Among Jonathan's preferences is a very clear delineation of the boundaries of the stuffed animal posse that accompanies him to bed each night. It started with Monkey. One Monkey, which became two... to prevent dirty-monkey-needs-a-bath syndrome. Eventually "Mimi" and "Max" became a pair. Shortly thereafter "Ty" the tiger and "Baby" the yellow elephant joined the crowd. From there things got out of hand. Days later the first of three "Puppy Doggies" was added. Now I put him in bed and he starts to call them out like Santa enumerating the reindeer: "Monkey? Max? Tiger? Baby? Puppy Doggie? (pointing to Number 1 - green, believe it or not) Teddy Bear? Puppy Doggie? (Number 2 -- standard brown & white mutt) Puppy Doggie? (Number 3 -- this one has some medical issue and wears one of those veterinary victorian collars -- no joke, it was a gift) Blankie? " I load them in as they're called out until he has the 9 necessary transitional objects that fill his crib, leaving just enough room for a 1 year old. In the morning, he stands up in his crib and hands them over by the handful for me to unload before he'll be lifted out himself. Always makes me think he's running a fire drill... ensuring everyone's safe evacuation before exiting the building himself.
But it's not just about which animals are in bed at night. There are certain ones whose rank in my toddler's room range from unnecessary to unwanted. The other night I load him up, accompanied by the posse, and he looks around the crib to find a reindeer, a frog, and a giraffe among the collection in his crib. "No no no, no no no!" The rejects are launched adamantly overboard before he cuddles up with an arm around one of the monkies. He keeps better track of who's In and who's Out than a high school cheerleader.
Among his recent phrases are, "Don't like it." So useful, apparently. It's applicable to (most) vegetables, and apparently quite a variety of his clothes. He refused the new shorts I bought him yesterday with adamant protests of, "Don't like it! Don't like it!" until I put him into his jeans, which are quickly becoming capris.
I came home today to find him in a royal blue shirt with a bright red fire truck, forest green and khaki shorts, and neon blue and green tennis shoes. His nanny usually dresses him quite nicely when he needs a change, and I must have remarked to David 3 times after coming home what an awful and odd outfit she'd put him in -- it was so uncharacteristic. Before taking our evening walk I swooped Jonathan up to make a few changes only to discover that he "don't like it" just about any other garmet in his closet today. It then became clear... Joy hadn't gone nuts, she'd just let him pick his own clothes. Are we really already there? He's ONE. Twenty months. And he's a boy. I had NO idea I'd be battling my son already over what he's wearing. At twelve, maybe, but one?!?!? But I figured for Sunday church it's one thing... for an evening walk, another. So I let him wear what he wanted, and we left the house with the fire truck shirt, the green shorts, and the neon shoes, and hoped not to encounter anyone we might know.
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Despite the challenges of his growing opinions, it's an absolute delight to glimpse more and more of what's on his mind and Jonathan talks more every day. Nothing super insightful in these, but here are a few of his recent declarations that come to mind at the moment:
While chasing Pepper around the backyard, "I chase you, Pepsi! I chase you!"
While sword-fighting with his Daddy, wielding a light saber salvaged from some previous era in David's life, "I've got the power! I've got the power!" Maybe I should be concerned, but it makes me laugh, so I just chalk it up to being a boy.
When playing with little gadgets that open and close, "Good job! I did it! I did it! Good job!... Mommy open?" (He can close the clasps... apparently quite the accomplishment to be celebrated, but needs them opened to again undertake the challenge)
First time to finger paint, he wasn't such a fan: "Messy, Jonathan messy. Mommy clean."
While playing basketball with his Daddy: "Daddy miss it!"
Jonathan still LOVES garbage day. The garbage truck's weekly arrival would by far eclipse any other neighborhood event, like if a space shuttle were to land in our front yard. The astronauts would be quickly dismissed in admiration of the garbage man. I should be honored to be assigned the highest calling of trash duty -- I must hear at least 50 times each trash day, "Mommy help. Mommy pick up trash can," as he leads me to the neighbor's cans awaiting emptying.
"Shared" [scared] is another recent acquisition. It's so funny to see the things he tells me he's "shared" of. While my little boy acts so tough running around finding bugs for smashing, he declares he's "shared" as we look at pictures of bears, ants, and bees, and when we hear most loud noises.
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Playing in the backyard, and staying hydrated.
Jonathan found his Daddy's hiking boots and actually managed to get into them upright... for a minute.
As we prepare for our upcoming cruise vacation, I've been a little nervous about toddler safety. David decided to test the little backpack harness we have for Jonathan to ensure it can hold 30 lbs, in the event it's required to bear the entire weight of our little man. We had to laugh at our neurotic parental worries and photo document the quality standards the harness passed.
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