He stuck his fingers to the back of his throat and gagged today as we wheeling around the market. Instead of being horrified by the experience (as I was) he thought it was funny. So he did it again and again, leaving little piles of puke on his stroller tray and giggling with delight at his new trick. Luckily daddy was there to clean him up, because I was ready to drop him off at the nearest orphanage...
Of course my reaction to his gag routine only added fuel to the fire. All afternoon he kept on shoving his fingers into his mouth, knowing he'd get a rise out of me.
The things they don't tell you about in those prenatal classes....
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Yesterday we accidentally left the sliding glass door open without pulling the screen across. Three flies soon decided to make themselves at home in our living room. Normally we try to free any bugs we find in the house (except for spiders, which we let live peacefully in our plants to take care of other less desirable bugs). But these flies just wouldn't leave on their own accord. They kept buzzing around our faces driving us absolutely nuts. So I rolled up a magazine and went on a fly hunt. The little buggers were just too quick for me, so I handed the magazine over to hubby.
Baby boy watched in wide-eyed amazement as hubby nailed them one by one. What kind of new sport was this? he must have wondered. When the third fly fell to the floor, he yelled "Fly!" pointing over to its tiny, lifeless form on the floor. "Fall! Die?!" There was a mix of shock, fear and excitement in his voice. We were stunned. Where did he learn the word die? Did it slip out while we cursing about their incessant buzzing? Talk about feeling like cold blooded murderers! And to make it even worse he now keeps mimicking us by swatting his hand against the wall, shouting "Fly! Done!"
On another bug-related note....a really creepy bug got in the house a couple of weeks ago. Baby boy was the one to discover it. He screamed, and started to cry. I can't say I blame him -- it really was a rather horrible sort of bug. For the next minute or so, hubby and I argued over who was going to take care of the "bug situation." The argument elevated the little guy's fear even higher. He must have figured that if mommy and daddy were scared, then he should be REALLY scared.
To show him that it actually wasn't a big deal, I went over to catch the bug with a kleenex. But I couldn't find it -- it was as though it vanished into thin air! Baby boy built up just enough confidence to walk over to my side to help investigate. Just as I was telling him that everything was fine, that the bug was harmless, no need to be scared -- out it crawled from its hiding spot. The little guy took off screaming and crawled to safety on the couch. For several minutes, he flat out refused to touch the floor even though he knew the bug was gone.
He's as bad as me with snakes!
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"M" baby doesn't call me mom. Up until a few weeks ago he called me "baby." After I repeatedly told him that I wasn't a baby, he decided to give me a new name. I'm now "Wee-bee". If you ask him where mom is he'll say "Wee-bee?" When he greets me at the door he smiles and yells "Wee-bee!" I think it has a nice ring to it.
Some of his other made up words are:
"Ott" for milk
He calls the television "shadow"
If he wants a snack he yells "ice!"
and, of course, "tee-tee" is the word he uses when referring to his special blankets.
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I'll never forget how hubby's old cat used to limp around the house for attention. She was such a faker -- often switching legs. Baby boy has also learned how to feign injury. The other day he hollered "ouch! knee!" even though his knee wasn't even remotely involved in his fall. No matter how minor the crash, he announces it loudly in hopes of getting hugs, kisses and sympathy. "Fall!" he says. "Ouch!" Of course I'm always happy to help, even if I know he's exaggerating :)
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One of the most useful words a kid can learn is "help." Now that the little guy has added it to his vocabulary he calls on us for all sorts of jobs. Like peeling bananas, doing his "heavy toy" lifting etc... In his cute little voice he says "Help?"
This, of course, works both ways. I often ask him to help me clean up toys, or to throw things in the garbage for me. When he helps me I always heap on the praise. Afterwards he always goes around bragging about what a good boy he is. "I help clean," he says. Or "Good boy!"
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