Saturday, September 27, 2014

28 Months

1)  The preschool had an open house to get the kids used to their classroom.  We went, and while his compatriots were all crying and clinging to their mommies, Fuzzy confidently marched into his classroom, found a box of toys, picked out a digger, and began playing with it.  When I pointed out his cubby, he said "Oh, dis my box?"  Then he collected all the dinosaurs from around the room and deposited them inside.  I took him to the bathroom, and he surveyed the Sesame Street toilet seat.  "Dis nice potty," he pronounced.

On the actual first day of school, he was pretty excited as I got him dressed, put on his backpack, and handed him his lunchbox.  As I got him all positioned for a picture on the front steps, he was hopping from foot to foot with impatience.  I begged him to smile, and was rewarded with the following: "'No Mama, no pikur, we have to go to pwee-school!  My little digga is waitin fo' me!  WAIT DIGGA, WAIT!  I COMIN!!"

As I dropped him off, I expected a few tears, maybe some confusion - after all, we have never before left him with anyone other than family or his familiar nanny.  However, he was so excited to be reunited with his digger that he completely ignored me when we got inside the class.  I literally had to get down on my hands and knees, wave my hand into his face, and tell him I was leaving.  "I'll be back to pick you up after lunch!"  He glanced at me briefly with absolute disinterest - "Okay."

2)  Fuzzy continues to say amusing things at home.

Exhibit A:
"Mama, I couldn't get my shoes on by myself...I twied and I twied and I twied! I had a wittle twouble."

Exhibit B:
Me: "Do you want to read a story?"
Him: "No, not wight now."
Me: "Okay, when?"
Him: "On the weekend!"

Exhibit C:
We're rocking in his room prior to bedtime, and a thunderstorm starts.  Crash!  "What dat?"  I explain that it was thunder.  Fuzzy is not convinced.  "No, it dinosaur."  I decide to play along - "The dinosaur was stomping?"  "Yah, it stompin up stompin up Fizzy's stompin up Fizzy's woof!"  "Oh really?"  "Yah, I tink it T-Wex!"

Exhibit D:
As I'm carrying Fuzzy to bed, I kick over a glass of water The Pit has placed next to his chair in the living room.  Fuzzy is instantly hyper-alert, "What happened??"  Then he explains the situation to himself and me:  "Mama kicked glass, and all DAT water went on floor.  It's okay, Daddy will clean it. It okay Mama, she didn't mean it.  Have to walk slower Mama, yous walkin too fast!"

Exhibit E:
He's sitting in his high chair, and is clearly done with his blueberries.  He takes them one by one, squishes them with the bottom of his bowl, and then throws them to the ground.  "Don't throw those berries!" I yell as I step on one.  "I have to Mama, it fun!" replies the child.

Exhibit F:
We're walking onto the playground, where Fuzz ran his head straight into a metal pole the previous day (because he was running forward while looking over his shoulder at one of his friends).  "I won't do dat again." he says.  "Do what?" I ask, wondering if he's remembering the pole incident.  "Wun into pole...I be mo' careful!"

3)  While Fuzzy hasn't quite mastered putting on his own clothes yet, he's getting better and better at taking them off.  I was in the shower the other day when he ran into the bathroom.  Before I knew it, he had stripped naked and decided to join me.

4)  Fuzzy was being rough with Sprout one day while I was watching both of them and trying to get dressed for work in the morning.  After several warnings to be nice, I pulled him off the baby and sort of flung him onto the other side of the bed.  He immediately burst into tears, and in between loud sobs wailed, "Don't do dat Mama, dat not vewy nice!"

5)  In his bath, he's invented a new game to avoid having to brush his teeth.  As I get out the toothbrush, Fuzz now turns to the faucet and pretends to turn a steering wheel.  "I drivin' to ice ceam store.  Wait here, I be wight back!"  Then he waves his finger at me admonishingly as I ineffectually wave the toothbrush.  "Wait Mama, I bwing you ice ceam!  You wait at my hooome."

6)  As I was singing him his bedtime song in the rocking chair, Fuzzy kept sticking his finger in my mouth.  I told him to stop it, and when he wouldn't, I put him to bed rather firmly.  He started crying.  Then, after about 30 seconds, he perked up.   "Can I poke you arm?"  He asked.  "I suppose so," I said dubiously.  Then I felt his little figure poking at my elbow, followed by a disappointed, "But there no hole in you arm!"

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