Mom fail: I bought chunky peanut butter instead of smooth, and A is refusing to eat it, insisting that it is not peanut butter — “Peanut butter no! Peanut butter no!” (Of course, “no” is the first English word that he is readily incorporating into everyday speech). The guilt I feel is absurd, but I think I made up for it by carefully cataloguing the past three days of his stool in tiny little vials for the purposes of laboratory analysis and subsequent determination of exactly what type(s) of parasites are inhabiting his intestines. Speaking of chunky peanut butter… for me, never again.
Yesterday was a big day for A, having an appointment with the international adoption doctor in the morning. We took the train into Boston and walked through Chinatown to Tufts Floating Hospital, where A had a complete physical and developmental exam. In short: the kid’s great. The renowned doctor even commented on his “sophisticated” sense of humor when she was play-checking the ears of various plastic dinosaur figurines before she checked his ears, and he impishly handed her a car. So cute, this kid. This did not excuse him from having his blood drawn, during which he screamed as if he was being lit on fire.
To atone for yesterday’s atrocities, today I took him to the Stone Park Zoo. Any zoo that proudly boasts of their yaks really isn’t that impressive, but hey, it’s nearby and relatively inexpensive. A’s favorites were the gibbons and the llamas; we also spent a good amount of time with the black bears, since they were the only animals that weren’t sleeping or hiding. We had to stare at many of the reptiles and amphibians for some time until they moved and A realized they were animals. I gave up on the motionless gila monster; the turtle took about two minutes of missed eye blinks before A said “Hooo!” (his favorite expression of realization). To my disappointment, he was utterly impassive regarding the owl and unimpressed by the cougar.
A has learned the A-B-C song with help from his Alphaberry, although I am sure he has no idea what any of it means. This is evidenced by this morning’s rendition, when he sang: “Now I know my a b c, next time will you brush your teeth.”
(I think this post pretty much encapsulates the inherently egotistic nature of Mommy-blogging, with its “everything my kid does is cute and wonderful” tone.)
