Games

Matthew can hold a several-shot rally with the computer in Virtua Tennis, but he doesn't know how to direct his shots to make it hard for the CPU to reach them, so he always loses eventually. This makes him mad. Fortunately, the worst word he knows is "stupid," which he pronounces without the D.

On the other hand, he's surprisingly good at Sly Cooper 3 which I would have thought would be more challenging. I guess the extra buttons involved aren't as tough for an almost-four-year-old as the more subtle interaction of the buttons and analog stick for VT, after all. Sly 3 ("new fox game" -- yes, I know it's a racoon) is joining We Love Katamari ("ball game") and Burnout Revenge ("car game") in Matthew's favorites. He was really into Ratchet & Clank 3 for a while, too ("ratchet game") but I think his mom banned him from that for a while. (Really into it...) He racked up over $400k doing some of the earlier missions over and over -- I'd beaten the game, so Ratchet was really buff, and Matthew was able to breeze through the early missions, calibrated for a significantly less buff protaganist, with ease. Basically he just wants to blow stuff up and not worry much about dying.

I did let him try Ratchet & Clank 2, but that wasn't as much of a success. In 3, a lot of missions will auto-replenish your ammo when you start them. Those were the missions Matthew liked. In 2, you always have to remember to buy new ammo, and there isn't a "max out all" option to keep things simple. So Matthew was always running out of ammo and getting frustrated.

He's a little better at Guitar Hero ("youtarr [guitar] game") than a few months ago but it's still just a little too hard for him to really get into, past the first couple songs.

I also picked up a copy of Toy Commander for the dreamcast based on some guy's slashdot comment gushing about how great it was. For a game about toys, it's extremely complicated. Each toy controls differently, but the missions also have very narrowly defined objectives barely within a four year old's ability to remember, and far beyond his ability to achieve. Too bad. He wants to like this "plane game" -- one of the first toys you can use is a biplane -- it's just out of he league for now.

Most gameboy advance games are also just a little too hard for him. He can do most of Sonic Advance, with the exception of the bosses. By far the easiest game we have is a Donkey Kong Country (#2? #3? I forget) but he doesn't like that, for some reason. He does like Metal Slug because it has tanks, but it really is too hard for him. His favorite was Metroid Zero Mission -- Rachel had beaten it, so Samus was super buff for the early areas, like Ratchet -- but then he deleted the save with that data on it. We should have made a copy; he does that eventually to pretty much any game he gets to play, since he can't read the prompts when it asks, "Are you sure?" Given this handicap, he actually navigates menus amazingly well. Just keep him out of the Save menu.

Bedtime update

Melissa ended up howling for only about 40 minutes total on Thursday. But that was howling accompanied by climbing out of her crib and pounding on the bedroom door. So we chickened out of continuing with the Thou Shalt Go To Sleep By Thyself thing.

Melissa is learning words now! She can say eyes and mowff [mouth] (and point to them), she's trying to say shoes, and this morning when I took her in to Rachel she said desheeii [there she is].

But she recently decided that both parents were mama. I guess because that's the most important one? Dada's ego is bruised. She used to say dada; it's not like she doesn't know how.

Bedtime

Tonight I took Melissa to bed, bounced her on my knees, patted her back while she lay on my chest, put my arm around her with her next to me, and still she squirmed and fought sleep. For an hour.

I figured I'd turned in an honest effort, so I told her Good Night and wished her well. Fifteen minutes later she's still yelling angrily. I'll bet she lasts another hour easily.

We started on No Night-time Snacks on Sunday. I guess we might as well start Going To Sleep By Yourself while we're at it.

Singing and Chattering

Melissa sings now. The words are her own, but she can carry a tune. Her favorite is "Are you Sleeping?" She is immensely pleased when she begins singing and I join in with her. She'll also sing to "Baa Baa Black Sheep" and "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Both she and Matthew like to dance to music.

Matthew too loves to sing, but he started around 2 yrs, and not 15 months like Melissa. The other day Matthew went to "talk to the Mayor," and I heard singing coming from the bathroom. I've heard of singing in the shower, but not singing on the porcelain throne!

Melissa Vocab:

"Aw don!" All done!

"tank ew" Thank you

"amen" - spoken very quickly and the letters slurred together. She says this whenever she feels a prayer should end whether or not the prayer is truly finished.

"at!" cat! - with high pitched squeal!

"entle" gentle

"ut's dis?" what's this?

Melissa also says Mama and Dada of course. She doesn't say no yet, but she is quite clear in her intentions. When she refuses anything offered her, she shakes her head very emphatically.

-Rachel

Savage Uncle

Last night Matthew got out his action figure Batman and decided to play with it. When I say "play with it", I mean run at his Uncle David and jam Batman's pointy bat-ears into my chest. The first time this occured, the singularity of the event amused me. The second time it happened, I grabbed the figurine out of his clutches, pretended to bite Batman's head off, and then threw the figure a few feet away.
Mathew, who had been laughing the whole time I pretended to attack Batman, became mortified and ran off whaling when I tossed his toy.
I went back to writing my email and ignored the upset Savage Peanut. Family home evening soon started up and I brought my dinner into the family room. I sat down and commenced enjoying the savoury wedding leftovers. Matthew had his own plans for my dinner and and ran at my head superman style with Batman's pointy ears. I was not amused. He nearly made me spill my food on the rug.
I took Batman and sat on him. Mathhew in a panick quickly said he was sorry. I knew he was just working the system and told him that was not good enough. He ran off to Momma crying. Luckliy, Uncle Nolan gave a great family home evening lesson which heavily involved Matthew and his little helping hands.
At the end Matthew gave the closing prayer. He then gave everyone a kiss goodnight. I gave him his toy back then and told him I loved him.

Last night's events have not been entirely forgotten by Savage Peanut. This morning while I was sitting down in the kitchen, he came up to me, smiled, and then gave me a couple of light punches to the side. He was testing Savage Uncle. I knew it, and he could tell.

-Uncle David

Melissa update

A couple months ago, we tried to teach Melissa "baby sign language." She didn't show any interest after several weeks, so we pretty much lost interest too, with the exception that Rachel continued to demonstrate an opening-and-closing-fist motion for "milk."

Just recently, Melissa finally started using this sign. But she uses it for "I want." She'll come up when you're trying to fix lunch and start reaching for the things on the counter, opening-and-closing, adding "Ba, ba, ba" for emphasis.

Melissa's also reached the "I want to be like Dad" stage. Last night, Rachel tried to feed Melissa some of her excellent potato soup. Melissa would have none of it, shaking her head vigorously and pushing the spoon away. But when I sat down and started eating my soup, she came over and ate mine with relish.

She even drank her cough syrup without complaining after she saw me drink some... but that only worked once.

My daughter is a girl

Tonight after Rachel left to perform in her concert, Melissa toddled up to me holding her Hawaiian outfit, top and bottom. She handed them to me; I thanked her and set them to the side.

She handed them to me again, and started tugging at the shirt she had on. She couldn't get it over her head, but it was clear what she was trying to do.

So I helped her out of the old outfit (the one that she'd been wearing for about 20 minutes, after she got far too enthusiastic with some cherries in the previous one) and into the Hawaiian one. She toddled away again, content. (And then I grabbed her to change her diaper, because I detected a smell...)

Thank you!

Today Melissa said "Tank-ou" after I gave her some cheese. She's been a pleasant little Miss lately.

Matthew often has to "talk to the mayor" during meal times. He has yet to develop the coordination to do an adequate job of wiping up after himself, so usually the honor is bestowed on me. He recently relayed to me, "Mama, you best at wiping Matthew bottom." A title of dubious distinction if you ask me. Jonathan cracked up when he heard him and made comments along the lines of "high praise indeed," and "I guess only the best will do for Matthew." Personally, I think he is trying to shirk his share of t.p. duty.

Monday was Pioneer day, which means fireworks. Naturally they are loud and colorful, and as such, right up Matthew's alley. Our neighbors took turns setting them off until very late at night. Matthew was thrilled and informed us that he wanted to grow "big and tall" so that he too could set off fireworks. Pioneer day is more like Pioneer extended weekend though so the noise started Friday night and continued through Tuesday. Unfortunately Matthew has been staying up late and been exceptionally grumpy all week. I'm wondering if he's just got in the habit of staying up too late and not sleeping well, or if something else is going on. It's as though someone has spirited away my sweet cheerful boy and left a whiny, crying, unpleasant fellow in his place. He also complains of headaches in the afternoons and has not taken a nap all week despite his exhaustion. In fact he complains and loudly voices his disapproval of most everything. (And I mean everything- the way I fix my hair, any food offered, books, what I dress Melissa in, songs I sing, and on and on. Nothing is right.) I feel bad for him and want to help him feel better, but it's also trying on his parents!!! Maybe next week my pleasant boy will return. I pray.

-Rachel

Initiate Brother

I just read Initiate Brother by Sean Russell in about a day. I haven't been that into a book in a long time. Highly recommended, especially since you can find it used on Amazon for basically free plus shipping.

I'd never heard of Mr. Russell before; I bought it based on Orson Scott Card's recommendation. Now I can't wait for my copy of the sequel to arrive.

One Amazon reviewer compares Initiate Brother to Dune. I wouldn't quite rate Russell's work that high, but then, I think Dune might well be the best novel of the 20th century. The main point of commonality is very well-done political intrigue. I'm drawing a blank trying to think of another author who really pulled that off well, so maybe the comparison is more apt than I thought at first...

The only real cloud marring my silver lining here is that I suspect I'm likely to agree with the Amazon reviewers who think IB is Russell's best work. The set of authors who manage one high-quality piece of work is much larger than the set who pull it off consistently. (My favorite of the latter is Vernor Vinge, whose Rainbows End just came out a couple months ago.)

I'm going to give Beneath the Vaulted Hills a try next.

Cleaning skills

Matthew is almost done cleaning his room. It's taken him about half an hour. (Plus an hour and a half shrieking, but hey...)

He actually doesn't need much in the way of direction now. He still can't do it efficiently -- "pick up all the blocks" -- because his area of attention is about two feet square. But he's quite able to pick up the nearest object and put it somewhere off the floor.

It's quite nice, really, to sit and not have to direct him to each object that needs picking up.

