Admission: I'm almost as bad a blogger as I am email-returner and voicemail-listener. The upside is that I can now add that to the list of career options that are definitely off the table:
That said, one of my New Year's Resolutions was to write more regularly, mostly so I can have a lasting record of this time in my life. It's almost March, so yes, I'm technically behind--but I've also been living in the arctic tundra for two months. (Boston is where shoes come to die.) I'll start writing regularly when the T starts running regularly.
Bah.
So here's my quick "snapshot in time"...
Owen thinks he's a man. No, correction: he knows he's a man and he hates being called a boy. We left the doctor's office recently and the unsuspecting doc innocently told Owen to "be a good boy." Meltdown. Owen to doctor: "I am NOT a boy! I am a MAN! I am a big strong MAN!" Okay, medical records updated accordingly.
Luckily, he's backing up his outlandish claim with some behaviors to prove it. He woke up from a nap last week and went directly into the kitchen, opened the freezer, got out a frozen waffle, pulled a stool over to the toaster, and cooked himself a snack. When I commented that I was impressed with his self-sufficience, he nonchalantly responded: "That's what mans do for their selves." So be it.
Eliza is [still] obsessed with clothes. My last post was about her love of shoes; now it's poured out into all areas of wearables. It's actually nothing short of terrifying. When a 20-month-old refuses 4 pairs of pants, complete with adolescent angst ("Uhh...not pretty!!"), you know that it's going to be a long road from here to 18.
The silver-lining is that describing anything as "pretty" instantly changes her trajectory. "Eliza, do you want to come put on a new diaper?" "NO!" "Eliza, do you want to come put on a new pretty diaper?" "Yes!!!!" At some point, we'll have to stop encouraging this (hey, she started it), but for now "pretty" is the easiest trick in our box.
No comments:
Post a Comment