Growing, talking, climbing

Imagine that, I'm the mother of a toddler and I haven't been blogging lately!

Mowgli occasionally makes a soft popping sound of displaced air and then doesn't fit into the legs of his trousers the same way. If I'm measuring right, he's back up to the 90th percentile after a bit of a lag. This despite the fact that he's still largely a fruitarian--we have reached the compromise position that pizza and noodles are also acceptable, and he'll go for yogurt or eggs now and again as well.

Or, as he would like to add at this point, "donut!" It's his best word. I try not to give in to this request too terribly often, but it's hard to deny a young beanpole the odd bit of junk food.

He has the habit of repeating a new word with a question mark, then solidly with an acceptance: "Ambulance," I say, and he echoes, "Am=lan? Ooooh, am-lan!" as though he should have known it all along but just couldn't recall. It's cute. It was particularly cute when we said we had to buy his new Percy toy, not just run out of the store with it, and he said, "Oh, buy!" and ran to the counter. Since there were already people at the counter (they were already grinning at this, too), we said, "No, we have to wait our turn." "Oh, tun!" he said, and grabbed his new toy off the counter to scoot back to his parents. We laughed. Total strangers laughed. And we told him he was doing very well. For his age he's really pretty patient. Of course, that makes it all the more astonishing when he actually acts two and isn't patient at all.

He also loves to go to the local bounce palace, Leapin' Lizards. He'll bounce for three hours solid, right through nap time, given the choice. He also likes to balance on the log in our yard, run races, chase the dogs and cat, and play the up-down game, the last of which is developing great little child abdominal muscles. Mama should be slimmer from chasing after him.

We're managing. He's Thomas-obsessed and Cars-fond, he's addicted to his bedtime books ("More! Read!"), and he's pretty good about washing his hands. In other words, for a twenty-seven month old boy, he's perfectly normal perhaps with a drift toward the well-behaved side. I remind myself of this when he drops food on the floor and then screeches at whistle-style pitches and volumes when a dog eats the droppage.

Chasing the Baby

On The Move

The baby is teething, crawling, kneeling, sitting, and doing his darnedest in the standing and walking departments. He's eight and a half months old, mind you, and I keep telling him there's no hurry. He disagrees. What he's not doing much of is sleeping.

In the course of writing that last paragraph, I pulled him out of a corner, sent him after a push-and-go toy, and...

and recovered a stray kibble of dog food from his grabby little fingers. It's no wonder I'm not posting much! Anyway, in the near-ish future, look for announcements regarding an online buddy's book, a review of my camera, and other such news.

Meanwhile, though, I will announce my own book, or rather ebook. Half-Sick of Shadows is now out at Shadowfire Press. I feel odd calling an ebook publisher a "Press," as nothing is pressed except perhaps time.

Big and Tall Babies

I went shopping for a new sleeper for Mowgli yesterday. He's six months old now, and finally ready for those six-month-sized summertime sleepers everyone gave us in the belief they were getting things timed just perfectly.

Problem is, the nine-month size goes up to 27.5 or 28 inches in most brands. He measured as 28 inches two weeks ago at his well-baby checkup, and probably has added a half-inch by now. He's not fat, inclining more toward the bean-pole build of his father, but the distance from the shoulder of the sleeper to the foot is the part that matters, and lesser circumference about the waist doesn't help much.

The real problem, however, is that we've reached another point where the design changes to accomodate developmental stages. A twelve-month-old baby is presumed to be sleeping under a sheet, so his pajamas don't have feet and come in two-piece sets. A six-month old baby in those will wiggle backward and end up with the pant legs up around his thighs, the top bunched under his armpits, and drafts on places he's used to keeping warm.

We had exactly the same problem with newborn clothing, which Mowgli outgrew in his first few weeks. Newborn sleepers come with cuffs that could be turned over into little mitts. A newborn's circulatory system can leave him with shockingly cold hands without those little mitts, we discovered because we couldn't find any bigger sleepers that had them. Poor baby was also upset because he liked sucking on his mitts for comfort, and sleeve cuffs were apparently a poor substitute.

I may have to break out the sewing machine and learn to sew summer-fabric sleeper sacks. In this world of supersize everything, where are the supersized baby clothes?