Matthew is useful.

Soon After We Got Married....

Composed by Jonathan after a particularly harried day.

(Sung to the tune of the 12 days of Christmas)

Soon after we got married, my true love did conceive,
   One little Peanut and we were busy.

Three years after we were married, my true love did conceive,
   One big boy Peanut and a baby Honey Bee.

Five years after we were married, my true love said to me,
   ONE big boy Peanut, ONE Honey Bee are quite enough for ME!

-so no, another one is not in the near future plans, maybe after I start sleeping through the night again. Mmmm sleep. Or better yet after our Bee is potty-trained. Not sure I want to train again while pregnant. Uck. My Grandma trained all hers by 18 mos. Yeah no diapers! Sounds good to me. 'Course we'll have to see if Melissa will go along with this.

(I say all this tongue in cheek, fulling realizing that plans can go awry. Our next door neighboor is expecting her 4th anytime now and her last three (including this one) have all been 14 mos apart. Not quite how they had planned things.)

-Rachel

Escape artist

Rachel, just now: "I just took Melissa out of the tub, dried her off, and diapered her. She ran off and before I could catch her she dived back into the tub again, diaper and all!"

Halo

I got to the part where you fight the Flood; let's just say that now I agree with the M rating and the age when Matthew will be allowed to play went up about 5 years.

Space Rangers All

"Matthew is Buzz, Lissa little dirl Buzz, Dada is Buzz, Mama is Buzz."

Matthew loves being Buzz Lightyear. In his 3 year old generosity, he extends the same honor to the rest of his family.

I'm partly responsible for encouraging this. Yesterday I told him to build a Robot Buzz out of his blocks. He did, and he's extremely pleased with the result. Since then it's all been about one Buzz or another.

In non-Buzz news, Rachel's brothers got me playing Halo in Washington, and I was hooked. I borrowed my neighbor's copy yesterday and despite breaks to watch kids, entertain company, and so forth, got almost halfway through by the time I retired at Midnight. (Which is an indication of what an old fart I've become, incidently. I remember playing Starcraft until 4 AM, back in the day.)

I'd avoided Halo partly because I'm not a huge FPS fan in general, and partly because it was rated M. But the gore level turns out to be really minimal (no "gibs", very little blood). I guess it is pretty intense, but I'd let Matthew play it in a few years.

I noticed another oddity in a different rating system the other day. I picked up a copy of Mad Hot Ballroom (a movie about middle school students taking dance classes) and noticed it was rated PG. This movie was less disturbing than Bambi, for crying out loud. Why not rate it G?

Rachel postulated that maybe parents assume that G = suitable for children, so they rated MHB PG since young kids would be bored stiff. I suppose that's possible, but I think using the rating system to convey that sort of information is a bad idea.

It turns out that the PG in this case is officially for "some thematic elements." What, kids need to be protected from learning about competition? That not everyone finishes #1 all the time in real life?

Wimps.

The case of the midnight pee

I've probably mentioned already how our custom of late is to wake Matthew when we go to bed and have him go to the bathroom. This improves his chances of waking up dry from "almost never" to "almost always."

He's tremendously sleepy when we do this. Sometimes he can't even walk to the bathroom, and I'll carry him to and from the toilet.

A couple nights ago, at Rachel's parents' place, I took him to the bathroom as usual. I put him in the general vicinity of the toilet and instructed him, "Pull down your pants and pee."

He pulled down his pants and peed... nowhere near the toilet.

I yelped and picked him up, still spraying, and pointed his stream towards the proper receptacle. Then I had to clean up the cabinets and floor. There was far too much to clean up with toilet paper, and there were no paper towels in the house; I settled on the hand towel, which I left on the floor where, I hoped, nobody would use it until I could put it in the wash in the morning. (Everyone else was in bed and I didn't want to wake someone just to ask where to put a dirty towel.)

In the morning, the towel was back in its place on the wall. Somebody had picked it up and, presumably, used it. Eww.

(Rachel didn't want me to write about this, but I pointed out that I was, in fact, exercising enormous restraint by writing about this instead of a far grosser incident that also occurred at her parents' house. She had to agree when I put it that way.)

A good time was had by all

Matthew had a great 4th of July. All of Rachel's Washington relatives came over for a barbeque and fireworks. Matthew was shy at first, but he quickly made friends with Rachel's cousin Ryan and Andrea's finace, Scott. He roughoused with them outside, and when he was done with that, Ryan and I played "big boy ball." (He's too big for "baby ball" now, after all.) He enjoyed that enormously and kept urging us to "teep dohing!" [keep going]

Then it was time to set off the fireworks. All told we had around $300 worth (at last-minute discount prices, too). It was quite a show, and Matthew got to stay up until about 10:00 watching it. Amazingly, Rachel got Melissa to sleep while it was starting. These were not your wimpy legal firecrackers, either; these were "tribal." Meaning, of course, that you could get much bigger ones from firework stands on reservation land. The big ones made me wish I'd brought ear protection.

Melissa had a great time, too. Before she went to bed, she wandered from relative to relative, grinning her dimply baby grin, charming everyone. When she saw food she liked, she went "mmmmMMMMMmmmm!" and usually got some. Lots of cherries (cut in half first) and juice from her parents, and chips and cake from practically everyone.

Come Fly the Unfriendly Skies

Here is my email. More later.

Dear Sir or Madame,

Yesterday I arrived with my two small children (a baby and a 3 year old) at the airport and discovered that my flight had just been delayed for 2 1/2 hours. So far no problem, I could keep them amused for a few hours and then they could nap on the plane. An hour and a half later I found that the plane would leave at 5:15 (probably). Okay- I figured we're here at the airport with one of the car seats checked- we'd manage somehow.

At four o'clock the departure board listed the departure at 5:50, and I thought I'd check out at the desk to find out what was really going on. In addition, my children were very tired and I wanted to find a quiet place in the airport were they could rest. When I finally got to the front of the desk I found out the flight had been cancelled, but no one had bothered to inform the passengers or update the departure board. I was pretty displeased at this point and my babies very tired and cranky. My ticket was rescheduled for the next day with an arrival at noon.

I went down to baggage claim and requested my bags. Forty minutes later they still hadn't appeared. I went back to baggage claim and spoke with a different lady and found the claim hadn't even been processed. The first women I spoke with announced that she didn't even recognize me or remember my claim! Anyways 20 minutes later I finally got my baggage. My husband picked me up and we left.

When I got home I found out that my current arrival would cause me to miss the funeral. So I called delta. After waiting an hour I got through to someone from India who spoke poor English and had difficulty understanding me. He told me that no earlier flights were available but I could book one later. Not sure if the times would work for my family to pick me up in Seattle I asked if I could book and then call immediately back to change the times if they didn't work. Nope, that would be an additional $50 a ticket. Ahhhh! So I hung up and called my family to work out the time, waited another hour on hold. This time I got the ticket change, but when I received the email confirmation was charged $140.00! I'd already paid full price for the 3 tickets, was missing Pop pop's funeral, had two less days to spend with my family to mourn and comfort them. Both times when I talked with the reservation agents and explained the circumstances and my frustrations I never got more than, "I'm sorry Ma'am" I have never had so much difficulty flying before and I am angry at the poor treatment I and my children have received at the hands of Delta. If this is "customer service" is it any wonder that the company is facing finacial difficulty?

Delta cannot make up for the loss time at a funeral that I will miss today. At the very least I expect the $140.00 refunded.

Thank you for your prompt attention,

Rachel Ellis

Little monkey

Melissa is a climber. I've written about how she climbs the backs of chairs at church. I haven't mentioned others, like climbing a near-vertical picture frame, or the bookshelves, or others.

But sometimes she bites off more than she can chew. This morning she went off to play and all was well for a time, but then I heard hoots coming from the guest room. She'd climbed onto the coffee table, but wasn't sure how to get down, so she called for help.

Pretty handy with a multidisk gun

Matthew beat the 16-round weapon-switcheroo challenge in Ratche & Clank 3's Annihilation Nation, but then got tired of the arena matches. He prefers the "maze" ones now. He hasn't beaten any yet; the timed jumps are tough for him. But he's getting close.

A call from a friend

Uncle Grant called Matthew yesterday.

Uncle Grant called Matthew yesterday.

Matthew was thrilled. He kept telling me about how he talked to Uncle Grant on phone!

If making a three year old's day is not good karma I don't know what is.

Walking update

Melissa has been increasingly confident in her ability to walk. At first she'd only go in straight lines, but now she's starting to be able to turn without falling, too.

Today was another first: she got to her feet without holding on to anything. I wonder if this is another skill that she'll only do unconsciously until she gets more comfortable with the idea.

Babies are so easily amused

[Hands Daddy some object.] Daddy: "Thank you!"
[Holds out hand for Daddy to give back object.] Daddy: "You're welcome"
Melissa: [giggles]


Repeat until Daddy's attention span runs out.

(Sometimes she will play this with Matthew, too.)

Baby talk

Melissa's starting to say words besides mamamamama and dadadada.

Yesterday she said "aw duh" [all done] when she was finished eating her beans (black, like her older brother at this age); today Rachel said she said "kiss" in an appropriate context.

My dad thinks when she said "meh" in church that she was imitating the "amen," but that one's close enough to random baby noises that I'm less sure of that one.

I suspect Melissa will be speaking with facility sooner than her brother.

Patience? In Matthew?

I came into the kitchen and was confronted by Matthew in superhero costume, holding an extra "cape" in front of him.

"Dada," he announced, "dis [this] dae'."

Matthew's pronunciation still leaves a lot to be desired.

"Uh... Cape?" I guessed hopefully.

"No. Dis tape [cape, motioning towards the one he was wearing]. Dae'."

"Jake? Day?"

"No. Dae'."

I repeated my earlier guesses but I was drawing a blank. Usually at this point Matthew would get increasingly frustrated. Instead, he explained himself:

"Dae'. You tant [can't] go troo [through] it."

"Oh! Gate!" (Normally the purpose of gates is to be passed through, but Matthew meant it was impassable without his august permission.)

"Yes. Dae."

Crisis averted.

