Spelling Bee Gone Horribly Wrong

Jacob may not be saying a whole lot of words, but he certainly understands a lot of them. John and I are at the point where we have to spell anything that involves food, eating, or a trip to the park, unless Jacob is going to be involved with any of those things immediately. The little man knows the names of all three meals, most of his food, and “hungry” and “thirsty.” Can you say “one-track mind”?

 

This made for an interesting conversation over the weekend. We’d been out to a Christmas party on Saturday, and on Sunday there was still some f-o-o-d left in the stroller for Jacob’s afternoon s-n-a-c-k—crackers, to be specific.

 

As we prepared to go o-u-t, John wanted to be sure there was enough for our little food monster, but all the spelling can get kind of time-consuming. He shortened things and ended up asking me if there was “c-r-a-c-k” in the stroller. I confirmed, then doubled over in laughter so that I could hardly breathe.

 

Yes, dear, there’s crack in the stroller. Just the kind Jacob likes, too.

 

Batting Lefty

Friday night I cut my hand on a can of tomato sauce. It sounds silly, and I know the situation I created was kind of dumb, but in the heat of the pizza-topping moment, it was what it was.

 

John was a champ all weekend, doing literally everything and more to cook, clean, and take care of Jacob. This morning is the first time I’ve really had to do anything on my own with my hand, and I don’t want to push my luck (or lack thereof). So I leave you with three things to think about this morning.

 

1. Jacob learned to sign “please” this weekend. It’s supposed to be your hand flat against your chest, moving in a circular motion. Jacob modified it to have his hand move over his mouth instead. And not only that, he sticks out his tongue while he does it, thus licking his hand over and over. When I ask him to say please, I end up with a little boy with a slimy hand. I’m not sure teaching manners at this age is all it’s cracked up to be.

 

2. Fun fact: I can do more than I expected with my left hand. The one thing that’s proved impossible, though, is washing my left arm.

 

3. And the obligatory Jacob photos. Bananas!

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Real Cows Don’t Moo

Ask an adult what a cow says, and he will answer, “moo,” but he won’t really mean it. This is because adults have the life experience to know that the sound cows make isn’t “moo” per se; it’s more like “mmmmmmmmmhhhaaaa.”

Where am I going with this, right?

This weekend John taught Jacob what a cow says. This is a big deal because Jacob rarely repeats words we offer him, unless it’s something that sounds like “dog” or “three.” The thing that worries me is that John didn’t teach Jacob to say, “moo.” He taught him to say, “mmmmmmmmmhhhaaaa.” Except when Jacob says it, it’s more like, “ mmmmm.” As in, “Mmmmmm, that burger looks delicious.”

So now I am simply waiting for the day that Jacob goes to pre-school or kindergarten, or wherever it is that animal sounds are formally reviewed with children, and his teachers ask him what a cow says. They won’t believe he’s from Brooklyn.  They will believe how carnivorous he is, though. Can you get good marks for that? I imagine his report that day will look something like this:

“Smiled and laughed a lot. Gave affectionate head butts. Seemed very hungry when he saw a drawing of a cow. . . . Does this child eat vegetables?”

In the meantime, there isn’t really any doubt around here that the kid eats enough. Operation: Fatten That Child has been a raging success, and I’m beginning to suspect that the advice at his next well visit is going to be to cut back. Check out that belly.

 

 

A muffin and half an avocado a day keep the doctor away!