Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Month 32, or Some Things That Are Big
Dear Corbin,
It's been a pretty quiet month for us. Your uncle Alex headed out to spend about three months in the Persian Gulf. I managed to see him before he left, on a trip for a museum event in Norfolk. Aunt Lena is coming here for Thanksgiving, so we're all looking forward to that. I brought you home a crab stuffed animal, since you like anything with "big grabbers." You actually ended up with several new toys this month. Holy Name had their big rummage sale, so now Grandma and Grandpa have a train set at their apartment, too. You also went to Madison with them, and came back with a giant motorized back-hoe.
Most of the leaves have fallen off the tree in our front yard, but the two by the street are still hanging on. We did round one of raking in the front, which you enjoyed this year because you had your own little rake to use. You especially enjoyed raking apart the piles that we were making. Then you helped Dad take the leaves back to the raspberry patch in the wagon. You pulled the wagon yourself for a few trips, and then had fun riding with leaves covering you up to your chest. When we took your shoes and pants off later, you had the predictable amount of leaves all over your socks and underwear.
We're still working on the potty training. Some days are more successful than others. You've had a couple of nights where you want to go potty after lights out, so we need to add that to our brush teeth time in the bathroom. You do seem to enjoy deciding which underpants to wear in the morning, though, and I really laughed one day when you had an accident and then told me, "I pooped on Thomas!"
Other funny things you have said lately:
Lock me up! [while sitting in Arrow's crate]
I like to eat bacon.
Let's do it!
Can I have it? Can I have it please? I said please! [said without pauses]
Me, about the train track I put together: I'm amazing! You: You're NOT amazing.
Dad finished building your twin bed, so on Saturday we moved the couch out (into the van, to go back to Madison) and put your big bed in your room. We picked up a mattress, and I even grabbed some sheets at Target for it, so it's all put together and made up. Unfortunately, it's destroyed any sense of organization (never mind the feng shui) in your room because it's larger than the couch. We're going to have to take another couple of days to figure out how to rearrange the rest of the furniture so that everything fits again. We were going to have to do some of that in order to fit baby stuff in anyway, of course, but I didn't expect quite this much. It's always such a trial when we have to organize something. I get all excited and make great plans, and then your father mocks me, and then I get revenge by making him go to Ikea.
I think the furniture change is combining with some normal toddler sleep disruption to make life difficult, too. You're at the age where nightmares can start, and they just might have. You got all interested in storm clouds and lightning and tornadoes the other day. We have a Charlie Brown encyclopedia about the weather, and you like to page through it until you get to the picture of the tornado and the page about lightning. The first day that you brought it up, I tried to find some good storm footage on Youtube. Epic Mom Fail. You were up at 9pm that night, telling me all about how you thought there was lightning outside and asking me if tornadoes would come in the house. I don't know if you hadn't been to sleep yet, or if you actually had a bad dream, but I felt pretty stupid for encouraging you earlier.
We went to visit a second Montessori preschool. There were things we liked more than the first one, and things we liked less. Neither of those schools had an opening for you, but we'll go visit a third school in November which might. That school is close to the Sculpture Garden and the Walker Art Center, which sounds great until I start thinking that you'll grow up wanting to be a modern artist. (Although, at least if you become a sculpture artist, you'll probably learn how to weld, and that would be awesome.) I found myself watching you play trains all weekend and thinking, Too bad there isn't a preschool that emphasizes playing with trains. You would ace that curriculum.
The biggest news this month has taken place far outside of our little home sphere. Politics around the world seem to be changing very quickly, and I wonder how your adult life will be affected. So many people today are calling loudly for social and economic changes. I wonder if they will happen, and how. I am not a person who joins in movements, who goes to protests or espouses causes. I'm happy to vote for people who I believe will work toward goals that I agree with. I'm happy to email the mayor with an idea. I'm happy to email my Congressmen and -women. If you become a person who is happy to protest and march, I hope that you will do it with respect. I hope that you will remember that systems can be improved from both the outside and from the inside, from the bottom and from the top, and that meeting in the middle is a worthy outcome. And I hope that you write clever signs and that I don't have to bail you out of jail too many times.