Correction: Matthew REALLY likes being a superhero

The blue mask I wrote about several days ago is now Matthew's essential accessory. He wears it at all times except when he sleeps. I've been to the library, outside, and stores while accompanied by SUPERMATTHEW. He's been especially helpful lately too. All I have to do is ask SuperMatthew to assist me in someway, and he cheerfully says, "Sure!" and zooms off to accomplish the task.

-Rachel

At the cabin

This last weekend we went up in the mountains near Huntsville (absolutely gorgeous! I'd love to live there, at least until the first winter.) and had a cousin get together. Lot of fun. Matthew and Melissa had a grand time in the house. Matthew was thrilled that the house was laid out so he could run circles around and around. Melissa enjoyed the stairs to the loft. Up and down. Up and down.....

Matthew was pleased that Alycia's husband, Justin was there. Now if anyone can keep up with Matthew my bet would be on Justin. And for about the first hour and a half he did. They discovered the water pump, a little stream, birds and raced across the property and house. Then Justin pettered out. He looked over at Jonathan as Matthew zoomed by, "Is he always THIS busy?" Jonathan just smiled.

Matthew was exceptionally good on the trip. He only had a minor fit when he realized we would not be driving home to put him in his bed for the night. Once having a new bed was phrased as an adventure, he was cool.

Makes me hopeful that traveling (by my lonesome) to Grandma and Grandpa's in a few weeks will go smoothly. Please?

-Rachel

Naughty Goat!

Yesterday for family home evening we took the kids to a petting farm. Matthew enjoyed the pony rides and Melissa liked petting a baby goat. It's nice to go this time of year because of all the baby animals, from tiny chicks, to little calves. There were "dairy themed" activities for kids this time. Matthew got to "churn" butter by shaking cream in a small container and then ate it on crackers with a carton of chocolate milk to wash it down. He also made a cow mask out of paper. A good time was had by all until Matthew met his nemesis.

As we were preparing to leave Matthew decided he wanted to feed a goat some corn. Fine. I boasted him up to reach the goat. All of a sudden, the goat climbed the rails, and lightening fast snatched Matthew's mask and proceeded to eat it. I recovered part of the mask, but wasn't fast enough to rescue all of it. Matthew was distraught.

Today his favorite topic is that "naughty goat."

The first thing he said to me this morning-
"Naughty goat eat Matthew's mask. Make Matthew cry." "Bad-guy goat."

While picking up his room this afternoon, he ran across some goats that went with his barn and that started another discourse on the failings of goats in general. All other animals have risen in his esteem.

"Dog good. Dog not eat Matthew's mask."

As consolation for the loss of his mask, we made superhero masks out of blue foam. Matthew likes being a superhero.

-Rachel

Boys are different from girls

Matthew's baby doll was sick when last he played with it. (A couple weeks ago.) Now it's All Better.

And flying around the house, shooting things. Whrrrrw. Prrw prrw prrw! Tschhhh!

The amazing transforming bear

Matthew has three teddy bears, but Melissa's was the one he wanted to play with. I can see where he was coming from, though, because Melissa's was a transforming bear. It looks like a normal teddy bear, but when Matthew scrunched down its head and folded in its limbs it was a ... spaceship bear! Whoosh! Zoom!

With age comes wisdom

This morning, Matthew saw the bowl his mom and I had been eating popcorn out of last night. Naturally, he wanted popcorn for breakfast. Being the pushover that I am, I said he could have some after a bowl of cheerios.

He ate his cereal in record time and I made him some popcorn. He ate a little, then took a 5 minute break to get a piece of kernel out of his teeth. (He loves popcorn but he has had a completely unreasonable phobia of kernels lately, thanks to a joy school lesson that he blew all out of proportion.)

So he got the one kernel out, then started trying to get another one out. "Matthew," I said, "did you know that if you just eat more popcorn, it will often dislodge the kernel in your teeth?" Matthew decided that was worth a try. A couple minutes later he ran over excitedly. "Dada! More popcorn get kernel ou' [out of] my teeth!"

That's your dad, the Sage of Snack Food.

Sweet Dreams

Matthew told me that he went to the "candy land factory" last night.

(There's a candy factory not too far away and I've taken him a few times to watch the lollipops and candy canes being made.)

"Last night?"

"Yeah. And Michael there. (Michael is Matthew's best friend.) The candy roll round and round. Get longer and longer."

"Was it good?"

"Yeah! Matthew eat it all gone."

Well, now I know what he dreams of. Sweet dreams indeed!

-Rachel

The facts of life, three-year-old style

Tonight was tiring. Rachel had orchestra practice, and Melissa was sick, so Matthew didn't get a whole lot of attention from Dad, who was kinda of snappish anyway.

I put Matthew to bed first. (Otherwise, he'd come and chatter at me while I was trying to get Melissa down.) When Melissa was asleep in her crib I went back to Matthew's room and sat with him in the rocking chair. I told him what a good boy he has been tonight and I was sorry I was impatient with him. "Das' awight, Dada," he said. "Iss not you fault."

Then he started talking about all the body parts he had. I pointed out his heel and his ankle. He probably already knew what they were, but he asked anyway: "Where ankle come from?" Our favorite question of late.

"Mama made your ankle before you were born. You were inside Mama. Mama and Dada made you."

"Really?" "Really."

Matthew thought for a bit. "Mama, Dada sad -- no Matthew. Mama, Dada make Matthew. Mama, Dada happy have Matthew!"

Yes, we're happy we made Matthew.

(Then he postulated how Matthew help Mama Dada make Llissis. I told him that No, Mama and Dada made Melissa without Matthew, but Matthew was a good older brother all the same.)

Walking

Melissa is in no hurry to walk, unlike her brother who walked at 9 months and change. This doesn't bother us, except it IS increasingly difficult to keep her in pants -- now that Winter is over it's hard to find long baby pants, and she's worn holes in the knees of all the ones she already has.

But despite encouragement from her mom and dad, she just couldn't be bothered with walk practice. If she consented to it at all, she insisted on holding both my hands.

Today, then, was a breakthrough: she walked holding one hand to her mom in the kitchen, to the bathroom, to the kitchen, to the bathroom, to the living room, where she found something more interesting than walking. (A mostly-deflated balloon.)

Uh-oh

Mom went to play with the Riverton orchestra tonight. Daddy had the kids.

Matthew went to bed with reasonably good grace, or at least no worse than usual, but Melissa did not. She fell asleep while I rocked her, but as soon as I put her in the crib she sprang up madder than a wet hen. She yelled if I rocked her more, yelled if I bounced her on her knees, yelled if I tried to tuck her back in and pat her back.

So I told her if she was just going to yell anyway, she could yell by herself in the crib. And I left. Half an hour later the yelling subsided and I figured she must be asleep.

When Rachel got home she went to check on her baby and found her on our bed -- next to the crib. Looks like Melissa, like Matthew, is truly an heir of her mother's climbing genes.

There's such a thing as too much imagination

Matthew is very into imagining things. This is great, because he can entertain himself for a lot longer than he used to. But it does have a downside.

Tonight Matthew was playing on the neighbor's slide. Whatever game he was playing involved a blue gameboy, a ticket, and money. When we came inside, he started to get agitated. "I lef' gameboy, ticket ou'side!"

Daddy thought quickly. "I picked them up for you, Son. Here they are." And I mimed handing him the gameboy and ticket, and all was well.

When boys play with teddy bears

Matthew was playing with Melissa's teddy bear last night. (He has a couple of his own, but playing with Melissa's is more fun, somehow.) Bear swooshed around the house, shooting bad guys, until Matthew had an even better idea.

Bear could turn into a spaceship.

Matthew folded up its arms and legs and tucked down its head until he had a compact Bear Cubeship. Then the cubeship swooshed around the house, shooting bad guys.

I'll take blue-collar bed sheets

I remember reading somewhere that really high-threadcount bed sheets are a waste of money because you can't tell the difference between them and cheaper ones, past a count of 2 or 3 hundred.

This is incorrect.

Rachel got some really high-count sheets, 6 or 8 hundred or so. They're supposed to feel cooler in the summer. They do. They also feel slippery. Like I'm risking a friction burn every time I get in bed.

So they have been relegated to the guest bed for now.

60 seconds

Matthew's latest thing when Mom puts him to bed is being rocked while they count to 60. (So it's really more like 3 or 4 minutes.)

He's very pleased with being able to count and likes to find new opportunties to practice.

It's 10:30. Do you know where Matthew is?

I know where he is: in bed. Wide awake. Alternately singing the
ABC's to himself and talking about Bad Guys.

Tomorrow he will wake between 6:30 and 7:00, as he always does no
matter how late he is up. And then he will be grumpy because he
really needs 12 hours of sleep to have his happy-batteries fully
charged. And his Mom will bear the brunt of the grumps. Poor Rachel.

Old news: after I wrote about Matthew learning to type his name, my
friend Mark told me that he gave his niece a really old laptop for
that sort of thing. Oddly enough, my Dad just shipped me my mom's old
486-33, I think it is, with grayscale (passive matrix) LCD. Windows
3.1 and DOS!

Matthew thinks it ROCKS.

It works fine except the battery is totally dead, and it seems to be
very sensitive to dirty AC, or something. It will work for anywhere
from 10 seconds to 10 minutes, then die without warning. Sometimes it
dies during the boot process. I'm tempted to get a UPS for it but
that seems silly given how much more the UPS would be worth than the
laptop.

Why I didn't sleep much last night

(Graphic descriptions of gross bodily functions ahead. You have been warned.)

Shortly after 2 AM last night, Melissa started making kind of a choking coughing sound, like you might make if you were trying to hack up a really big loogie.

Then BAAAAAARF she puked all over the bed. Got some on the quilt, too.

Trying to clean Melissa off was clearly a lost cause, so Rachel bathed Melissa while I changed the bed sheets. (I have to give "Totally Toddler" props for living up to its billing in getting the puke smell out of the mattress where it had soaked through the sheet.)

Melissa enjoyed her bath. It was like she was thinking, "Hey, this isn't so bad after all."

We got the sheets changed and Melissa bathed and dressed in under half an hour. We congratulated ourselves that it could have been worse.

It got worse.

