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.

Watching the Kid Grow

Mowgli has experienced Star-Crossed First Love now. In the Wal-Mart yesterday, checking out balls and things with wheels, he found a Lightning McQueen and a Mater, just shy of shoe-box sized and rated for rather older children, and fell in love.

However, I'd been more in the frame of mind to spend maybe three bucks on a ball or a wheeled turtle, and furthermore it was time to go home for lunch and dog care. I insisted that he could have one minute, counted it down, and put away the Cars cars.

He was heartbroken, of course, and also hungry enough to really pitch a fit. Ah, first love, always the toughest. I told him I completely understood how he felt, but that it wasn't going to change anything. He pitched more fit. I did buy him a squeeze-pack of applesauce, which improved things somewhat. I did wash an apricot for him (he'd already given it a nip in the produce area) once it was paid for, and that too went a long way toward cheering him up.

I'm not sure how long a child's memory lasts at this age, but suspect we will find out very soon. I missed a couple of necessities at the store, and we'll have to go back.

Trips to the toy store

Classically, when parents go to a toy store, it's their job to say "No" a lot. We're far from classical, apparently.

Mowgli now has a toy drum because his father thought he needed it. He agrees with his father, as it happens, but it wasn't his idea. Neither were the wooden puzzles, though he loves them, or the new vocabulary-building board books which give him so many opportunities to announce "Wheel!" and "Door!" He did pick out the little football, though.

The funny part is, we were looking for an airplane. Nothing fancy, just the kind of airplane a small boy can run around the house with, holding it overhead and going "Vwoooosh!" It appears that these toys are simply not available. He seems to be perfectly happy to let his foam letter T perform the office. No doubt this is good for his imagination. We live near an airport, which has turned out to be an unexpected boon to raising a happy child. He loves that we can say, "Hey, let's go look for airplanes!" and generally get one within a few minutes. He loves chasing them across the yard.

Exploring the World

Brightly colored toys are all the rage now. We've started on pop beads as a good outlet for Mowgli's desire to pull things apart and feel mighty. This desire has been very hard on his books! Also, ours. We're reading to him a little less now, but I'm trying to make up for it with lots of real-life experiences like textured quilts to crawl on and mango baby food to sample.

Mango was okay. It was worth two wrinkled-forehead moments, but vanished all the same. However, Mowgli prefers his father's Elder Scrolls official game guide. Nummers!

Happy birthday, Grandpa!