Love,
Mom
It's been a pretty quiet month for us. Your uncle Alex headed out to spend about three months in the Persian Gulf. I managed to see him before he left, on a trip for a museum event in Norfolk. Aunt Lena is coming here for Thanksgiving, so we're all looking forward to that. I brought you home a crab stuffed animal, since you like anything with "big grabbers." You actually ended up with several new toys this month. Holy Name had their big rummage sale, so now Grandma and Grandpa have a train set at their apartment, too. You also went to Madison with them, and came back with a giant motorized back-hoe.
Most of the leaves have fallen off the tree in our front yard, but the two by the street are still hanging on. We did round one of raking in the front, which you enjoyed this year because you had your own little rake to use. You especially enjoyed raking apart the piles that we were making. Then you helped Dad take the leaves back to the raspberry patch in the wagon. You pulled the wagon yourself for a few trips, and then had fun riding with leaves covering you up to your chest. When we took your shoes and pants off later, you had the predictable amount of leaves all over your socks and underwear.
We're still working on the potty training. Some days are more successful than others. You've had a couple of nights where you want to go potty after lights out, so we need to add that to our brush teeth time in the bathroom. You do seem to enjoy deciding which underpants to wear in the morning, though, and I really laughed one day when you had an accident and then told me, "I pooped on Thomas!"
Other funny things you have said lately:
Lock me up! [while sitting in Arrow's crate]
I like to eat bacon.
Let's do it!
Can I have it? Can I have it please? I said please! [said without pauses]
Me, about the train track I put together: I'm amazing! You: You're NOT amazing.
Dad finished building your twin bed, so on Saturday we moved the couch out (into the van, to go back to Madison) and put your big bed in your room. We picked up a mattress, and I even grabbed some sheets at Target for it, so it's all put together and made up. Unfortunately, it's destroyed any sense of organization (never mind the feng shui) in your room because it's larger than the couch. We're going to have to take another couple of days to figure out how to rearrange the rest of the furniture so that everything fits again. We were going to have to do some of that in order to fit baby stuff in anyway, of course, but I didn't expect quite this much. It's always such a trial when we have to organize something. I get all excited and make great plans, and then your father mocks me, and then I get revenge by making him go to Ikea.
I think the furniture change is combining with some normal toddler sleep disruption to make life difficult, too. You're at the age where nightmares can start, and they just might have. You got all interested in storm clouds and lightning and tornadoes the other day. We have a Charlie Brown encyclopedia about the weather, and you like to page through it until you get to the picture of the tornado and the page about lightning. The first day that you brought it up, I tried to find some good storm footage on Youtube. Epic Mom Fail. You were up at 9pm that night, telling me all about how you thought there was lightning outside and asking me if tornadoes would come in the house. I don't know if you hadn't been to sleep yet, or if you actually had a bad dream, but I felt pretty stupid for encouraging you earlier.
We went to visit a second Montessori preschool. There were things we liked more than the first one, and things we liked less. Neither of those schools had an opening for you, but we'll go visit a third school in November which might. That school is close to the Sculpture Garden and the Walker Art Center, which sounds great until I start thinking that you'll grow up wanting to be a modern artist. (Although, at least if you become a sculpture artist, you'll probably learn how to weld, and that would be awesome.) I found myself watching you play trains all weekend and thinking, Too bad there isn't a preschool that emphasizes playing with trains. You would ace that curriculum.
The biggest news this month has taken place far outside of our little home sphere. Politics around the world seem to be changing very quickly, and I wonder how your adult life will be affected. So many people today are calling loudly for social and economic changes. I wonder if they will happen, and how. I am not a person who joins in movements, who goes to protests or espouses causes. I'm happy to vote for people who I believe will work toward goals that I agree with. I'm happy to email the mayor with an idea. I'm happy to email my Congressmen and -women. If you become a person who is happy to protest and march, I hope that you will do it with respect. I hope that you will remember that systems can be improved from both the outside and from the inside, from the bottom and from the top, and that meeting in the middle is a worthy outcome. And I hope that you write clever signs and that I don't have to bail you out of jail too many times.