Ten minutes after we went back to bed, and before anyone really got back to sleep, the hawking sounds started again. "Oh no!" I ran to get a cloth diaper for her to barf in. I was too late. And anyway, the way she flails around, it probably wouldn't have done any good.

Rachel bathed her again -- she didn't enjoy it as much this time -- and I changed the sheets. Again. At least Melissa didn't get quilt #2.

By this time Melissa was pretty awake. Rachel took her into the front room to rock her to sleep. I went to bed. For about 5 minutes, until she puked again. Poor kid.

This time she nailed Rachel pretty good. And the floor. Not so much on herself. I changed her onesie and wiped her off while Rachel showered. While I was rocking Melissa I heard crying from Matthew's room. I figured maybe the noise had finally woken him up. I didn't really want to, but I went to see what was wrong.

Matthew had puked on his bed, too.

Fortunately, Matthew was sleeping on top of his quilt, which, unlike ours, was machine-washable. None of the small amount of barf got through to the other sheets. Also, Matthew's old enough now that he knows that there are Good Places To Puke and there are Bad Places To Puke, and his bed wasn't on the good list. (He probably wasn't very awake when it first came up.) He said something about having more business to do, but he wasn't in any hurry to go to the bathroom, so I picked him up and deposited him in front of the toilet. He finished things off there, washed his mouth off with water, and went back to bed. Took it quite in his stride, really.

I got him a bowl in case he had more later. He said he didn't need it but I told him to humor me.

He needed it.

Fortunately that was the last incident for the night, and he kept it in the bowl. Rachel took Melissa again to settle her down while I went back to bed to try to get back to sleep.

Elapsed time: over 2 hours. It was probably another 20 minutes before Rachel got Melissa down.


* Rachel's note: Actually Matthew threw up 2-3? more times and I got up with him each time to console and clean the bowl. He mostly took it in stride. Poor kid. Poor parents. What a night.

Matthew is BIG!

...and don't you dare say otherwise Michael.

Yesterday Matthew went to Michael's house to play. Michael decided to boast about his size relative to Matthew (all two inches!)

Michael: I big! Matthew is short. Matthew is little.

Matthew: I big too!

Michael: No you're not!

Matthew: Matthew IS BIG. Michael's big too. We're both big!

This back and forth started to get heated, so Michael's mom found something to distract the two debators.

We have learned long ago to never suggest that Matthew is anything but big and getting bigger still. Even Jonathan's affectionate nickname for him, 'my little man,' was met with indignation, and hence is no longer used.

-Rachel

A night from Hell

Last night Rachel felt like she was in the beginning stages of mastitis. Not cool.

Even less cool when Melissa decided to wake up 4 times that I remember. But these were not "wake up and go back to sleep when Daddy pats my back" wakes. These were "wake up and get angrier and angrier until Mommy nurses me, then grudgingly drift back to sleep."

It sucks that we can't just train her to sleep better by herself, because this training would necessarily involve a lot of yelling, and Rachel understandably can't sleep when her baby is yelling. (Daddies have less compunctions about this. At least I do.) So to keep the peace we do what she says, more or less.

Makes me feel like Neville Chamberlain.

(Even Melissa was tired after last night. After she got up this morning and refused to go back to sleep, I took her to the living room where she sacked out on my lap and slept there until her brother woke her up half an hour later yelling for Dad. Stubborn baby!)

Sam's choice: best float root beer on the planet?

Sam's Choice is strong root beer. Almost too strong. "Almost as strong as my Dad's root beer, the kind that blew up," says Rachel.

But it is fantastic root beer for floating ice cream in. Wimpier root beers get overpowered by the vanilla and surrender. Not Sam's Choice.

Mmmmmm.

More "Mercs"

Matthew really loves this game. He'll beat it 2 or 3 times in a row sometimes.

This morning as the ending credits rolled and it showed the two mercs driving away, Matthew told me, "He need go home, say Hi his kids."

"Mercs: he saved the president. Can he change the dirty diaper?"

Every boy wants to be a fireman or an astronaut

(Or possibly both at once.)

Matthew went deep into astronaut mode today. Rachel thinks this is a delayed reaction from the "imagination" lesson he had in joy school a week ago. (Matthew also figured out which symbol on the CD player corresponded to the theme song from that lesson and played it over and over.)

So today at the library he wanted nothing but astronaut books. With the aid of a helpful librarian he came home with around a dozen. Some are too advanced for him. That's okay; we'll talk about the pictures.

I read one of them to him tonight for bedtime. It was about different things astronauts do in the space shuttle. It was very short, so when he asked me to read it again, I did.

Gaming sophistication

Matthew's favorite game recently is Mercs, from the Capcom Collection. It has two main things going for it:

• Infinite lives
  
• Every life you start with 3 "bombs" that blow up all the bad guys on screen
  

So even a fairly impatient boy can beat the game fairly easily. Still, I've noticed that he's a lot better than he was when he first started: now (even though he has infinite lives) he dodges enemy fire and uses his non-bomb weapon occasionally -- as well as the more powerful vehicle-mounted weapons that you come across occasionally.

Peanuts

• I've mentioned before that Matthew helps with the silverware when it's dishes-doing time. (When he's awake for it, anyway. Which seems seldom, come to think of it.) Sunday was the first time I saw him sort the little spoons and little forks separately from their larger counterparts. He usually got the forks correct; spoons were harder, for some reason.
• Spring is here, the time when a young man's heart turns to... Mama! Practically every time he goes outside, he picks her a dandelion: "Here, Mama. Matthew give you flower! Put in water!" He's very insistent about the water. So I come home and there's a glass of water on the counter with a dandelion head floating in it -- he only picks the heads.
  

Daddy does dinner

"Finish your goldfish [crackers], Son. Then you can have a popsicle."

(And they were good popsicles, too. Even though the prominent "90% juice" declaration on the box turned out to mean that all the popsicles were 90% apple juice, even the "orange" and "grape" ones.)

My obsessive-cumpulsive son

I've written about this before, but here's a couple more examples.

Matthew came down with something today. He was bouncing around normally this morning, but after Rachel left to have lunch with friends, he grew listless. Unfortunately I'd already told him we'd go to a slide while his mom was gone, so I took him. (I did ask him if he was too tired, and of course he said no.) Once we were there he just sat on his bench and sipped root beer. Too tired to play on the slide basically means he's sick.

And he was sick. Oh yes. "Matthew is sick," he told me. Uh-oh. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" "Yes." "Right now?" "Yes." He still didn't move, so I picked him up and ran to the restroom, where we found... a toilet whose previous business had clogged it. Matthew just stood there and moaned. So I whisked him to the sink where he promptly puked all over. Fortunately he didn't get any on himself or me. (But he did the next time a couple hours later...)

Sick as a dog, but not going to use a dirty toilet!

This afternoon after two more purges, he was feeling a little better. Wandering through the living room, he noticed a box of flash cards that was upside-down. Absently, he came over, righted it, and moved on.

An night of firsts

Last night at dinner, Matthew was playing with his food. He split his green beans apart to extract the seeds and wouldn't shut up about it. "Dada! Two seeds! Dada! Three seeds!" etc.

Finally I said, "Son, I don't care how many seeds there are! Just eat them, okay!"

He turned back to his plate and rebeliously grumbled, "Dada stupi'."

Somebody got a timeout in the bathroom.

On a happier note, Melissa had a first last night, too: she's old enough to play "Daddy chases Melissa;" she giggled and giggled as I crawled around after her and occasionally grabbed her foot.

She only wanted to be chased to the open bathroom, though. Maybe the thought that she was going somewhere she shouldn't added spice to it.

Tigers in Matthew's house

Today they had a lesson on imagination in preschool. This is right up Matthew's alley. When we got home Matthew wanted to go on a spaceship ride.

"You sit here in spaceship Mama."

"You need buckle up."

He then turned the "ignition," pressed some buttons, put on his pretend helmet and goggles, grasped his steering wheel and we were off to the moon.

Once we arrived on the moon it was time to go on a tiger hunt. He uncoiled his pretend rope and tossed it to catch a tiger. After petting it for a while he decided to let it go so it could go home to his mama. So we went back to the spaceships and flew back to Earth.

Ever since, there've been tigers everywhere in our house. Whole families of tigers.

"Tigers not dangerous Matthew. Tigers like Matthew."


Melissa Shares

I gave Melissa some crackers during dinner tonight. She was quite content to crumble and munch on them. After a while she slowed down so I made mmmm! and smacking sounds. She looked a me, looked a the cracker in her hand, and then offered me the cracker! At first I tried to graciously decline, but she held her hand out still, so I nibbled on it and said "Thank you!" She thought this was pretty funny. She took a bite herself and then offered it again. This time I was able to decline the soggy cracker by distracting her. Still, a sweet gesture.

-Rachel

The ERT

I was talking to Rachel last night. Matthew was off in the bathroom washing his hands, but just to be safe, I spelled something out that I didn't want him to understand. I don't remember what it was last night -- we were talking about bedtime, and I can't figure out what I would have considered sensitive information wrt that -- but I'll often say things like, "Should I take Matthew to the S L I D E?" or, "Would you like some C H O C O L A T E?"

I think he's on to me. He came back and asked, "You take Matthew E R T?"

E R T?

Okay, so spelling isn't his strong point yet. But if he's figured out that "take Matthew [group of letters]" means something exciting, I need to come up with a new strategy.

Old is such a relative term

"Daddy, sha' dis! [watch this]"

Matthew spun around on the hardwood floor on his back and his hands and knees. "I spin 'round! You try, Daddy?"

"No thank you, son."

"Why not?"

"I think I'm too old."

"I old! I three! I do it! You try?"

Reason #435 I'm glad I married Rachel

A couple weeks ago, I was playing Guitar Hero with Matthew while Melissa crawled around on the floor. It was a good evening. Baby was happy. Rachel was probably organizing things or something. (I don't remember exactly, but it seems like a pretty good guess, since she does that a lot.)

So Matthew and I were shredding away when Melissa decided to crawl through the guitar cord. She's a very ... determined girl, so when it arrested her forward progress she simply applied more force. I watched in horror as she dragged the PS2 off the shelf, crashing onto the floor.

It was not a happy playstation. The disc drive would not open. Repeated reboots only got "disk read error." It was dead.

