tidbits regarding more fun than I can handle:
me: Milo, there is a box full of age-appropriate treasures in the living room, your room, the kitchen and in the bathroom. (read: all over the goddamn house!)
milo: got cds? got knives? got glass? got hair I can pull? got seive?
I have no idea why I gave you a link to seive. How immature. Possibly to distract you from noticing that Milo plays underneath the stove. Don't worry the stove is not in use so much. Usually. I guess. What's a stove?
me: Milo, here's a plastic spoon that is easy to handle, befitting of your mouth and scoops food nicely.
milo: Nah, I like your spoon better. It makes a much cooler sound when I bang it on the booster seat, table, window...see, listen: clang, bang, dang.....clang, bang, dang...hey, look how far I can throw it!!!
me: Milo, here's a shiney, plastic bowl for me to put your oatmeal in. AND it suctions to the table so you can easily scoop your food AND it stays safely on the table!
milo: Nah, I prefer your nice, ceramic bowl that you got as a wedding gift from Crate and Barrel (after clanging the bowl with the metal spoon, takes bowl and throws on the floor, said bowl now in several, broken, sharp pieces)Awesome.
So WHY would I give him this bowl? Because Milo knows the difference between 2.99 and 19.99. I'm not even kidding. He will eat the shit out of some oatmeal or other food if it's in a "grown-up" bowl. Otherwise, he'll just play with the food...it's like he is testing me. I totally passed. Sort of.
On the bright side, Milo is becoming more and more proficient with using a fork and spoon. Though he gets much more practice with the spoon (I don't trust his flailing hands with a fork so much yet!). He's becoming more insistent on feeding himself...of course, this is a mixture of bitter and sweet for me...(warning! warm fuzzy coming...)It's amazing how just a short time ago he was drinking from 4oz bottles every 2 hours, nestled in my arms, (at 2am, 3:30am, 5am...) and now he can feed himself oatmeal with a spoon, pick up french fries green beans with that good 'ol pincer grasp, and take a bite straight from a banana...all at a normal hour!
I'm not sure which I'm more
He's also getting better at communicating. When I say "let's go upstairs" he knows exactly where to walk himself toward. Then he'll stop at the gate, grab my hand and place it on the locked part in order to open and let us through...He's long since crawled up and down the stairs, and now (with assistance) he can walk back down the stairs!
He's also good at letting me put on his shoes! This is a very exciting thing for me, seriously! I had some anxiety regarding the whole shoe thing. I would flippantly say that he's a summer-born, barefoot, dread locks here we come, tree huggin', fuck the man kind of guy...but in reality I just didn't want to wrestle with him. Diaper changes, snapping a onesie, pulling on pants and socks were and sometimes continue to be a wrestling match. Except now we're all done with onesies...oh, thank god! So it's a huge relief that once I found the right size and kind of shoe (go Wal-mart! -Granimals, size 6 if anybody is thinking x-mass, just sayin') he gives me easy access to feet!
Let's go mama! I'm ready! Except this Maryland sweatshirt is a tad too small...notice the sleeves! I'm nearly 16 months! This is a 12 month sweatshirt! Arrrggghhh! Get with it, lady!
Let's go mama! I'm ready! Except this Maryland sweatshirt is a tad too small...notice the sleeves! I'm nearly 16 months! This is a 12 month sweatshirt! Arrrggghhh! Get with it, lady!
Which leads me to the moment he learned how to open the front door. And then walk off the porch. Out into the abyss which is outsidewithoutaparentOMFG!!!
So clearly, I've pulled in my suppport team, came up with a game plan, and Fort Knox'd this bitch.
That is, until he figures out how to unlock said door. You know, move the lever thing from right to left. I figure I've got a good 6 inches and few months before I need to care about this again.
ok, last cute new thing update: Since he can open the front door and walk down the stairs. It's now become a part of our routine to actually walk out together. I'm not carrying the 26 pounder to the car! I know. I know. And as he is holding my hand he guides me to his side of the car and tries to open the door.
let's all take a moment here to gather ourselves.
Right there is a little bit of genuis.
It's like he's going for some sort of trophy, medal, or ribbon for how many new things can I do this week?! But not the white Participant bullshit ribbons. I got plenty of those when I was on a swim team in middle school. Big balls-out deal...So let's clap for being like daddy!!! Go Red Ribbons!
Ahem, it's the process not the product. The game not the score, the high five not the pat on the ass. Shit, I know there's a lesson or a trite saying that I need to prepare when I'm
Where was I? Oh yeah, age appropriate words of encouragment during those times the universe opens up an opportunity to learn, grow, mature....
I love how at times he'll look at me intently in the eyes and babble something "nanana, mamama, ya. ya."
Yes. He is still MAD for the bouncy seat. He's probably WAY over the weight limit. Probably.
He's gotten good at following through with the command, "Give to mama." In the bath, when he is "all done" he would just throw the toys out of the tub. Now he gets a kick out of placing each object in my hand. He also has entered the stage of just ramdonly giving me objects, whether I ask for them or not. And when I tell him, "Thank You!" he beams with such pride! The "I'm such a good boy, I did something good" smile. Makes my whole day...
So what's next in the land of learning?
learning how to braid mama's hair...