Love,
Mom
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Month 31, or With Underwear and Potties for All
Dear Corbin,
You are 31 months now and working on some pretty big milestones. You started on potty training, and you're going to be a big brother. We've also started looking into preschool for you, and building a twin bed for you. Your life is going to change a lot next year. I hope you're ready for it.
This month has been fairly routine, after all of the here-and-there of the summer. We spent Labor Day weekend doing projects around the house and yard. Dad and I finished painting the red wall in the living room, and Grandma and I moved some peony plants around in the yard. Dad waged war on some of the trees that are growing in places we don't want them. The weather was pretty warm, but it was good be getting things done. We also went shopping on that Monday and bought you real underpants. You wanted the ones with Yo Gabba Gabba on them, and the ones with Buzz Lightyear.
You're always happy to help us with chores that we're doing, especially if they involve some kind of tool. Sometimes you'll get tired of it and go off to play with something else, which is fine, too. I like the idea that you can both help us and also be independent. I know that Dad and I are both looking forward to when we're really able to do start teaching you skills instead of simply giving you experiences. I hope that you develop your own interests and hobbies, but I'll be really happy if they happen to intersect things that we like, too.
The week after Labor Day you started your adventures in potty training. You wear diapers or pull-ups in the mornings, so that Grandma and Grandpa can still take you out to breakfast and such. Then you switch to underpants in the afternoon so you can practice using the big potty all the time. So far, you're doing pretty well. You had lots of accidents at first, of course, and we did a lot of laundry that week. I actually picked up some more underpants (Thomas the Train, this time) so that we wouldn't run out so fast. Usually you tell us when you needed to potty, which was good, but sometimes it was in the middle of a walk, which meant you still ended up in wet pants. Sometimes I bug you about it, and you tell me no, no, no, and then end up with wet pants because you don't want to stop playing. I think the most frustrated I have seen you over anything to do with the potty was the time you wanted to flush it twice in a row, and I ended up having to explain to you that the water tank needs time to fill up again. I thought I might actually have to take the cover off and actually show you, but I'm glad I didn't, because Lord knows what kind of game that would have become. There have also been a couple of times that you wanted to stand up and pee, which is fine, except for your lack of aim, of course.
You seem to be okay with that part of your life changing, which is a relief. I hope that you won't fine the other changes that are coming very hard either. My plan is to put a twin bed in your room in the next month, and then by the time Baby needs to sleep in the crib, you'll have happily traded it for the big bed. I'm prepared to bribe you with Thomas the Train sheets, but I'm hoping that won't be necessary. Your bed time has started to be challenging as you start asserting that you don't want to go upstairs for your bath. You say things like, "I have to play trains!" and "Let's do it later," or simply, "I can't!" Some nights I have to resort to carrying you upstairs while you yell, "Put you down!" and "Let go of me!" Usually you manage to have some fun in the bath, once we're finally there. I suppose I should confess that there was one night that I ended your tantrum by telling you to squirt Dad with water. That may have been the night that he started taking his shirt off when he gives you a bath. I have no regrets.
Next Monday we're going to visit a preschool that you might go to starting early next year. Our friends Doug and Cindy send their son Adrian there--they've said good things about it. It's a Montessori school, which we like. I think that Montessori is great for pre-school, and I think that you would like it. I don't know what kind of elementary school we would choose yet. It's overwhelming sometimes to realize that we are already starting to be serious about your schooling. We want you to have good experiences in school, for many different reasons. Your father found it hard to be happy in school, whereas I found it somewhat easier, but both of us had our challenges. I hope that you will always tell us what you're thinking and feeling about school. I know our expectations for you will be high, but you should never interpret that to mean that we don't love you. You may, however, interpret it to mean that, "I have to play trains," will not get you out of homework any more than it gets you out of bathtime.
Mostly, I hope that you enjoy preschool so that when Baby gets here, you won't feel as though your whole life has been taken over by your sibling. That will, of course, be true (especially if you listen to your Uncle Alex's version of our childhood), but I don't want you to feel like it's true. Many parents talk about feeling that they couldn't love a second child as much as they love their first child. I tend to be more concerned that you won't feel as loved as you really are. You have so many people who love you, sweet boy, and we always will.