Figuring that, hey, what brute force broke, brute force can fix, I got my vice grips to pry the drive open. I only succeeded in breaking off a piece of the face plate, then tearing off the rest -- which was not insecurely attached!

I tabled it in disgust. I knew I could open it up with a screwdriver, but there were a lot of screws, and I wasn't in the mood, that night or the next. Matthew was disappointed that we no longer played "yutarr game."

Then a couple days later when I got home, Matthew told me the good news: "Mama fix playsasion! We play yutarr game!"

Rachel said she just jiggled it the right way to un-wedge the disc inside, and that was that. Some people are just better at these things than others, I guess!

Guitar Hero is in the house again.

Peek-a-boo

Got Matthew to bed. Played with Melissa -- she was in a ticklish mood, right up Daddy's alley. Usually she's too busy with Important Baby Business to be tickled, but sometimes in the evenings she's more in the mood.

So, I played with Melissa, then sat down with my laptop to read some blogs. Melissa crawled over and climbed up my knees behind the laptop screen. I thought she was going to try to pull the screen down and chew on it the way she's done in the past. Instead, she poked her head out to the side and looked at me. Then pulled her head back. Then put it out again.

She wanted to play peek-a-boo! I played along: "Where's Melissa?" "There she is!" She giggled and giggled. We played for a good long while.

Burned out

Just for the record, my three-year-old-son can beat your three year old at Burnout: Revenge.

(A driving game that encourages crashing is right up his alley. Since that's pretty much his goal anyway.)

Our Happy Baby is Back!

Matthew and Melissa both had a really nasty virus for about a week- fevers, severely congested noses, throwing up, the works. For several days I just held kids in my lap and we ate popsicles and watched movies. Since they were feeling so lousy they were clingy and whiny. Fun fun. Matthew bounced back more quickly, but Melissa just started getting back to her old cheerful self Saturday. (She's starting to sleep better again, for a while she was sleeping only 2 hours a night. Ugh. This is also why I haven't been very diligent about posting- I'M still recovering from sleep deprivation!)

Today she's been so pleasant! She sits on her knees and bounces up and down while making happy hooting noises. She's so much more playful, giggly, and excited about everything. At church she flirted outrageously with other ladies and babies. Melissa really came to our family delighted about life. It's so nice to have our happy baby back.

-Rachel

Baby activities

[I actually wrote this before Rachel, but she didn't know, and covered the same material in her long post today. I liked hers better, so deleted this one. Now Rachel wants me to paste it back in.]

Melissa's picked up a couple tricks. One is blowing: Daddy blows; baby blows back. Yeah, it's kind of dull, but she likes interacting with us.

The other is clapping. She loooooves clapping. Then we'll clap back and she'll grin a huge grin and clap some more.

Rachel has ordered a baby sign language book.

It's quiet in the house...

...the kids went with Daddy so now I have some time to collect myself and write about the last 2 weeks. If only I could remember everything.

Marriage and Rings

Two weeks ago, on a Thursday, Jonathan flew out of town to speak at a computer language conference. He submitted his topic 6 months ago and committed to attend before he learned about his friend's upcoming nuptials. Friday, his best friend got married so I attended the wedding and reception following. Ellis, Jon's friend, is over fairly often, and used to come with Grant (Matthew's uncle). Matthew started calling him Uncle Ellis. (We didn't want Matthew calling adults by their first name, but Mr. So-and-so seemed so formal for a close family friend so Uncle Ellis stuck). I informed Matthew that Uncle Ellis got married to Aunt Merri (How's that for confusing to a 3 year old?)

Matthew responded, "Uncle Ellis not married. Uncle Ellis have no ring."

Where he picked up on marriage with rings I have no idea. When I took the kids to the reception that evening (a friend watched them for the wedding) Matthew wanted to make sure Ellis and his bride had rings. When he saw the rings he conceeded that they were indeed married. I think he was pleased, he does seem to like Aunt Merri. But then again, maybe his whole concept of marriage is having a ring. His Uncle Grant is engaged to be married in August. When Matthew heard of this, he again stated that Uncle Grant could not be getting married because he too lacked a ring. Perhaps it will sink in when he meets his new Aunt Lisa.

The rest of that weekend is a blur. I remembered being so grateful when Jonathan came home Sunday evening (late) even though he had to go to work on Monday. I was so tired.

Speaking of New Aunts

Matthew's Aunt Telitha and Uncle Nolan had their baby not too long ago. Yea! I'm an Aunt! Baby James is Matthew's and Melissa's first cousin on either side. I was pretty excited when I heard the news. When I told Matthew about his new baby cousin, he informed me,

"I have baby sister Lis lis (Melissa). Don't want TWO babies."

"No, Matthew. This is a cousin. We admire him from afar (too far! They're in Ohio!) and don't take him home with us."

"Oh, okay."

He seemed mollified that we would not be adding to our family another baby just yet. One is quite enough for him!

In baby news

Melissa now claps her hands together. She really takes pleasure in getting other people to clap with her. She'll also grab a finger on each of her Daddy's hands and pull them together to clap his hands. I've decided that she'd probably like baby signs, because she enjoys interacting with people so much. We'll see how that goes. Melissa has also learned how to blow. She picked it up when I changed her diaper. I'd blow to distract her, or if her bottom looked sore, and she started blowing back at me! At first I thought she would only do that during a diaper change, but Jonathan demonstrated otherwise. The two of them were blowing at eachother and laughing like loons. Pretty silly.

On the Discipline Front
or Revenge Pee II

We found ourselves as parents nagging our son and giving warnings. As a result, we didn't see the desired action from Matthew until we sounded mad. So we scrapped all warnings and just administered the consequence immediately. (Usually by placing him in his room until he was ready to be pleasant again). Well, being the strong-willed spirit that he is, he decided to up the ante. When placed in his room he'd get back at us by delibrately wetting his pants. The first time it happened I was willing to give him the benefit of doubt. The second time it occurred it was unmistakably on purpose. So I had him put his wet clothes in the washing machine, wipe up the mess in his room (with help of course), and stay there until his clothes were clean again. He literally went through all his pairs of pants and spent the majority of the day in his room. Hmmm. At the end of the day I was frustrated, though I did get 7 or 8 loads of laundry clean and folded.

Daddy got a brainstorm.

Matthew's room was too comfortable a place to be while waiting for his clothes to wash. He had plenty of toys and distractions in there. In addition, the carpet was a poor place for urine cleanup. So Dad emptied the bathroom of all its contents. He didn't leave soap, toilet paper, or even cupboard drawers. The next time Matthew decided to get even we were prepared (and we didn't have to wait long). Daddy calmly told Matthew that he seemed to be having a hard time getting to the toilet in time, so he would be spending his time in the bathroom while his clothes washed. After that point he would be welcome to join us again. He was furious and raged for a while. After some time he told us he was ready to be good. We told him we were happy about that, but his clothes were not quite done. Again he fumed and then settled down. So far he's repeated the revenge pee only once more. I guess it sounds a little drastic, but we had to nip this habit, and other milder methods hadn't worked. Boy what a stubborn son we have!

But he can be so charming too!

It is one of the sweetest feelings in the world when he spontaneously wraps his arms around my neck and tells me "I love you Mommy!" (Just recently he switched from Mama to Mommy most of the time). He also loves to rock and sing together.

Recently he mastered the ABC song, though the LMNOP part is shaky. He is quite pleased about knowing his ABCs. Popcorn popping, Twinkle twinkle are also in his nightly reportoire. Currently his favorite bedtime/naptime book is Peter Rabbit. I can't even count the number of times I've read it. Occasionally I can tempt him with something else, but he remains a loyal Beatrix Potter fan. I don't understand why the repetition- he knows the storyline and will jump in before I even have a chance to read it! Oh well, maybe Daddy can read Peter Rabbit tonight.

Which reminds me

About a month ago Matthew watched a Seasame Street in which they talked about writing on the computer, and he decided he wanted to write his name on the computer. So I opened notebook typed his name and showed where the keys were. He was engrossed for half and hour! And he typed his name over and over. In the process, he learned how to spell his name written or verbally. He still doesn't have the coordination to write with a pencil yet, but maybe we can teach him more words on the computer.

-Rachel

In the kitchen

Matthew likes to play cook lately. Right now, he's "cooking" hot chocolate. His castle turrets are the stove burners; a ball is the marshmallows. He's careful to use oven mitts, because it's hot!

He also likes to "cook" his ball collection. He has a dozen or more balls that he puts into a pot, and simmers them for a while. Then out come the mitts again.

Sometimes he cooks with Melissa. This is more Mama's idea than his: "Melissa will help you! You put the balls in, she takes the balls out!" Matthew is a little dubious about this "help" but goes along with it sometimes. Melissa thinks Matthew is soooooo cool.

Guitar Hero

Last night Matthew beat his first Guitar Hero song. On easy, and with Dad doing the frets and whammy bar. But he hit the strummer all by himself!

When I first got the game 4 months ago Matthew tried it a couple times and just got frustrated. He could sort of connect the notes on screen with what he was supposed to do, but had no rythm whatsoever so anything less than a really long pause between notes baffled him.

He still has trouble sometimes concentrating -- he would have beaten his song several nights ago if he didn't keep getting distracted and offering me some random observation while the notes passed by unheeded -- but I'm very pleased. That's my boy!

Beverage adventures

Melissa's has a really bad cold and hasn't been nursing much with her nose so stuffy. (She hasn't been sleeping much, either. Maybe 2 hours a night for the last 3 nights.) So Rachel's had to pump some to avoid discomfort, not to mention possible mastitis.

So Friday morning I gave Melissa a snap-top sippy cup full of breast milk and sat her in the swing, while I went downstairs to take care of something. When I came back up, Melissa was happily playing with a topless, upside-down sippy cup. The milk was all over the swing and the floor.

Today I tried again, with a screw-top this time. I put the business end in her mouth as a hint. She grinned at me, grabbed the cup from me, reversed it, and tried to put the same end in MY mouth.

At least she's having fun with it!

A boy needs his dad

I was at PyCon in Texas for three days last week. Matthew missed his dad. When I got back he had started including in his prayer, "Bwess Dada come home [to] Whatthew [from] work." I was flattered.

