Iain's Newest Developmental Milestone/Friend

The above is a cheap, plastic ring that someone at daycare put on birthday cupcakes for a kid I don't know. Iain brought it home 2 weeks ago. Since then, it has become his best friend forever. He tries to feed it (this morning he offered it waffle and then said, "Good job, Elmo!"), he carries it around, he says it wants things ("Elmo waffle brekkie!").

I checked a development chart today. For the last 6 months or so, I ignored all that stuff. I just didn't care that much, and since he was walking late. It's tiresome to watch and wait and hope that people are right when they say, "oh, a couple of weeks!" and "it's not a big deal until you get to 16 months!" Of course, when you get to 16 months, you start to feel it's a big deal.

But that's old news. These days, he walks, he toddly-runs, he's doing fine. So today I checked some not-scientific-composed-to-sell-moms-stuff websites and compared his development to the "norm."

Naturally, it was frustrating. He does some things they associated with 24 months, but not some things they say kids should all do at 19 months. Some things they linked to 23 months he's been doing since he was a year old. Gah!

But the point is, they said that this was an age when kids start talking to, feeding, and otherwise pampering their toys. As in, "tuck in baby" and "does teddie want some oatmeal?" Iain's attempts to feed Elmo, then, are totally age-appropriate and developmentally timely.

I can see why they get along, too. I mean: Elmo likes waffles, Iain likes waffles. Elmo drinks milk, Iain drinks milk. It's a match made in heaven.

Beaker

Paranoia

At 6:30, screaming. Wailing. Caterwauling. Demands and imprecations. Yet I held firm.

Now, it's 8:49, and all is silent. Hmmm... I started to get kind of weirded-out, worrying that something bad had happened. So I tiptoed in to Iain's room to have a look.

There he was, stretched out flat on his back, snoring like a bear. I guess he's ok.

ROARRRR!

This is the new face Iain makes when I take his picture. You last saw it here. I guess we've entered the "I am a LION!" stage.

In other news, everyone is sick. Charles still coughs, and has 4 days left on his antibiotics (the 200th prescription of the year so far, in case you're counting). Iain has a fever and isn't eating much. He might have to go to the doctor. I have a runny nose (aren't I attractive?), a sore throat, and a slight cough, plus I'm fatigued. I'm the healthiest among us, which is kind of tragic.

Did I mention the winter storm warning? Nothing like what Miriam's getting over in DC, but enough to make it dangerous to drive (to the doctor, for example) and impossible to entertain a cranky young'un.

At least I got to lecture about witches today. That's always a highlight of my semester.

How To Go To Bed, By Iain

First, you should know that this is not easy. It's going to require Total Commitment from you and your team. They all have to be on board (see above).

Step 1: Take a bath. Splash a lot. Try to get water on The Staff's glasses, but if you can't achieve that it's always fun to repeatedly drink the bathwater, just to annoy them.

Step 2: Car jammies. You really, really need to understand the centrality of this point. Jammies with cars on them contribute to deep, restful sleep. Studies show it. Studies from Harvard, and stuff.

Step 3: Sesame Street. Watch it. Bring your friends, monopolize the pillows. You'll need about 15 minutes of vintage S.S. (do NOT, repeat: do NOT watch modern Sesame Street - not the same thing at all, and no clinical value) to release your melatonin stores. Once that sleep hormone's coursing through your veins, you're all good.

I provide this information because I want to help people. So many tall people say they're "tired" and "exhausted" and "rocked." I don't know what they're doing at bedtime (because: hello! I'm already asleep), but it isn't working. Try my system - it works.

It Happened! It Happened!!

Despite Iain's best efforts to stop it (he ran a fever after nap time, in a clear attempt to make us stay home), we did, actually, in fact, no lie, go out and have an adult evening.

Why are you shaking your head? Don't believe me? Try this on for size:

1. We hooked up with Callie's Staff at 4:30, and carpooled down to Richmond.
2. We drank actual adult beverages. Mine had 2 olives in it. We ate delicious little nibbles (stuffed mushrooms, little artichoke eggrolls, tiny roast beef sandwiches with horseradish sauce, boiled shrimp, cheesecake bites, etc.)
3. We talked with grownups. At length. Loudly.
4. We did not change any diapers, get out any wet wipes, tell anyone to get off the stairs, or fetch sippy cups.
5. After the soiree, we went to a restaurant where we sat at a table with no highchairs.
6. We ate supper and talked and no one said "No, don't touch that! That's not for babies! Can we get some extra napkins?"

It was grand. Meanwhile, Iain and Callie

1. Ate ravioli, fruit and ice cream sandwiches with Miss Donna.
2. Played hide-and-go-seek.
3. Waited until Donna was helping the other one go to sleep, then said "Donna?" "Donna?" "Donna?" over and over again.
4. Slept, no problem, until we got there.

In other words: a smashing success.

It's Finally Happening

We're leaving Iain with a babysitter.

Tomorrow night my colleagues will gather to celebrate the recent wedding of our Tudor-Stuart-Elizabethan-Costuming-Gender specialist. She married an Ancient-World-Early-Christianity specialist, so you can imagine the breakfast table conversation in that house.

Anyway. We're headed down the road a bit to dance and sing and make whoopee with her, and Iain's staying here. With Callie. And Miss Donna.

It's all just so exciting. Of course, true to our special superhero talents, they're calling for 4 inches of snow overnight/tomorrow. So it's conceivable that we'll all be snowed in, eating rats and burning our sofas to stay warm until spring. But I have a sense that even in that event Callie's Mom is going to make us drive down for the party.