Love,
Mom
You are 31 months now and working on some pretty big milestones. You started on potty training, and you're going to be a big brother. We've also started looking into preschool for you, and building a twin bed for you. Your life is going to change a lot next year. I hope you're ready for it.
This month has been fairly routine, after all of the here-and-there of the summer. We spent Labor Day weekend doing projects around the house and yard. Dad and I finished painting the red wall in the living room, and Grandma and I moved some peony plants around in the yard. Dad waged war on some of the trees that are growing in places we don't want them. The weather was pretty warm, but it was good be getting things done. We also went shopping on that Monday and bought you real underpants. You wanted the ones with Yo Gabba Gabba on them, and the ones with Buzz Lightyear.
You're always happy to help us with chores that we're doing, especially if they involve some kind of tool. Sometimes you'll get tired of it and go off to play with something else, which is fine, too. I like the idea that you can both help us and also be independent. I know that Dad and I are both looking forward to when we're really able to do start teaching you skills instead of simply giving you experiences. I hope that you develop your own interests and hobbies, but I'll be really happy if they happen to intersect things that we like, too.
The week after Labor Day you started your adventures in potty training. You wear diapers or pull-ups in the mornings, so that Grandma and Grandpa can still take you out to breakfast and such. Then you switch to underpants in the afternoon so you can practice using the big potty all the time. So far, you're doing pretty well. You had lots of accidents at first, of course, and we did a lot of laundry that week. I actually picked up some more underpants (Thomas the Train, this time) so that we wouldn't run out so fast. Usually you tell us when you needed to potty, which was good, but sometimes it was in the middle of a walk, which meant you still ended up in wet pants. Sometimes I bug you about it, and you tell me no, no, no, and then end up with wet pants because you don't want to stop playing. I think the most frustrated I have seen you over anything to do with the potty was the time you wanted to flush it twice in a row, and I ended up having to explain to you that the water tank needs time to fill up again. I thought I might actually have to take the cover off and actually show you, but I'm glad I didn't, because Lord knows what kind of game that would have become. There have also been a couple of times that you wanted to stand up and pee, which is fine, except for your lack of aim, of course.
You seem to be okay with that part of your life changing, which is a relief. I hope that you won't fine the other changes that are coming very hard either. My plan is to put a twin bed in your room in the next month, and then by the time Baby needs to sleep in the crib, you'll have happily traded it for the big bed. I'm prepared to bribe you with Thomas the Train sheets, but I'm hoping that won't be necessary. Your bed time has started to be challenging as you start asserting that you don't want to go upstairs for your bath. You say things like, "I have to play trains!" and "Let's do it later," or simply, "I can't!" Some nights I have to resort to carrying you upstairs while you yell, "Put you down!" and "Let go of me!" Usually you manage to have some fun in the bath, once we're finally there. I suppose I should confess that there was one night that I ended your tantrum by telling you to squirt Dad with water. That may have been the night that he started taking his shirt off when he gives you a bath. I have no regrets.
Next Monday we're going to visit a preschool that you might go to starting early next year. Our friends Doug and Cindy send their son Adrian there--they've said good things about it. It's a Montessori school, which we like. I think that Montessori is great for pre-school, and I think that you would like it. I don't know what kind of elementary school we would choose yet. It's overwhelming sometimes to realize that we are already starting to be serious about your schooling. We want you to have good experiences in school, for many different reasons. Your father found it hard to be happy in school, whereas I found it somewhat easier, but both of us had our challenges. I hope that you will always tell us what you're thinking and feeling about school. I know our expectations for you will be high, but you should never interpret that to mean that we don't love you. You may, however, interpret it to mean that, "I have to play trains," will not get you out of homework any more than it gets you out of bathtime.
Mostly, I hope that you enjoy preschool so that when Baby gets here, you won't feel as though your whole life has been taken over by your sibling. That will, of course, be true (especially if you listen to your Uncle Alex's version of our childhood), but I don't want you to feel like it's true. Many parents talk about feeling that they couldn't love a second child as much as they love their first child. I tend to be more concerned that you won't feel as loved as you really are. You have so many people who love you, sweet boy, and we always will.
