Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Monday, February 6, 2017
Saturday, February 4, 2017
a whole 15% of a decade old!
When I was little my dad used to couch every birthday in terms of decades. Like, if I was turning five then he would say, "Wow! A whole half-decade old!," etc. Well Wessy hit the big oh-one-and-a-half a few days ago so I thought i'd dust off this here blog to write about it. Fair warning, right now both of my little guys are sleeping but we are on the clock, people, so don't chide me if this post ends in mid-sentence.
Well...what can I say about Wessy at 18 months? The problem is not that there isn't enough to say, it's that there's TOO MUCH. WAY TOO MUCH. He's a little chipped-tooth tornado wrapped in dirt. He walks and talks and drives a hard bargain. He is so so so busy. One literally cannot look away for a second and expect him to still be in the same place. He is a big fan of blueberries, pizza, books and motor vehicles and cares not a whit for his potty, being told what to do or having any sort of hygiene or grooming activity imposed upon him.
He is becoming more and more verbal, to the point that there is some legitimate two-way communication going on here. One can ask him questions to which he will sometimes reply SI or NO (more often the latter). Last night he told me he wanted AGUA before bed and then when I gave it to him, drank it thirstily. When I ask him if he wants to eat, he runs hungrily to his high chair. When I ask him if he wants to get on the potty, he says NO NO. Apropos of that, I was recently trying to get him on the potty and I started with my usual used-car pitch: "Wessy, if you go poo poo in the potty you can have--" "MOCHI!!!" Note that his understanding that he can get mochi for using the potty correctly is still theoretical in nature.
Last night, we were playing in his room when a great idea occurred to him. He turned and walked out the door, pattered down the hall to the kitchen and stood by his high chair. He looked up at me with his most earnest face and said, "ELADO?" (helado=ice cream). I looked at him and said, nah Wessy, it's late. He looked back at me, changed his tone to a slightly more persuasive one and made his second offer, "ELADO MAMA?" I'm a well-known alcahueta (according to Geraldine) so I hooked him up with a few spoonfuls of ELADO. I'm gunning hard for Favorite Parent.
Also in the excellent parent category, I'm starting to let him watch short snippets of cartoons or youtube videos of trucks here and there if I need to accomplish something. Last night, I discovered the crack cocaine of little boy TV shows: Bob the Builder. This show features anthropomorphic construction equipment acting out fairly primitive narratives. The episode we watched featured an excavator who was sad because the ground was slippery and it was hard to dig. I selfishly let him sit mesmerized in my lap for ten minutes because I wanted the cuddles and he literally never ever sits still without a bribe on board.
When it was over, I turned it off and he looked at me gravely with a hint of alarm and said UH OH! I told him we were done with Bob the Builder for now. He looked at me seriously and said bluntly,
"Bob Builder." I said we were done and he looked at me with concern and repeated, "Bob Builder." I said nothing and he repeated louder "BOB BUILDER!" As my dad would say, there was much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth upon the curtailment of Bob Builder. This morning he has been repeating Bob Builder like an incantation. I must be careful not to abuse the power of Bob Builder.
Another recent development is Wessy's newfound but deep and abiding love for PIZZA. He learned the word a few weeks ago and is not afraid to use it. When he sees the boxes of frozen pizza in the freezer--"PIZZA!" When walking by the oven, caressing it gently--"PIZZA!" Watching people in restaurants eating their food as we pass by--"PIZZA!" He was recently in the middle of eating some egg noodles for lunch one day and I asked him, "Wessy do you want some more noodles?" "PIZZA MAMA, PIZZA." Ok, lovey, I think I'm getting the picture here.
His current favorite activities are riding his PATIN!, going to the PARKY (or better yet, riding his PATIN to the PARKY), stomping in mud puddles (irrespective of whether he is wearing his new and much-loved blue BOTAS!), meddling with an increasingly resigned Bubba and "reading" books, whereby he recklessly pulls books off the shelf, flips through them manically to find pictures of cars, then yells CAH! and discards the book.
