We’re well into Week 4, and A. is beginning to let it all hang out. In many ways, he’s an embodiment of all terrible 2-3 year old behavior: He’s bossy, willful, prone to hitting, not prone to sharing, and wants to do everything by himself (except play, eat, and toilet). It’s a good thing kids are so cute, or the human race would be long extinct.
Luckily, he has his totally endearing moments. Like when we were all horseplaying on Mr. P ‘s and my bed last Saturday late morning, and he kept saying “tenny” (his word for sleep) to us while stroking our hair and arranging our heads on the pillow, and then, satisfied we were napping, he snuck out of the room. Or when I gave him my Mac to watch YouTube videos of Elmo, and he mimicked what I sometimes say if he overly bothers me while I’m using the Mac: “A. working.” Or when he just comes up to me and hugs my leg. I’ll forgive him most anything.
This week, yet again, the list of foods he has refused to eat is longer than the list of new foods he put into his mouth. I have tried most of the surefire kid junk foods, only to be meet with resistance and a demand for bananas and peanut butter. Surely this is the only kid ever who has refused waffles, french fries, Cheerios, popcorn, soft pretzel, and pizza. Pizza! He refused take-out pizza!
On Sunday, we took A. to the pool at my gym for the recreational swim time (aka Kids Gone Wild). We didn’t expect to get him in the water at all, but he looooved the pool. In two minutes, he was submerged up to his neck and bobbing around in Mr. P’s arms. In 30 minutes, he was doing a supported doggie paddle. And by the time we left 90 minutes later, A was holding our hands and jumping into the pool with enough force to submerge his head. He didn’t want to leave, but I think hunger won out. Hunger for bananas, of course.
A. can count pretty well in English up to 10, although six becomes “sec-es.” Parts of English speech still seem enigmatic to him… anytime anything is cleaned (car, clothes), he’ll say “wash-your-hands.” Trains, cars, trucks, and buses are all still machina, although he is accepting that we call those things something different. Squirrels are rabbits, no matter what I say. He hasn’t picked up as much English as I imagined he would, but I think it will come all at once. One day, he’s going to realize that Mommy and Daddy are talking about him, and it isn’t always about what a little angel he is.
Snack Time on a Hike
Snack Time for the Birds