Love,
Mom
Monday, August 22, 2011
Month 30, or Officially 2 1/2
Dear Corbin,
You survived the camping trip! You got to stay up late and eat smores. You spent hours every day playing in the sand with your cousins. You threw many rocks into Lake Superior. You ate fish fry and got a boat ride from Uncle Mark. You became a stinky feral child who cried his way through a bath the first night back at the Cottage. Fortunately, you have recovered some veneer of civilization again since you've been home.
You donated several pints of blood to the mosquito population, of course, but that's to be expected. I said to your Dad last night that I hope you grow enough arm hair to cover up any scars left from you scratching your bug bites. You also have a lump on the right side of your neck, which we assume is bug bite, but I made you a doctor appointment anyway. You have your own explanation for it. You heard us talking about your "lump" and how it must be a "bite," and then told us that it's a heffalump bite.
You've made progress sorting out your pronouns, and your tenses are starting to appear, which we can tell because you've started narrating your life in declarative sentences. You know the difference between, "I'm running," versus, "I ran." You've also started the typical adding "ed" to anything to make it past tense; "I throwed it," or "I stealed it (about my coffee thermos)." And we keep parrotting things back to you, in order to either reinforce concepts, or correct grammar, or correct pronunciation.
Speaking of parrots, you met one the other day. Our neighbors' son had his pet parrot over at their house, and you and Dad went out in the back yard and got to see him up close. I don't know exactly what happened, but you came back in the house with almond crumbs all over your chin.
I love asking you what you think, when you ask me questions. The other day, you heard Dad's table saw going in the garage. You asked me, "What's Dad doing?" I said something like, "It sounds like he's making something. What do you think he's making?" You said, "A hot air balloon!"
In house news, we have finished painting the wall in the living room. Now we must hang up the curtains and move the furniture back, and it will all be back to normal. Maybe. Your train set was originally in a corner by that wall, but I moved it to under the window in the dining room. I had intended to move it back when we were done with the wall, but you seem to have declared public domain on the dining room because the train track now stretches over six feet of real estate. Train sets appear to share the property with gases; they expand to the size of their container.
We've gotten to the point where you have some of your books memorized. Before bedtime the other night, I was making you "read" "One Fish Two Fish." You knew almost every phrase on the first dozen pages or so, and lots of the rhymes later in the book. You also have set responses for specific events in some books, and every time we get to those pages, we have the same dialog. That's the fun of having the same books for a long time. One thing that has changed is the songs that you request from me at bedtime. It's a struggle to accommodate you sometimes, but I do my best. The songs you requested the other night were, in order:
The spider song
The great great great big spider song
The pufferfish song
The big pufferfish song
The big spiny pufferfish song
The teeny teeny teeny tiny pufferfish song
The rainbow song
Twinkle twinkle twinkle twinkle twinkle little star
You've also requested the Corbin song and the Corbin sleeps song, the Pooh song, the grasshopper song, the Cat in the Hat song, and when I've been out of town you've asked Dad for the Mama come home song. You certainly give our imaginations a work out, but there's nothing better than sitting in the rocking chair with you for a snuggle.
Love,
Mom
Cousins camping:
At the Cottage:
Wall primed and painted:
Jodi and Wan Ling over for breakfast. Jodi made you a leaf garland:
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
Month 29, or Where did July go?
Dear Corbin,
This summer has continued with a heat wave that simply defies adjectives. It's been very disappointing. I was planning on spending lovely weekends playing outside in the yard. Instead, we've holed up in the house with the air conditioners on, sitting in front of fans and watching lots of episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba! on Netflix streaming. Our yard has turned into a buggy jungle dotted with toadstools. The dogs have been to the dog park once in four weeks. Our electric bill is higher than it's ever been before. Summer has never been my favorite season and this year I am definitely ready for fall.