He still smells of milk and hay, which makes no sense since he has no contact with either of those things but I love it anyway. When I do our evening routine of him laying on my chest to fall asleep while I recline on the couch, the first five minutes are usually an inventory of my attire and all my body parts. First he grabs the lapels of my vest and announces triumphantly "ECO!" (chaleco=vest), then pats my sternum vigorously saying "ECCHO" (pecho=chest), then shoves his fingers up my nostrils "MOCOS!!" (mocos=mucous), then pats me on the head "EZA" (cabeza=head), then lastly will pull my hair, "PELO!!!" Yep, all present and accounted for. Another recent bedtime habit of his, acquired from his father, is wanting to be petted. He will often grab my hand and guide it to his hair and mime stroking motions so that I get the drift. There is approximately zero chance he won't wind up exactly like his father, who is a black hole for being petted and needs back rubs like he needs water.
His 18 month appointment is coming up and I'm eager to see where he falls on the growth curve. If I had to guesstimate I'd say his weight and height are barely pushing the tenth percentile but his head is probably 75th percentile plus. I always buy shirts that have buttons in the back or on the shoulder for precisely this reason. He's also up for some S-H-O-T-S which haven't been too tough in the past, but then again he's never been this big or wily before. Well, little buddy, we may live in California but we're not nuts so you're getting them anyway.
And now, what you were all looking for in this post anyway:
Aaaaaand now I hear the familiar strains of my little bear waking up...time to go!
Well...what can I say about Wessy at 18 months? The problem is not that there isn't enough to say, it's that there's TOO MUCH. WAY TOO MUCH. He's a little chipped-tooth tornado wrapped in dirt. He walks and talks and drives a hard bargain. He is so so so busy. One literally cannot look away for a second and expect him to still be in the same place. He is a big fan of blueberries, pizza, books and motor vehicles and cares not a whit for his potty, being told what to do or having any sort of hygiene or grooming activity imposed upon him.
He is becoming more and more verbal, to the point that there is some legitimate two-way communication going on here. One can ask him questions to which he will sometimes reply SI or NO (more often the latter). Last night he told me he wanted AGUA before bed and then when I gave it to him, drank it thirstily. When I ask him if he wants to eat, he runs hungrily to his high chair. When I ask him if he wants to get on the potty, he says NO NO. Apropos of that, I was recently trying to get him on the potty and I started with my usual used-car pitch: "Wessy, if you go poo poo in the potty you can have--" "MOCHI!!!" Note that his understanding that he can get mochi for using the potty correctly is still theoretical in nature.
Last night, we were playing in his room when a great idea occurred to him. He turned and walked out the door, pattered down the hall to the kitchen and stood by his high chair. He looked up at me with his most earnest face and said, "ELADO?" (helado=ice cream). I looked at him and said, nah Wessy, it's late. He looked back at me, changed his tone to a slightly more persuasive one and made his second offer, "ELADO MAMA?" I'm a well-known alcahueta (according to Geraldine) so I hooked him up with a few spoonfuls of ELADO. I'm gunning hard for Favorite Parent.
Also in the excellent parent category, I'm starting to let him watch short snippets of cartoons or youtube videos of trucks here and there if I need to accomplish something. Last night, I discovered the crack cocaine of little boy TV shows: Bob the Builder. This show features anthropomorphic construction equipment acting out fairly primitive narratives. The episode we watched featured an excavator who was sad because the ground was slippery and it was hard to dig. I selfishly let him sit mesmerized in my lap for ten minutes because I wanted the cuddles and he literally never ever sits still without a bribe on board.
When it was over, I turned it off and he looked at me gravely with a hint of alarm and said UH OH! I told him we were done with Bob the Builder for now. He looked at me seriously and said bluntly,
"Bob Builder." I said we were done and he looked at me with concern and repeated, "Bob Builder." I said nothing and he repeated louder "BOB BUILDER!" As my dad would say, there was much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth upon the curtailment of Bob Builder. This morning he has been repeating Bob Builder like an incantation. I must be careful not to abuse the power of Bob Builder.
