Books

Yes, Iain is wearing possibly the MOST ADORABLE black corduroy overalls ever made. Ever. But that's not the point.

The point is: he's getting addicted to the books. Tonight he made poor Charles read about 10 books, some several times. This, after he made me read Goggles (or, as he calls it: "Doggie!") and after he spend the day "reading." I didn't make up those scare-quotes, Miss Meghan did. That's what the daycare report card said, "reading."

After bathtime, what did he want? More reading! And when put into his crib, what did he need to have? A book.

Yeah. Meanwhile, he's picking up words like no tomorrow. This week it's been: bus, airplane, song, knee, elbow, yellow, and probably more that I can't remember. Supposedly, he should have 50 words at age 2. He's 18 months, and I'm pretty sure he's got his 50 already.

By 2, I expect to hear him saying things like "Mother, I am convinced that the epistemological system espoused by Maddie B. falsely connects super-structure to base. Surely we have to consider the transgressive nature of the self in order - fully - to understand her fundamental questions?"

OhhhhKayyyy...

For about 2 weeks, Iain has been rejecting most food and throwing temper tantrums. He's a little stereotype: laying on his back beating his heels against the floor, howling with rage.

Our reply to that is mostly: "whatever." We're certainly not going to reinforce it by being all "ooh, pookiesmookie what'sthematter darling??"

Anyway, tonight Iain rejected everything Charles offered him at dinner (delicious ravioli doused in butter and parmesan, banana, etc.), then threw a 20 minute screaming fit. He had a nice time-out for that. When I got home at 6:15, I brought Mister Kabob (I've been out of town, hence no food in the house, hence takeout for Mom and Dad).

Since Iain was up, we figured he could sit with us while we ate. And he did. Then he demanded some vittles. I gave him a little rice and chicken and a spoonful of cucumber-tomato salad. No dice on the salad and don't even begin to think he ate any chicken. BUT, he started eating the spicy rice (they make a saffron rice and also a cinnamon-spiced rice) and didn't stop.

Then he pulled out some of the (raw) onions that come on the side and started chewing on those. So to recap: he decided that eating spicy middle-eastern flavored rice and raw onions for dinner would be awesome.

Weird, dude. Just...weird. Also, thank god for the dogs. I did not want to pick up 700 grains of rice off the carpet.

Manners

Here's a sample of Iain's good manners.

1. Take a wet paper towel and wipe his hands and face after breakfast. He screams like you're cutting off his nose. Screams!

2. When you're done, he's all "Teddou."

You're welcome, son. It's nice that you thank me after acting like I'm an ax murderer.

Betty Boop and Grampy

Love it. Love, love, love Grampy. So silly.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jog

Iain slumbers blissfully in his crib, in his own personal room in his own personal house. He's tired, of course, from saying "BYE!!" at the top of his lungs to approximately 400 people and fifty-seven airplanes, trucks, and other airport vehicles.

We had a great time, complete with a little soiree yesterday. My parents invited many of their friends to come by and greet The Pasha. The idea was that rather than try to take his cranky butt all over town, people could drop in, get a taste of the greatness, and then go their merry way. Also, they could have some cheese and crackers.

It was a success. Iain took a power nap just before the thing really got moving, so he presided with grace and smiles rather than wobbly chins and protestations of "NO!" But by 5 o'clock he was back to his favorite social interaction: "Bye!" "Bye!" "Bye!"

I can also report that he has learned a new cartoon character. This time, it's Betty Boop, to whom my mother introduced me when I was a girl, and to whom I think she was also introduced as a girl. So now Iain is the third generation to discover that in the 30's people loved a woman with no neck and practically no skirt who liked to sing and had a curious social life involving Grampy and sometimes other folks.

You can get a taste of the Betty Boop approach to the Hatfield/McCoy feud in her 1939 cartoon, "Musical Mountaineers." It's not complimentary, FYI.

Betty Boop:Musical Mountaineers (1939) by OldTimeMedia -- Revver Online Video Sharing Network - Watch more Videos at Vodpod.

Happy (Belated) Halloween

Folly Beach

So...here's how daylight savings time works. Iain wakes up at 5:45. Except it's really 4:45. I take him in the kitchen, see that my mother is awake, drop him on her and sprint back to bed. Whee!!

Later, when it's 7:45 (6:45), we drove out to Folly Beach, which would normally be ucky on a holiday weekend, but since it's the crack of dawn, all the people who partied last night are busy sleeping it off.


This was Iain's first trip to any beach, and his first experience of lots of sand. He was undecided. The dry sand was ok, the wet sand was NOT, the surf was NOT, but the sea gulls were nice. "FlyFly" he said to them, and then "bye."

He walked all the way back from the surfline to the street by himself, learning to deal with the sand, which is fine but quite smooshy. So every step your ankles have to help you re-balance. That's good training, I figure, for a boy learning to walk with confidence.

Closeup: toes in sand. Delicious.