At the same time, July seems to have flown past us. You came back from the trip to VA addicted to listening to a cd of Cat in the Hat stories to go to sleep. This is fine with me, since it means I don't have to stand in your room singing songs for half an hour anymore. You've also started saying, "Get more baby blankies," which I think is funny. I try to limit you to four, in case I want one to put over you later. Sometimes you lay down and say, "Put baby blankies on him," and sometimes you just smoosh them up under your face or under your pillow. You've also started asking me to leave the door open when I leave your room, which is only fine with me because you sleep through noise so well.
One of the interesting things that the trip taught you was about fire alarms. You noticed our smoke detector in the hallway upstairs and said, "Alarm makes noise." It took me a minute to remember that the fire alarm had gone off in one of the hotels on your trip and woken you all up early in the morning. So far, that's the one noise that I can think of that you haven't slept through.
We had our 4th of July party, which was really fun. You spent a long time kicking your little soccer ball around with Grandpa Lam and then clapping for yourself. Doug and Adrian brought over a scooter to lend to us, and you learned how to ride that in about a millisecond. The next week, Grandma Lam and I took you to Toys R Us to buy you a helmet. You very loudly refused to let me try it on your head in the store, but that afternoon when we were going to go down the block to a party at Kim and Andy's, I said, "Do you want to ride your scooter?" and you said, "Ride scooter! Put helmet on!" You barely waited for me to cut the tags off. Goodness knows what we would have done if it hadn't fit.
Your vocabulary is getting quite big, and you keep surprising us with things that you say and know. Today at the dinner table you counted all the way up to fourteen. This afternoon you said to Grandma Lam, "Flowers in Liz's yard," and she hadn't heard you use a possessive before that. You're starting to sort out your pronouns, too. You have started knowing the stories in the books that we read. The other day I stopped reading a Curious George book because I thought you weren't paying attention, but you looked at me and said, "Read rest of book." One of the funniest things that you've said recently had to do with the cat. You like to help scoop out the litter box in the basement. One morning I was filling up Laney's food dish, and you said, "Go down and scoop poop." I said, "There's no poop in the litter box right now." You said, "Go down and poop, Laney."
You've also gotten obsessed with puffer fish. I showed you one at the fish store one day, and now you make us draw puffer fish and puff up our cheeks and every time you see a picture of a large-ish fish it's automatically a puffer fish. I was in Chicago for a conference last week, and one of the museums that I got to visit was the Shedd Aquarium. I managed to get a couple of photos of a huge puffer fish at the aquarium. But your actual souvenir was a stuffed triceratops from the Field Museum. I had meant to see more of the Field, but the dinosaurs were so amazing that I totally lost of track of time and was in that gallery for at least an hour. I also got to see the U boat at the Museum of Science and Industry, and I got you one of the old-fashioned molded wax statues of it that you can do in the machine for two dollars. It's going to be a lot of fun when you're a little bit older and we can take some trips to Chicago to see those museums.
But now you're off on another trip with Grandma and Grandpa Lam. First to Madison, then to Menominee, and then way up north in the UP on the family camping trip. You've never been camping before, of course, and I'm hoping that all will go well and that you won't be miserable with bug bites or not able to sleep the whole time. I'm sure you'll be fine and have lots of fun, but I won't be able to call you on the cell phone, so that will be hard for me. Dad and I will meet you at the Cottage the next weekend so we can all go to my cousin Jenny's wedding. I'll be happy to see you! Hopefully, in the meantime, the weather in Minneapolis will be nice and we can finish painting the wall in the living room and the railing on the mud room roof. Having those chores done would feel good. The good part about missing you is that I try to fill up my time doing something useful. Of course, the longer you're gone, the more of your college education goes to Dad and I eating dinner out at restaurants, so you might want to keep that in mind.
Love,
Mom
We started redecorating a wall in the living room:
Mr "Where's my helmet?"
You creating a Zen car garden in your sand box:
This summer has continued with a heat wave that simply defies adjectives. It's been very disappointing. I was planning on spending lovely weekends playing outside in the yard. Instead, we've holed up in the house with the air conditioners on, sitting in front of fans and watching lots of episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba! on Netflix streaming. Our yard has turned into a buggy jungle dotted with toadstools. The dogs have been to the dog park once in four weeks. Our electric bill is higher than it's ever been before. Summer has never been my favorite season and this year I am definitely ready for fall.
