Monday, April 23, 2012

Phone Etiquette

We are one of those families that still has a land line. My son quite enjoys playing with the phone; his play phone just won't do. This is fine, except we've had to call people back, telling them we couldn't pick up because we couldn't find the phone in time.

In a similar vein to How to Do a Wooden Puzzle, I present:

At least the receiver hasn't made its way to the toilet yet.

 Uh oh, did I just jinx myself?

Friday, April 13, 2012

Life According to a 1-Year-Old, Part VII

Part VII:

"Come on, guys, I wanna join too!"

I have written before about Sonny's tendency to climb the pant legs, but nowhere is it seen more often than when my husband and I are in the kitchen trying to make supper or do the dishes. He seems to be convinced we're up to something super-fun up at counter height, and he urgently insists on being lifted up to see, and also to partake (i.e., grab everything that's going on), if we oblige him.

From 2-and-a-half feet off the ground, I guess it might seem like there's a party in the high-up cupboards, and everyone's invited.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Life According to a 1-Year-Old, Part VI

 Part VI:

Owen and his sheep, which USED to be white...

Of course my son had to pick the fluffy white sheep as his favourite. The sheep with delightfully chewable ears. Because it's white, EVERYTHING shows on it. It reminds me of one of my early apartments; no matter how much you clean it, it never looks clean. And we have to take it in public! Why'd he have to pick the white one?

I suppose I can't give him too hard a time, as I did the same thing myself. My favourite take-everywhere toy as a toddler was a white cat named Coot. Note that the picture below is of Coot II, as I had lovingly put Coot I to bed in the oven and my mom accidentally baked him. Coot II was just as well-loved, however. Maybe there is something to the allure of the clean, white toy.

My own favourite (formerly white) cat, Coot II

Monday, April 09, 2012

Life According to a 1-year-Old, Part V

Part V:

I'm all worn out from driving around, and he passes out for 30 seconds in his car seat. Then he wakes up on the way into the house, somehow believes he's napped and is therefore ready for an afternoon of good times. No! you need to sleep some more! Or, otherwise, I need you to sleep some more. Come on, just for a little bit so I can psych myself up for the rest of the day?

No dice.

Sunday, April 08, 2012

Life According to a 1-Year-Old, Part IV

Part IV:

When we go to Gymboree, they bring out the "Busy Box", AKA a big basket full of neat stuff for the babies to pick out and play with. They all focus their efforts, though, trying to pry the maraca out of the hand (or mouth) of their neighbour. Dude, there's a whole basket of maracas for the taking. Oh well, I guess you can't beat the allure of something that is seemingly unavailable.

P.S.: Happy Easter!

Saturday, April 07, 2012

Life According to a 1-Year-Old, Part III

Part III:

Anyone who has a toddler and an open stairwell at home likely also has a pile of debris in the basement. Of course, once everything's been dropped through, he sits there looking all dejected because he's got nothing left to play with.

Friday, April 06, 2012

Life According to a 1-Year-Old, Part II

Part 2:

 Goodness. You'd think I was actually taking his face off. I try all kinds of ways to make it silly or like a game or sing a song, but he howls and thrashes like nobody's business. People must wonder what I'm doing to the poor kid. Sometimes I debate just leaving his face crusty, but I suppose he needs to learn from the start that one at least needs a clean face to go places in life.

Wednesday, April 04, 2012

Life According to a 1-Year-Old

My kid has acquired a lot of wisdom in his first year on Earth. There is much to be learned about what makes the world go 'round by watching a baby-turned-toddler in action.

In that vein, I present you with a six-part series (or more, if I get around to drawing them):

"Life According to a 1-Year-Old".

Part 1:

I don't understand why table food warrants being chucked on the floor (this is not defiance, apparently, but rather is part of his 'discovery of how the world works'... how much left is there to learn by now?), and yet when he finds the same stuff ten minutes later, it's like the gastronomic holy grail. Heck, it doesn't even have to be real food.