thumb sucking was interfereing with his talking, which I thought was a weird question to ask a mom who's primary responsibility right now is to understand, no matter how anything is said.) And other people understand a lot too.

His cars go "gro-shee shop-ping." I love it. He is obsessed with "Bob the builder," and when you ask him if he can do something for you, he replies "I sink so" [I think so] just like the truck on the show.

It is important for him to do as much as possible "by self!" which includes serving himself dinner. And he wants a little of absolutely everything: every sauce, every condiment, every dish. If it's being served he wants some. Then he eats almost none of it. There are a few exceptions, but mostly he just doesn't eat dinner. (Although he has tried some in the last two days.)

(Grabbing the shot for his dad's birthday.)

Ever since we got home from Texas for Thanksgiving, when he slept on the floor, he has been less than impressed with his crib. But he is so good, that he keeps using it. But at the end of each nap or night, we are called to get him with "get me out here!"

This weekend we picked up a hand-me-down toddler bed (which we're missing some of the parts to, but that's another story), so I promised him that today he would sleep in the bed. Which we can't put together. So I moved his mattress to the floor. Nap was skipped (although he obediently stayed in his room for an hour), but he's asleep there now. We'll see how this works out.

He wants Kiddo to play with him all the time. "E, play with me," he asks.

Often as I'm making dinner he'll ask me to do something. "I can't" I reply. "Oh, how 'bout [person of choice]?" he'll suggest. I encourage him to have that person help. Kiddo is fabulous about reaching out to him. Babs wants to, but also wants to have her own way, push him around, never have him touch her things, and to touch all of his things, especially whatever he's using right then, so their interactions are a little more complicated.

 He loves to play outside. Except there are some neighborhood cats that are often outside, and he is petrified of those cats. So he won't play outside by himself. "Do flow-fels?" he asks me if he wants to head out. The words he's saying are "do flowers?" The suggestion he's providing is I can weed the sandbox/pool footprint, while he does trucks. I say yes as often as I can.

Today he found a plastic golf club carrier that has seen better days. He thinks it's a vacuum, and says "do zum-zum?" Every time I asked him to put it down he said "zum-zum for more mimutes."

He's fantastic. Really. 

thoughts from the park

School starts in 5 days. So I asked Kiddo if there was anything she'd like to do. "Go to the park?" she asked. Okay. So after the Boy's nap, off we went.

Part of the reason she wanted to go to the park is because she *finally* learned how to swing on her own, and wanted to practice. Because I am so ready to not push her any more, I wanted her to practice. She sang a happy song and swung for a really long time.

The Boy brought two books to the park. He was much more interested in being read to and wandering around the park with his two books than the swings, the slides, or climbing around.

And as I watch Babs emerge from the slide I thought: When did my little girl get so long and lean? Where did my little brick go? I guess she is old enough to go to kindergarten... even if I still wish it were half day.

snak!

The boy loves fruit snacks. The girls, not so much, not any more. He also knows what they're called.

Over the last little while, when I've asked "do you want a snack?" He excitedly yells "Snak! Snak!" thinking I'm about to dish out some fruit snacks. And he was so sad when I didn't. (Depending on the day, there were either tears or throwing things to express his frustration.)

So I started to rephrase things, lest I utter the word "snack." "Do you want something to eat?" is what I say now.

On Sunday night, we stayed up as a family watching a movie. Usually we put him to bed in the middle of it all, but this time we let him stay up. As we neared the end, he looked me in the eye, with the I-can-barely-talk-but-we-need-to-communicate-right-now look.

"Som-ping eat," he announced.

I was so proud. And had my husband get him an applesauce (a food he seems to enjoy, but is only willing to eat when he's really hungry).