At the same time, July seems to have flown past us. You came back from the trip to VA addicted to listening to a cd of Cat in the Hat stories to go to sleep. This is fine with me, since it means I don't have to stand in your room singing songs for half an hour anymore. You've also started saying, "Get more baby blankies," which I think is funny. I try to limit you to four, in case I want one to put over you later. Sometimes you lay down and say, "Put baby blankies on him," and sometimes you just smoosh them up under your face or under your pillow. You've also started asking me to leave the door open when I leave your room, which is only fine with me because you sleep through noise so well.
One of the interesting things that the trip taught you was about fire alarms. You noticed our smoke detector in the hallway upstairs and said, "Alarm makes noise." It took me a minute to remember that the fire alarm had gone off in one of the hotels on your trip and woken you all up early in the morning. So far, that's the one noise that I can think of that you haven't slept through.
We had our 4th of July party, which was really fun. You spent a long time kicking your little soccer ball around with Grandpa Lam and then clapping for yourself. Doug and Adrian brought over a scooter to lend to us, and you learned how to ride that in about a millisecond. The next week, Grandma Lam and I took you to Toys R Us to buy you a helmet. You very loudly refused to let me try it on your head in the store, but that afternoon when we were going to go down the block to a party at Kim and Andy's, I said, "Do you want to ride your scooter?" and you said, "Ride scooter! Put helmet on!" You barely waited for me to cut the tags off. Goodness knows what we would have done if it hadn't fit.
Your vocabulary is getting quite big, and you keep surprising us with things that you say and know. Today at the dinner table you counted all the way up to fourteen. This afternoon you said to Grandma Lam, "Flowers in Liz's yard," and she hadn't heard you use a possessive before that. You're starting to sort out your pronouns, too. You have started knowing the stories in the books that we read. The other day I stopped reading a Curious George book because I thought you weren't paying attention, but you looked at me and said, "Read rest of book." One of the funniest things that you've said recently had to do with the cat. You like to help scoop out the litter box in the basement. One morning I was filling up Laney's food dish, and you said, "Go down and scoop poop." I said, "There's no poop in the litter box right now." You said, "Go down and poop, Laney."
You've also gotten obsessed with puffer fish. I showed you one at the fish store one day, and now you make us draw puffer fish and puff up our cheeks and every time you see a picture of a large-ish fish it's automatically a puffer fish. I was in Chicago for a conference last week, and one of the museums that I got to visit was the Shedd Aquarium. I managed to get a couple of photos of a huge puffer fish at the aquarium. But your actual souvenir was a stuffed triceratops from the Field Museum. I had meant to see more of the Field, but the dinosaurs were so amazing that I totally lost of track of time and was in that gallery for at least an hour. I also got to see the U boat at the Museum of Science and Industry, and I got you one of the old-fashioned molded wax statues of it that you can do in the machine for two dollars. It's going to be a lot of fun when you're a little bit older and we can take some trips to Chicago to see those museums.
But now you're off on another trip with Grandma and Grandpa Lam. First to Madison, then to Menominee, and then way up north in the UP on the family camping trip. You've never been camping before, of course, and I'm hoping that all will go well and that you won't be miserable with bug bites or not able to sleep the whole time. I'm sure you'll be fine and have lots of fun, but I won't be able to call you on the cell phone, so that will be hard for me. Dad and I will meet you at the Cottage the next weekend so we can all go to my cousin Jenny's wedding. I'll be happy to see you! Hopefully, in the meantime, the weather in Minneapolis will be nice and we can finish painting the wall in the living room and the railing on the mud room roof. Having those chores done would feel good. The good part about missing you is that I try to fill up my time doing something useful. Of course, the longer you're gone, the more of your college education goes to Dad and I eating dinner out at restaurants, so you might want to keep that in mind.
Love,
Mom
We started redecorating a wall in the living room:
Mr "Where's my helmet?"
Party at Kim and Andy's house:
You creating a Zen car garden in your sand box:
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