Melissa Updates

Melissa cut a bottom tooth last week. She is also cruising with her walking push toy. She holds on to the bar and pushes it along. She is very pleased with herself. We suspect it won't be too long before she's walking.

Jonathan says that when he takes her in the morning (while I sleep, Thank you Jon!) or any other time I'm not around she'll be initially fine playing with her Daddy. After a while she'll start crawling around looking in various rooms and saying MamamaMa! MamamaMa! Jonathan thinks she's trying to call me. I haven't heard this yet, but it sounds cute. When he does bring her to me she acts very excited.

-Rachel

Time to Go!

Thursday Matthew was having a tough time getting dressed. He's fully capable of putting his clothes on once they've been laid out, he just wasn't in any particular hurry to do so. Unfortunately it was a preschool day and I was tired of being late. After an hour of dilly dallying, I told him I would set the timer (for 10 minutes) and when it rang we were leaving because it was time to go.

The timer rang.

The Matthew was only partially clothed and he gave me a "now what?" look.

The Mother was prepared.

I scooped up Matthew put him in the carseat with a blanket. Meanwhile he yelled at the top of his lungs about his lack of pants and socks. He seemed utterly shocked that his Mother would enforce "time to go." I let him protest in the car while I gathered the rest of his clothes and put them in a bag. I also called his teacher and informed her of the state in which Matthew would be arriving. She said, "Oh this is perfect! We will be discussing choices today!" So unwittingly, Matthew became the object lesson.

During the drive to the house where preschool was being held that day, Matthew let his outrage be known. I carried him to the house wrapped in a blanket. He sobered up at this point (I think because he knew it wouldn't affect the outcome). Once inside, I deposited him in the bathroom with his bag of clothes, gave him a kiss, wished him a good day, and walked away. I was a little worried about how he'd behave, but my concerns were unnecessary. "He was so good today! He offered to help and was so polite," his teacher raved. Yesss! Chalk one up for Mom. He was pleasant the rest of the day. I think it was a good learning experience.

-Rachel

Calvinball

In one of his anthlogies, Watterson answers what he says is a FAQ: "What are the rules to Calvinball?" And he answers, "It's simple: you make it up as you go along."

Little boys understand this instinctively. Yesterday during a LAN party for adults, one of my friends brought his son Ben over to play with Matthew. They chased each other around with one of Matthew's green balls, and I'm sure that what they played was Calvinball. It involved, at various points, ping-pong-ball guns, auxilliary juggling balls, and hitting each other. (Everything little boys do together will at some point involve hitting each other.)

A good time was had by all.

You can run, but you can't hide

Melissa wasn't in the living room where we'd left her. She wasn't in the front room getting into the plants, which is usually her first destination. Where was she?

Rachel heard giggling from the bedroom. We'd left the door open and Melissa was happily tearing into a roll of toilet paper.

Kids are terrible at being sneaky. When I play hide-and-seek with Matthew ("No way!"), I can almost always track him by the giggling coming from under the blanket or in the closet or behind the door.

Not that I'm complaining!

Peanuts

Rachel took both kids to the Lehi pool this morning. Brave woman! ("Do you have any idea how hard it is to get THREE people dried and dressed, when you're the only one doing the drying and dressing?") She said Matthew really enjoyed the water slide and Melissa kicked and kicked and played herself out, so much so that she slept all through lunch strapped in her car seat, which is pretty much unheard of.

During lunch, Matthew found his blue ball in his jacket pocket -- the one he got from the doctor's office months ago. (The good thing about having a 3 year old's memory is you're always pleasantly surprised by what's in your pockets.) Then he started telling me, "Maattew ball! Not Eesan ball! Eesan take Maattew ball! No! My ball!" I think if Ethan had been there he would have gotten slugged.

Rachel cleared things up for me: at joy school yesterday, Ethan had a ball, and Matthew tried to take it from him.

I don't think he's deliberately lying when he tells stories like this. Maybe he has a good imagination -- like Hollywood said, "inspired by actual events!" Or maybe it's that 3 year old memory thing again.

Boydame

I took Matthew to his nursery teacher's house to drop off some cookies tonight. He announced our return with a loud "We're home!"

Then he started chanting, "Boydame! Boydame! Boydame!" We couldn't figure it out. It sounded like "board game," but his only board game is Candyland, which he knows by name. Blue game? Ball game? Boat game? He corrected us after each guess: boydame!

Finally Daddy figured it out: he wanted to play his gameboy! Gameboy, boygame... it's all the same, right?

I thought at first that this was proof that Matthew was dyslexic like his uncle David, who he resembles more than his dad in some ways, but while I was writing it, it occurred to me: maybe he's just applying English grammar to it. "Silly Dad. Game isn't an adjective. Game is a noun. Therefore it must really be a Boy Game."

Just a thought.

Either way, his mom and I were highly amused when we finally figured him out.

Happiness is a jar of pennies

A few weeks ago in a church meeting, I lamented Matthew's ignorance of financial matters. What prompted this was me breaking something -- I don't remember what -- and Matthew consoling me: "Don' worry, Dada. We go store, get new one!"

No! Wrong solution!

But how do you teach a kid who can barely count to three how to value money, I wondered?

One of the other men said that with his three year old, they give her pennies when she does her "chores." She gets ten or so chances a day to earn a penny -- they have a chart with them all laid out. Then when she has enough, they take her to the dollar store and she can pick something out.

Fantastic. We're trying this with Matthew now. We don't have a chart yet; we're just doing it on an ad hoc basis for now. He gets a penny if he puts on his clothes by himself; a penny for taking a nap without whining; a penny for fetching the newspapers; etc. He keeps the pennies in an empty canning jar. I think he's up to a dozen or so, plus a nickel he found somewhere.

Tonight he helped set the table, so I gave him his penny. The novelty definitely hasn't worn off yet. "I rich!" he yelled, and ran off to add it to his jar. I shook my head. "Where did he pick THAT up?" I asked Rachel. She had no idea either.

Today it occurred to me that pennies could be a stick as well as a carrot. He started whining at me a couple times and I told him if he kept whining, he would have to give Daddy a penny for putting up with him. He stopped.

Rachel isn't looking forward to explaining tithing to him, though. I'm more optimistic. I guess we'll see.

Two front teeth

Melissa's second top tooth came in today. This after a grumpy day yesterday and a restless night. HOORAY! Two teeth in, 18 more to go... I'll try to snap a picture of her new pearly whites.

In some respects Melissa is remarkable like Matthew. Just like her predecessor, Melissa doesn't like to be bothered with diaper changes. She prefers to be on the move at all times and 1 minute to change soiled pants is too tedious for her. I've run out of tricks to amuse her and have occasionally resorted to pinning her down with one leg while I do diaper duty. She squawks and tries to roll over during the whole proceedure. I guess it's in the genes. Neither Jonathan nor I are particularily docile.

"I have an Idea!"

Matthew picks up on things so quickly now and likes to play pretend too. Yesterday he asked me, "What dat noise?" I told him I didn't know, I hadn't noticed a noise.
He then said, "I know! I have an Idea!"

He launched into an elaborate tale about two cars crashing outside making the noise.

Matthew also pretends to make things. A few days ago he got out some stacking cups, his toy castle, and some balls. When I asked him what he was doing, he answered, "I making hot chocolate for Mama, Dada, baby sister Lel'lis. Here." And he handed me the medium sized stacking cup with a ball in it, and an admonition to be careful because it was "hot". He then took the big stacking cup with a a ball in it, placed it atop his castle and spun the turret and cup while making humming sounds. (I think he was trying to replicate the microwave.) "Der Dada hot chocolate done."

-Rachel

Count to five

Our son has a very short fuse and gets frustrated easily. This wouldn't be so bad if he weren't a "Monk" (fictional oc detective) in miniature. Almost everything has to be a particular way or he flys off the handle. Seriously. For instance, at dinner if he gets the slightest drop on his hands or face he insists on a napkin then and there and will throw a barely used napkin in the trash and demand another one for the next spill (he used to run to the bathroom every time so this is an improvement). If we state that he must use the same napkin throughout dinner he falls apart. Don't even think of altering his bedtime routine in the slightest or there will be howls of protest.

During a particularly exasperating episode I decided to institute the counting game. Amazingly it worked! He counts to five when he starts to lose it. Most of the time I prompt him, but occasionally he'll start counting on his on accord. Counting only works for minor to medium frustrations, but hey, it's progress.

-Rachel

A couple more thoughts

Melissa cut her first tooth Friday. It's on the left, on her upper jaw, which Rachel tells me is unusual. Marching to her own drummer already...

Melissa is eating more and more solid food. She feeds herself cheerios and such in her high chair; she gets about half in her mouth now, and I recycle the other half from the seat of her chair when she's done. She also eats potatoes and carrots and she LOVES her mom's bean soup.

Matthew's diaper is dry when he wakes up, most of the time.

Melissa is thrilled, in her baby way, when Dad comes home from work. She hoots and crawls towards me eagerly. It's very flattering. Saturday I took Matthew out to burn off some energy at a play area and Melissa was most displeased that she wasn't invited. I almost took her, but I know how this turns out: 15 minutes later she's bored and wants to go home and see Mom, while Matthew's just barely getting started.

It's been a while

12 hour days starting at 6 AM mean I need to be in bed early if I'm going to do more than stare sleepily at the screen all day. Here's some capsule summaries of Peanut goings-on:

Bought a car Monday. ('94 Lincoln Mark VIII. Overpaid a bit, but Rachel was going stark raving mad not having a car -- my vette having failed to pass emissions -- so the alternative was paying $200/wk to rent something.) Matthew attached himself to a happy meal toy at Darin the seller's house, and threw a tantrum when we gave it back, so Darin gave it to him. ("We have a dozen of those anyway.")

We ate at a restaurant to celebrate the new car, and Matthew left his new toy behind. He was TICKED. I called that night and nobody had seen it, so he went to bed angry. (It's all Dad's fault, of course.) The next night I called the restaurant on my way home and they'd found the game under the table, so I picked it up. Matthew thanked me for 3 days. "I glad you find my dame, Dada."

