Cookies for Breakfast.

I was getting ready for the day when I noticed that Oliver was mysteriously silent in the other room. I walked out to the kitchen and found him up on our high bar stool chairs, chocolate smeared on his face and belly.

Oliver climbed up onto the stool, climbed up onto the counter, grabbed the bag of monster cookies, and then sat back down at the counter to have a civilized breakfast.  That part just kills me. The fact that he felt like he had to sit on the chair and eat them at the counter. Like an adult. Like Jared & I would.

When I confronted him about climbing onto the counters, he didn't have much to say for himself.

In fact, I think he was quite proud.

"Were you eating a cookie?"
"Cookie."
"Well, at least, was it good?"
"Mmmm...."




I told a friend of mine this story and she said, "How do you keep yourself from laughing at situations like that?"

I don't.

Conversations with my (not actually) two year old.

Dinner is always interesting with Oliver. He wanted to call his grandma on the phone, but she was out. We made a video message for her instead. This is what typically takes place around our dinner table each night.



If you watch, you can see that he has a couple of problems with counting the numbers two and four. Why two and four, you ask?

Somehow, in his head, Oliver is convinced that he is two. He isn't. But he's still convinced. Whenever he counts and the number two comes up, he must tell everyone that he  "...is TWO!"

Finally, we overcome the issue with two and three comes out okay, but four is another temptation. It sounds like he's yelling "Eeee, Eee, Four!" but he's really (trying) saying "I am THOR!" He cannot distinguish between "Thor" and that stupid number after three.

Why does he say this? Because my mom bought him a toy hammer, and he loved to carry it around. Jared, seeing the tiny boy with a giant hammer, told him he looked like Thor, the hammer wielding Norse god.

Not pictured: My child.

Seeing how hilarious we thought it was when he yelled "I.... am.... THOR!" he now takes every opportunity to do just that. And if you have to do that in the middle of counting? Well, you have to.


In fact, when the second video starts, you catch the tail end of another "I... am... THOR!!!!"




Here are subtitles for the second movie:

Oliver reaches for the pitcher on the table.
Me: No, don't touch everything. You're kind of gross. You need to take a bath.
A spoon falls to the floor.
Oliver: Ooooooo-oops!
Me: Oops.
Oliver: It drop!
Me: Yeah, it did drop.
Oliver: Woops! (unintelligible) ..Yogurt? Yogurt! Yogurt. Yogurt. Yogurt.
Me: You want yogurt now?
Oliver: I like it.
Me: I know you like it.
Oliver: But. But I('m) yucky.
Me: But you're yucky. laughs
Oliver:  But..... ....Juice. Juice.
Me: Now you want juice instead?
Oliver: Uh huh.
Me: What kind of juice do you want?
Oliver: Orange juice.
Me: You want apple or grape?
Oliver: App-changes mind Grape!Uh huh.
Me: Uh huh. laughs Alright, well.. Let's clean you up a little bit and then you can have a little bit of juice, okay? Say goodbye to Grandma.
Oliver: Grandma, bye Grandma!

Don't you all want to come over to dinner now that you see what you're missing?

My baby.

So, since my last post I've decided Oliver's molars are really bothering him. He is now refusing almost all solid foods. And he's been going to bed at 6:30.

Lately since it's been getting colder and he's been trying to walk, I've had to dress him up more. No more little one piece rompers with puppies and smiling cartoon dinos. He's wearing jeans. A hardcore leather jacket. Long sleeve shirts with monsters and aliens and rock star graphics. And even... shoes, dare I say, socks! He wears classier, finer, and more clothes than the average West Virginian. He looks so grown up.

He tries to brush his own hair. He tries to buckle himself into his car seat. He holds the leash when my parents walk the dog. He knows where specific pieces of his toys belong, and puts them there. He does all kinds of things that seem like no big deal, but when you consider that a year ago he was still living off of my (ew) placenta and unable to even focus his eyes... Yeah. It's a pretty big deal. I am just the tiniest bit proud.

He's starting to try some words on for size. He says "mo"  or "mom" for more. He knows that cows go moo, dogs go woof woof, and kisses go "muah." And now that he's starting to walk? He just seems so big.

So big, in fact, that he sits forward facing in the car now.

Lots of people say, "But don't you miss when he was a tiny baby!?"

 I don't. At least I don't miss it right now.

Because he is becoming so much more person-like, so much less dog-like. Because I like that he is happy to see me. Because I like that he has his own personality. Because it is good to know that all of the work I do for him is actually contributing to something more than poop and spit up. Because I just like who he is turning out to be.

And while we can go out on family dates to the zoo, and he can watch monkeys and imitate their sounds...

...And while we can have deep, meaningful conversations about animals...




...And while we can build cardboard box forts together...

...And while he can stand up to beg for a Rice Crispies treat...

...When he falls asleep, he is still a little baby, no matter how I dress him up.

Garage Sale Sunday

I have a lot of miscellaneous videos, so I thought I'd make a collection for your enjoyment.



Oliver eating Kiwi.




This is how hard it is to get pictures of two babies smiling.





This is Oliver just enjoying some play time with his daddy.





This is Oliver on the plane ride to Oregon last July.





This is Oliver & Jess after a dip in the pool.





This is Oliver, laughing one more time. Because he is happy. :)


(Once again, if you're viewing from email, you may have to visit the actual site to be able to watch the videos.)