24 hours later I’m posting again and find myself apologizing- again- for my son’s complexion. We took these pictures after a trip to the park * which he was probably a little underdressed for. He’s one of those people who gets cold and turns purple at the drop of a hat, and I am one of those people who thinks jackets are for wussies. Toughen up, boy. Kind of sad when his hands are all bright red on the swing, though.
He does really enjoy our little park outings, now. It’s so nice now that he’s getting old enough to enjoy the places we go- parks, playcenters, museums, et al- I feel less like he is just getting dragged around and more like he is having fun too. He especially likes if there is a ball or ball like object, and if it’s red will just horde it the whole time we are out. At Gymboree all the other kids climb up and down the ramp and play bouncing games with their mothers, but Simon just locates the big bucket of balls, and sits in front of it with his red one, fending off all “invaders.” Until the bubbles come out, and you can see his little head nearly explode from trying to figure out how to fit every single bubble into his mouth while keeping guard on his balls. It’s a hard life, baby.
Aside from the Gymboree bubbles, he is actually not that oral. If he finds something small on the floor he will stop to inspect it, and then usually bring it over to me and say “mamaMA.” I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with it, but this is a godsend because with a 2 year old around there are lots of small objects on the floor.
He’s got a few other words besides “mama,” but it’s so hard to count at this age since they pretty much all sound the same. I’m pretty sure he says:
Ah duh- all done/get me out of here
Bop- pick me up
And possibly dog, but then again, maybe not.
I think I am forgetting some, but they are probably ones I am only half sure of anyway.
He says many fewer words and is much more physically advanced(oh the climbing! He can climb on anything) than Claire Helen was at this age, but the neat thing is how they still seem developmentally the same, when I think about her then. There is something about not quite one year olds that hold more similarity than difference, but the only things that are easy to quantify are the differences.
He’s such a funny guy, so good natured. I never see him getting upset about things the way the other babies do. He protects his stuff, for sure, but to be honest that is a relief after watching Claire Helen get bullied for two and a half years. He is basically delighted by any new thing put in front of him, and has a charming persistence and optimism that he can accomplish anything he feels like, even and almost especially if it is something he has not once managed to do despite daily attempts, like catch Sadie’s tail when she’s running away from him.
He is, however going through some medium bad separation anxiety. In theory this is so flattering- Mama! All the time! No one else! Will do! But in practice it S-U-C-K-S sucks. Last weekend Claire Helen’s preschool had a parents’ night out, so we conned a friend into watching Simon while we went out to dinner. Apparently he cried on her shoulder for 40 minutes (after 10 minutes of having no idea we were gone) before just passing out from the sheer tragedy of it all. He knows my friend well, and sees her at least once a week for 2 hours at playgroup, but apparently that’s not enough for Mister Oedipal Man. We hope it passes soon.
If I had more time I would tell you all about how Claire Helen locked me out of the house on purpose the other day, and then tapped on the window brandishing a new bag of cookies, “Mommy will you open this for me? I want some cookies.” Yeah, I bet you do.
*There was SUN! In
**two more weeks, buddy boy! I swear I am going to throw a party when we are done with this.