Matthew is playing Sonic Advance for the GBA. I'm so proud. (I picked up an extra GBA at a used store yesterday, and the guy threw in a battery cover from a busted one, so now I can fix my existing, afterburner-enhanced GBA too. Woot for Phantasy Star collection!) It's a bit out of his league, though. Maybe in another year he'll hit his game boy stride.

Son of Pedantic Man

As a kid I had something of a reputation as an annoying little twerp who liked to correct his elders. In this respect at least I can't complain that Matthew doesn't follow in his dad's footsteps.

Tonight, for instance, I got a little exasperated with his apparent inability to sit at the table while eating. (He found making swimming motions on the floor under the table more amusing.) "Matthew," I said, "Dada sits at the table. Mama sits at the table. Even Baby sits at the table." Matthew saw a hole in my logic. "Dats not table! Dats hightsair [highchair]!"

Smooth Talker

Matthew now employs his 3 year-old powers of persuasion on his parents. Instead of resorting to a temper tamtrum when his will is crossed he'll say,

"Pume on! (Come on) Id be Fun!" or

"Pume on! It's good!" [J: usually when trying to get me to eat something]

He says this in a chirpy voice and with a grin on his face . The lastest use of this "power" occurred just after I taught joy school today. He wanted to watch his new Superman DVD. I said not right now, son. "Pume on, id be Fun!" He was so funny batting his eyes and grinning at me that I couldn't help myself and I laughed. He knows the battle is won if he can get his mom to laugh. Little imp! I had had an exhausting morning and so on second thought Superman sounded like a good idea to me too.

Daddy, The Royal Bottom Wiper

Jonathan had been working from home the last 2 weeks of December and Matthew was delighted with the arrangement. Since Daddy was home, Matthew decided to bestow the bottow wiping honor on his Daddy. Lucky Daddy! Yesterday Matthew hollered from the bathroom,

"I allll doonnne!"

"Okay I'm coming."

When I get to the bathroom. Matthew declares, "No! Dadda wipe!"

"Ugh, Matthew, Daddy's at work, so Mamma will wipe."

"No! Dadda go work, Dadda come home Maa-tthew's house, Dadda wipe."

"Son, Dadda will come home when it's dark outside, it's going to be a long time still."

Reluctantly he granted me bottom wiping authority, "Oo-tay, Mamma wipe."

-Rachel

First day in Primary

Matthew graduated from nursery, where they pretty much let the kids under 3 run around and play and eat snacks during the last 2 hours of church, into primary, where they actually try to keep them to sit still and pay attention. Although some slack is cut for the youngest group, the Sunbeams.

His teacher said Matthew has a severe case of the wiggles (tell me about it...) but was happy to go back and sit still when reminded. Until he forgot again, of course.

This brings two thoughts to mind:

"They grow up so fast."

"Man, I wish I had snack time at church!"

Don't make a pig out of yourself, Dad

Apropos of nothing, Matthew comes up to me while I'm getting ready to go somewhere.

"Here, Dada! Hahburszer!" and he places an imaginary hamburger in my hand.

Uh, okay. Glad he's got an imagination, I guess. I put it to my mouth and make noises like a starving teenager inhaling the Best Burger Ever.

"No, Dada! Stop! You eat too much!"

First prayer

Another first: last night Matthew said his going-to-bed prayer himself. All by himself. I remember my parents prompting my younger sister with things to say when they were learning to pray, but this was not for Matthew. He's far too independant.

(Letting Matthew pray was Rachel's idea. She remembers letting him try when he was younger, too, but he wasn't really verbal enough. I don't remember this so I'll take her word for it.)

It was a short prayer, and a lot was unintelligible to either Rachel or myself, but I did understand: "Bwess Mama, Dada, Maa-thew (he's almost entirely abandoned calling himself Wawa now), Lelyiss. Bwess two dwan'ma, Untoh Dwant, Untoh Eiyiss." [Two grandmas, Uncle Grant, Uncle Ellis. His emphasis.]

You trouszo!

Tonight Melissa was playing around the Christmas tree. (After all that work getting it set up, I don't believe in taking it down before the new year.) She got one of those cheapish round ornaments with the metal top holding a loop whose ends extends into the body of the ball to hold it in. She worried at it until she pulled it out. Matthew noticed.

"Mama! Lelyiss brote it!" [Melissa broke it!]

"It's all right, son," I said. "Mama can fix it." I was reading my Corvette Magazine at the time, lamenting the demise of my poor '87.

He took it over to Rachel, but paused on his way, and turning to his sister, pointed a stern three-year-old finger and declaimed, "Lelyiss, you trouszo!" [You're in trouble!] Rachel and I laughed.

Dental hygiene

Took Matthew to the dentist today for his first checkup. He got a brand-new Matthew-sized (roughly 1/2 of a normal toothbrush's bristle-area dimensions) green toothbrush.

I guess he couldn't wait to try it out because after dinner he grabbed it up, disappeared down the hall, and came out brushing his teeth.

Cute! we thought. Then Rachel did a double-take. "Wait -- where'd he get the toothpaste?"

"He goes into our bathroom and helps himself. I've seen him do it before."

He brushed his teeth once more before bedtime, and announced his intention to brush after every meal tomorrow.

Matthew causes his first (?) casualty

I left the living room briefly while Matthew and Melissa were watching a baby video. When I came back I didn't notice anything untoward. Then Matthew bounced on his seat a bit and CRASH! the plate he'd perched on the back hit the floor and shattered.

My parents got a 12-seat set of china as a wedding present. By the time I left home I think they had two bowls left.

Now it's my turn.

[Rachel's note: Alas, it is hardly his first casualty nor, I am certain, his last. Sigh]

Putting the fear of Mom in him

On Friday, I took Matthew with me to pick up some lunch from Rachel's favorite sandwich place. After ordering, they didn't seem in any particular hurry to fill the order, and I felt bad for Matthew, stuck in his seat with nothing to do but talk to Dad, who is, after all, incredibly old.

I asked him if he would like to draw, and handed him a pen and some small sheets of paper that were conveniently in the front seat. He seemed to be having a good time, but either he ran out of paper or needed something more exciting.

"Dada, you draw A B Cs my han' [hand]?"

"No, son. I don't want to draw on your hand."

"You draw A B Cs my leg?"

"No, son. I don't want to draw on your skin at all."

That seemed to settle it. Then: "I draw two A B C my pants!"

Uh-oh. I turned around, and while there was little resemblance to the alphabet, his pants were extensively festooned with ink.

"Son," I said, "It is not good to draw on your pants. It's not good to draw anywhere except on paper. I don't know what to do with you, but I'm sure your mama will when we get home. She will not be happy to see this." I wasn't particularly angry, and I didn't raise my voice, but he got the message.

We got the food and drove home. When we arrived, Matthew immediately made a beeline for his room and hid behind the door. I pulled him out to tell his mom what he did, and he ran back, this time hiding under the covers. For the next two hours he was very subdued, and insisted he'd rather be in bed than eating lunch.

Finally I went to check on him, and he was in much better spirits. He'd changed his pants and was apparently feeling much less doomed.

(We never did impose a punishment. Seems like two hours of feeling impending doom about to descend on you ought to be enough!)

On the proper design of robots

About 10 days ago, Matthew and Rachel were playing with his "oversized legos" blocks. Matthew asked his mom to make him a robot. She did.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo!" A tantrum looked imminent.

"What's wrong, Matthew?"

"Robot shoot! Robot shoot!"

Rachel added guns to the robot's arms. Matthew was pleased and took the robot on trips through the sky, shooting imagined bad guys.

Bedtime

Matthew started yelling for attention 20 minutes after being put to bed. There's usually several of these before he finally goes to sleep, ranging from "I lost my ball" to "I need to pee."

"What is it, son?"

"I nee' [need] sash [wash] han's [hands], Dada. I pick nose."

"New rule, son: when it's after bedtime, you don't need to wash your hands after you pick your nose."

I was rather pleased with this solution to the interruption, even if Rachel wasn't entirely satisfied. But a couple minutes later:

"Dada! Dada! Dada! DADA!"

"... What is it, son?"

"I nee' doh [go] pee."

Photos and such

Rachel has painstakingly ordered the photos on our flickr account to be in something closer to chronological reality. This was hours of work, thanks in part to the flickr organizr's total lack of suitability for sets of more than 4 or 5 pictures. Go check them out and tell her it was not in vain!

Speaking of photos, we had a pro over yesterday to do some Christmas pictures. Our children did not cooperate well. Matthew looked everywhere but at the camera, and Melissa uncharacteristically refused to smile. Of course, as soon as the photographer left, she was our happy baby again. Sigh.

Free advice for automobile manufacturers

I had a brilliant idea the other day, one that all car manufacturers should adopt.

When you are in the car and your wife has left the parking brake half-set, the brake release should have a light that turns on, so it's REALLY OBVIOUS how to un-set it completely, even if it's COMPLETELY DARK outside, when the dash illumination is TOTALLY INADEQUATE to show you where the release is.

Otherwise someone might start hitting buttons essentially at random, which could be dangerous if the car is in motion. And if someone actually heaven forbid got hurt, you could get sued.

So, lightbulbs for the brake release. 'kay? Good.

You may wonder how I came up with such a brilliant if obvious idea. While I frequently come up with such patentable improvements, this one has a special story to go with it.

I took Matthew to the grocery store a couple nights ago. We got groceries and a couple used games from the Gamestop conveniently located next door. (Not that this influenced my choice of grocery store at all.) When we got back, Matthew was really excited. "Dada push wrong button!" "That's enough, son." He'd already announced this a dozen times. "Dada push wrong button!"

We got inside. Rachel had dinner ready. Maybe that would distract him. "Dada push wrong button!"

Guess not.

You see, I explained to my wife, on the way back I noticed that the ebrake light was on. Not sure how I missed it on the way in. Chalk it up to a relentless barrage of three-year-old verbiage from my son.

"Hmm," I thought. "I should probably turn that off." So I rummaged about for the release. Ah, here's a button: Pop! and the trunk went up. Guess that wasn't it. Well, maybe it's one of those ebrakes where you push it a second time to release it. Push!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!!!!!!!!!!!

