Dust ruffled. . .

I hate dust jackets. I find they get in the way and make nice books look cheap. So I normally remove them from all hardcover book that have them. I even did that with our monkeybear's books. They are sitting in a pile under his actual books. This morning he picked up a dust cover, brought it into me, and said "oh no, where pages go?"

Also this morning there was a light dusting of snow on the ground. He didn't like that. He wanted it to go away. He even asked me to clean it up and despite my explaining that I couldn't clean it up he keeps asking.

Every day a new fun interaction. Despite the tantrums, I like two.

First big accident. . .

A week and a half ago we had an incident. The short version is our little MonkeyBear fell out of the cart at Target. The long version? . . .

Target trips are normally fun for our whole family. We get to walk around and look at stuff, we're not big impulse shoppers so we just browse and pick up the usual stuff (fabric softener, deodorant, birthday cards), and the little guy gets to see the demoed talking and walking dinosaur and some other toys. Often he'll want to walk with me and push the cart, once he gets bored with pushing he'll ask to get into the cart.

Normally we just put him in the regular seat like we should, but the past couple trips I had decided to try him in the main cart part. He's getting a little too big for the seat and well I don't know why else. . . I guess because I see other kids in the basket and they look so much happier and I thought "why not."

So on our weekly Target trip two weeks ago I went ahead and let him ride in the main part. He had stuck his arms out a few times to touch things and while we were stopped he stood a couple times, but he seemed to get the concept that I wouldn't move the cart unless he was sitting. We offered to move him to the seat and he fought. He won the battle, we were tired and gave in when we shouldn't have.

Part way through our trip, he stood up, I stopped the cart, he had leaned over the front, and my stopping (to make him sit down) flung him out of the cart. He literally flipped end over end, bumped his head on the cart on the way down, and hit the floor.

I ran and picked him up (as I did I thought I should have checked for neck issues first). He started to cry. My wife ran over too. I didn't see his head. She did. When I did look, above his eye the skin was dented in and blue. I thought for a moment he had crushed his skull. A woman looked around the corner and said she heard everything. She told us to go get ice and snapped us out of our shock.

We went up to the Target snack bar and got ice (in a rubber glove) and started to ice his head. The dent was just on the skin and a few moments after we applied the ice it started to look normal again. We asked him some questions and figured he didn't have a concussion. . . I have to pause for a moment to mention one question we asked. We asked him how old he was and the Target employees who were sitting with us we confused when we were relieved that he answered by saying his name. Until yesterday that was the only way he would answer how old he was.

So we took him home (all the way home he kept saying "I scare mommy daddy"). Once home I called the nurse hotline and, based on our description, we agreed that he seemed fine.

The next day he looked and acted just fine. We needed to finish our half trip to Target. When asked if he wanted to go back to Target he said "no," but once there he was singing his Target song. . . what, your kid doesn't sign a song for Target? His eye bruised a few days later and only looks completely normal now (10 days later).

He doesn't seem to have learned his lesson (he wanted to ride in the main part of the cart on the return trip), but we did. No more riding in the basket of the cart.

Between the sheets. . .

About a month ago I decided it was time to introduce at least a top sheet to our son's crib. For those uninitiated, with a baby you're not supposed to put anything in the crib but the baby. OK and I suppose whatever the baby is wearing.

But there comes a time when you presumably learn to sleep under the covers. Most people do it, but it's something we have to learn at some point. We wanted him to learn that before we even thought about getting him a non-crib bed.

First we went on a quest for sheets of blankets and found nothing. Since a thing called a toddler bed exists and that toddler bed is a crib mattress in a bed frame there has to be someplace to get them, but we never found that place. So I improvised. I took a sheet from my bed, folded it in half and tucked it in so he could sleep under it.

He does just that most nights. But some nights, like last night, he plays in his bed before falling asleep. So when we go to bed he's laying on top of the sheet instead of under it. He's not getting the concept.

Peanut Butter Jelly time!

The MonkeyBear had his two-year checkup last week. He's doing all right in the normal places. He still has a big head. . . he gets that form his mother.

But more importantly we got the go ahead to try peanut butter. So over the weekend we gave him some peanut butter with his normal pancakes—makes my mouth feel dry just thinking about that. We watched and nothing happened for 10 minutes or so. We felt good.

I decided that since we were having peanut putter I'd go ahead and make myself peanut butter and jelly for breakfast. And after the little man had finished the pancake he looked at my peanut butter and jelly with wide eyes. . . so I gave him a bite. A few minutes later his cheeks starts to get a light redish rash. For a few moments we thought we were in trouble, then it hit me. . .

I gave him strawberry preserves.

In the past, he's had a mild reaction to strawberries, but nothing bad enough to be concerned about (strawberry allergies are typically mild). So I don't normally think about it. We gave him peanut butter again the next day with no reaction at all, so we're cleared for PB&J. . . just not if the "J" has strawberries.

Birthday boy...

I couldn't go to bed today without at least a quick happy birthday post. Our little baby boy is two today. Two years ago I was trying to fall asleep in a hospital chair. . . unsuccessfully I might add. It's been a wild ride since then. I'm sure it'll only get wilder.

Where mommy go? . . .

The other day our little monkey bolted out of the kitchen—where I was—through the living room—where his mother was—and down the hall—where, well, no one was. Then he said in his cute little voice, “where mommy go, where daddy go?”

Then he ran back down the hall to the living room, “hi mommy!” Then to the kitchen, “hi daddy!” Then he went right back down the hallway and started the whole things over again.

It could have been the little bit if icing we let him eat (I was working on a cake), or just that he got too long of a nap, but he did that 10-12 times and then sat and played with his trains like the whole thing never happened.

So this is a toddler? I like it.

(picture unrelated, just cute)

Is this thing still on? . . .

You always hear people say “they grow up so fast” or “enjoy them being little while it lasts.” You roll your eyes and ignore the words. Then a couple years blow by and the next thing you know you have a two-year-old who is very good at what two-year-olds do. You wonder when that little, cubby monkey that used to fit in your armpit while napping was replaced by this long, hyper ball of arms and legs. All you can do is assume that someone snuck in and replaced them while they were sleeping

He's talking. No, REALLY talking, not that babbling that he used to do. Real words. AND he's expressing thoughts and ideas. Four or five words phrases sometimes. I know some adults incapable of that. He plays. . . really plays. He uses his toys to tell stories. He names toys that don't come with names. He tells people and things hello and goodbye. He asks us questions, he gives us answers. . .

And it's only going to get worse. I know we're in for more of this. More words, more playing, more real human actions and emotions. He's this whole other person who will be in my life forever. His personality, his mannerisms. . . they're going to be there for years. Before he was just a little lump, something that needed our constant care. Now he's becoming a person.

I know it's early, but his annoying habits are endearing to me. His attitude makes me smile. He has his toddler moments, but he's still mine. . . no, strike that, I'm still his. I hope nothing ever changes that.

Rice cakes. . .

Back in March we had an issue with the MonkeyBear only wanting to eat cheddar cheese flavored, mini rice cakes. Because he asked for them so much we finally had to pull the plug on them. They were becoming a problem. So we got rid of them completely. Once he understood that there were no more rice cakes he stopped asking for them. . .

Fast forward to last week. I thought "I'm sure he's over his addiction we can give them to him again."

Wrong. Now every hour or so that he's awake he walks into the kitchen and says "rice cake?" No matter how many he's had for the day he wants more. And it's only the cheese ones, he doesn't care for the apple cinnamon. We're going to have to take them away again I think.