Another recent development is Wessy's newfound but deep and abiding love for PIZZA. He learned the word a few weeks ago and is not afraid to use it. When he sees the boxes of frozen pizza in the freezer--"PIZZA!" When walking by the oven, caressing it gently--"PIZZA!" Watching people in restaurants eating their food as we pass by--"PIZZA!" He was recently in the middle of eating some egg noodles for lunch one day and I asked him, "Wessy do you want some more noodles?" "PIZZA MAMA, PIZZA." Ok, lovey, I think I'm getting the picture here.
His current favorite activities are riding his PATIN!, going to the PARKY (or better yet, riding his PATIN to the PARKY), stomping in mud puddles (irrespective of whether he is wearing his new and much-loved blue BOTAS!), meddling with an increasingly resigned Bubba and "reading" books, whereby he recklessly pulls books off the shelf, flips through them manically to find pictures of cars, then yells CAH! and discards the book.
He still smells of milk and hay, which makes no sense since he has no contact with either of those things but I love it anyway. When I do our evening routine of him laying on my chest to fall asleep while I recline on the couch, the first five minutes are usually an inventory of my attire and all my body parts. First he grabs the lapels of my vest and announces triumphantly "ECO!" (chaleco=vest), then pats my sternum vigorously saying "ECCHO" (pecho=chest), then shoves his fingers up my nostrils "MOCOS!!" (mocos=mucous), then pats me on the head "EZA" (cabeza=head), then lastly will pull my hair, "PELO!!!" Yep, all present and accounted for. Another recent bedtime habit of his, acquired from his father, is wanting to be petted. He will often grab my hand and guide it to his hair and mime stroking motions so that I get the drift. There is approximately zero chance he won't wind up exactly like his father, who is a black hole for being petted and needs back rubs like he needs water.
His 18 month appointment is coming up and I'm eager to see where he falls on the growth curve. If I had to guesstimate I'd say his weight and height are barely pushing the tenth percentile but his head is probably 75th percentile plus. I always buy shirts that have buttons in the back or on the shoulder for precisely this reason. He's also up for some S-H-O-T-S which haven't been too tough in the past, but then again he's never been this big or wily before. Well, little buddy, we may live in California but we're not nuts so you're getting them anyway.
And now, what you were all looking for in this post anyway:
Aaaaaand now I hear the familiar strains of my little bear waking up...time to go!
Monday, January 30, 2017
Saturday, January 7, 2017
If you give a toddler some frozen yogurt...
..he will want more and more of it.
This afternoon, I took Wessy on a little date. Since they are predicting heavy rains for tomorrow, I was eager to get him out of the house and active as much as I could this afternoon. I pushed him on his new scooter (PATIN!--pronounced "pateen") to the town square. He preceded to take several laps. In a fairly short period of time, he has managed to learn how to first push himself, then to push himself and then lift his feet to glide, and now he has learned to stand up in the seat and put one foot down and use the other to push himself. It's still nice to have the handle on the back for me to steer him--he hasn't picked up on that yet--but I'm wondering if it's only going to be a few short weeks before we lose the seat and just let him ride it like a real scooter.
After many laps, it was getting dark, so we went to Easy Breezy, which is one of those self-serve frozen yogurt places. Since I am more or less like a labrador at those kinds of places and will just eat as much as I can as often as I can, I have restricted myself to going on the weekends. Most weekends, I forget to go, so effectively I go about once a month, which is not terrible. Anyway, Wessy was a willing date.
I purposely got lots of BLUBEEZ (blueberries) and mochi on my frozen yogurt. My little date perched like a bird beside me and willingly accepted little bites. If the steady stream of offerings slowed or ceased, he would lean forward and say in a heart-squeezing baby voice "peas?," and then, if not heeded, "PEEZ??!" He also knows how to say mochi now, which he pronounces with a Spanish accent (mo-CHEE).
My resolve not to give him refined sugar has crumbled before the awesome power of being able to bribe very effectively with a very small amount of treats. Tonight, after our frozen yogurt date, I told him he could have mo-CHEE if he went poopoo in the bacinica (potty). I took off his pants and his diaper and he paced around the bathroom a bit and played with his shape sorter, but when the time came, he announced "POO POO!" and walked over the potty and got the job done.
He is a bit demanding as a date and definitely not the most easygoing, but I would go out with him again :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)