The wheels locked and I struggled a bit to not veer into another lane. Good thing the light 20 feet ahead was red and I was already slowing, or I probably would have been rear-ended by the minivan behind me. Or if not him, someone; tailgating is a common hobby here in Utah. As it is, the drivers who saw it must have wondered what on earth my son had done to deserve the punishment that would surely follow such a drastic stop. That's what you get for popping the trunk, kid!

I finally found the ebrake handle and released it. I pulled into the gas station conveniently located on the corner to close the trunk, and continued home. Could happen to anyone. No big deal. Just a little emergency stop for no particular reason.

Matthew, of course, thought this was the COOLEST. TRIP. EVER. "Dada push wrong button!" Yes, yes, yes, already!

Sheesh.

Potpourri

[author's note: hope this comes out coherant, I've had a nasty headcold for a week. It doesn't help matters that Melissa's been really stuffy and waking up half a dozen times a night.]

Matthew the Rocker
Jonathan recently purchased a game called"Guitar Hero" in which the player strums a plastic guitar and places fingers on the fret keys to make notes corresponding to notes scrolling down the screen. Matthew loves to 'play' with his daddy. Several days ago, while Dad was at work, he got out the guitar and sang "Nair Nair Nairuuum" while posing on his knees, the guitar finger board vertical. Jonathan thinks it would be a 'great idea' to give this kid a drumset when he gets older. . . . Personally, I think that might be the little boy in Jonathan coming out. A drumset? Hmmmm. . . Maybe if we have a sound proof room then.

Melissa Games
Melissa loves paying the bee game. I circle my finger over her head and make a buzzing sound getting louder as I get closer and then tickle her. She laughs and squirms and reaches for my hand as soon as she hears the sound now. Sometimes she'll preempt the tickle by eating the bee. Another game Melissa enjoys is a version of peekaboo. I've had to come up with ways to keep her attention while changing her diaper, otherwise she'll roll over and crawl away even before I get the soiled diaper off. To entertain her I'll place a flat cloth diaper on her head and ask, "Where's Melissa?" She giggles and will swipe at the diaper until she gets it completely off flashing me a baby grin of delight as I say "There she is!" She thinks its even more funny if I pick up the diaper before she does and announce in mock surprise "Oh there's my baby!" This buys me some precious seconds to change her. I'm just glad I don't have to use pins with the diapers- I'm sure I'd have stabbed myself numerous times by now.

Half-Pint Food Critics
Matthew is typically a very good eater and not afraid to try new foods, even vegetables. I was surprised when he dug in his heals over yams on Thanksgiving. I insisted that he have 2 bites. After much face twisting and gagging and threats of "no pumkin treat" he choked them down. These were good yams too! I whipped them up and added a little butter and brown sugar. They were naturally sweet, so I didn't add much. The next day when we had leftovers and I insisted once again that he have a bite. I figured he didn't have to like them (hey, there's certainly foods I don't like) but needed to keep trying them. Just a taste. "Wah hew eat yams, grow big and tall. Reach pumpkin treat." Yes Matthew, if you eat enough yams you will grow big and someday you will reach the pumpkin treat. Reaching the Halloween candy is his current goal in life.

After Matthew's reaction, I shouldn't have been suprised that Melissa would act in kind. I gave her a taste of yams and her whole body spasmed. The look on her face was one of surprise and disgust. This is Not what I expected mom! She also rejects bananas and anything else I've tried to give her. I can't take it personally though, this is the child that will gnaw on shoes and newspaper given half a chance. Come to think of it, perhaps I should surreptitously leave mashed banana on baby spoons on the floor. Maybe it will be more apealing if she forages for it. It's a thought. Matthew didn't eat any solids until 8 months despite my cajoling so this might be what is normal for my kids. At any rate diapers get stinkier once solids are started so I'm not going to push matters too hard just yet.

-Rachel

Matthew inherited his father's vision

No, not the myopia. So far his eyesight is just fine.

But he did inherit Guy Vision.

What is Guy Vision, you ask? Allow me to explain...

Matthew was cleaning his room today, which means Mommy (or, rarely, Daddy) does most of the work. One of the last toys left was a turtle. "Matthew, please pick up the turtle." "Where?" he asked. "Over there," said Mommy, pointing. "Where?" "Over there!" "I can' see [it]!" he said, frustrated.

Mommy took his hand and pointed him to the turtle. "Oh!" and he picked up the turtle.

That is Guy Vision.

As I was writing this, Rachel asked if I'd noticed the newly-cleaned state of Matthew's room. I thought for a bit. "No," I answered, honestly.

That is also Guy Vision.

A peanut's goal in life

Occasionally after finishing his meal, Matthew will be proud of his accomplishment. "[Food] help Wawa det [get] big, strong!" Yes. Good boy.

So for lunch I thought maybe this would provide additional incentive to stop chattering long enough to eat. "Peanut butter sandwich helps Matthew get big and strong!"

"Peanu' bu' san'wich help Wawa det big, strong, reach pumpkin treat?"

Rachel and I laughed. The pumpkin treat is his plastic jack o' lantern full of trick-or-treating candy, kept safely on top of the fridge.

"Yes, son. But that will be many peanut butter sandwiches in the future."

Big boy bed!

So a little over a week ago Rachel finished Matthew's new room (formerly the guest room) and moved him in. He was very excited. Monday he got a twin bed, his "big boy bed." He was even more excited.

Tonight the inevitable happened: Rachel and I heard a thump about 10:00. Rachel went to investigate.

"He was lying on the floor, on top of some hard toys, still asleep."

Apparently Rachel's brother Brian used to fall out of bed and keep right on sleeping, too. Guess it runs in the family.

Melissa's on the move

Melissa has really picked up on the crawling thing. Something clicked on Thursday (the 17) and she's now very fast and coordinated. Of course this was the day I was frantically finishing the painting in the guest bedroom in preparation for my parents arrival. (I had a cousin getting married). I was used to the slow stop and start scouting, with plenty of time to retrive the forbidden before she could grasp it. Now I have to take baby-proofing to the next level. She can cross a room in a matter of seconds.

So it's been a week now of expert crawling, and she's not content. Now she's attempting vertical crawling or climbing. Melissa can now pull herself up to her feet. I predict that it will not be long before she's walking. She's got that same overwhelming desire to be on the move and into things that her older brother had, and he walked at 9 1/2 months. Like him, her sense of self-preservation is nonexistant at the moment, so she'll probably receive many clunks on the head and shins as she learns to coordinate her body better. I'm just glad Jonathan put up that baby gate at the top of the stairs on Saturday.

In other news, we had my parents in town last weekend for my cousin's wedding. My parents attended the wedding which we heard was nice. With Melissa still nursing frequently we opted to just attend the reception that evening. It was at a hall at This is the Place Monument- the same place he proposed to her. Kind of a romantic touch. The reception hall was beautifully decorated and the bride (my cousin) gorgeous, of course. Matthew has been looking forward to Ma' moe and Pawpa coming for weeks. He got to bake cookies with "my Ma' moe" and go to the dinosaur museum (unfortunately he was tired due to lack of a nap and not on his best behavior for the museum). Their visit was short, Dad left Saturday night and Mom Tuesday morning, but Matthew seemed to enjoy what time he had with them. When Grandma left for the airplane, she gave Matthew "Where the Wild Things Are" as a goodbye present. It's currently his favorite book. He even took it with him in the grocery store to read in the cart while I shopped for our Thanksgiving dinner. Some of the other shoppers noted the title and asked him if he liked his book. "Uh huh. Mae' moe give book Wha' hew."

-Rachel

What's that noise?

It was one of those rare occasions where Matthew was amusing himself. Rachel and I were still eating. I think I was having my 7th muffin, or thereabouts, on Saturday morning, while Melissa tried to eat my newspaper. "What's he saying?" Rachel asked. I listened more closely.

"Who's my baby dirl [girl]? Uh huh uh huh uh huh..."

He was singing one of my nonsense Melissa songs. I guess I should be flattered; it's apparently right up there with Happy Birthday and the Witch Song from preschool (which Daddy doesn't know).

My nonsense songs are mostly baby-oriented -- I had nonsense songs for Matthew when he was that age, but they kind of died out. But he felt left out now so I had to make up some more about Matthew the good boy who helps his Dad and is three years old (so much bigger than a baby).

Getting Big!

Friday Jonathan and I took M&M for their 6 month and 3 year checkups. Jonathan also had a physical and meet the doc appointment. Apparently health wasn't the only topic discussed- Jonathan found out our doctor is an avid gamer and they talked about games they both played.

Matthew is now just over 29 lbs and just shy of 3 feet. That puts him in the 40th percentile for height and weight. Not bad for a kid who was in the 3rd percentile for both for a while. That was when he insisted on eating only black beans, yogurt, bananas, and cheerios (he was nursing still, thank goodness or he might have been even smaller). His former doc even sent us for a blood draw and to an endocrinologist just to make sure nothing was wrong - there wasn't, he was just small. Now he proudly announces, "Wha hew Big!" He even corrects his Daddy if Jonathan calls him his 'little man.' "No Dada, Wha hew Big. Baby little."

Melissa weighed in at 15 lbs 10 oz and (if I remember correctly) is 26 inches long. That places her at the 60th percentile for both. She's getting bigger! In a way it's a little sad. I miss the newborn stage. Six-month-olds are such social creatures though, that it has its own pleasures. Since she's my second, I know how fast babyhood goes and it makes me want to hold on to each stage just a little longer. With Matthew I couldn't wait for each developmental milestone. With Melissa, I can wait and just enjoy....

-Rachel

Little pitchers have big ears

(Or is that "little pictures?" Either way it doesn't make much sense, if you ask me.)

Sunday morning it's getting cold--inside. It's not supposed to get cold inside. Cold is for outside. I go to the thermostat; it's 64 with a minimum of 62. I've programmed it to stay at 68 from 7 AM to 11 PM five or six times and it keeps screwing it up.

I manually override it instead of trying to argue with the programming again. I'm a bit peeved. I find Rachel in our bedroom getting ready for church.

"Dear, our thermostat is smoking crack again."

Matthew is listening.

"'Ermsa' smote twack, Dada?"

Crap. I have visions of him telling his 3 yr old friends that his Dad smokes crack.

"I mis-spoke, Matthew. The thermostat is confused."