oliver the map: oliver’s travels

Unwilling, or perhaps unable, to spend another morning in the house with you as you whined from not feeling well or fussed if I moved further than a foot away from you or cried if you got frustrated with a toy or tugged on me if I trained less than 100% of my attention on you… you get the picture. Unable to endure that again, I was determined to distract you, but I couldn’t come up with any ideas. Daddy’s thought was to go for a walk at Shelby Bottoms, and while it has been gray all day, the weather forecast only showed a 20-30% chance of rain, and I thought we could weather those odds. You played on the playground, made a new friend named Kingston who is 18 months old, strolled along the greenway, listened to the trees talk to us and tottered along the trail back to the car. It was in this last adventure that your trippy Crocs toppled you, and you got your first-ever knee scrape. You handled it bravely and did not want to take my hand so I could help you with the rest of the tricky terrain. You are becoming quite the fierce and independent spirit, lil man. I lifted you up to pick a leaf off of a tree that was turning colors, an early reminder that fall creeps nearer. You fell in love with this leaf, playing with it in the backseat, turning it over, giggling, waving it. It was so wonderful to watch.

You visited the Adventure Science Center for the first time yesterday afternoon. Due to your whopping three and a half hour nap, we didn’t get there until a little over an hour before they were set to close, so your momma, being the frugal momma that I am, asked if there was an “hour before closing discount,” and indeed there was. That is really satisfying to me: fun at a discount. We met Sara Jane and her brood there, and before I could even pay, the boys had dragged you by the hand to a room of fun… yards away from me. You never even looked back. You were off to fun with other kids, and you didn’t need me. Not until one of the displays made a loud whooshing noise, then you came running, face contorted with fear, arms stretched out in desperation for me to pick you up quickly to save you from that vicious thing making the noise that was sure to get you. That sounds like an exaggeration, but really it was not. While I’m not sure you learned anything (most of the exhibits are geared for older kids), you were definitely hands-on, and you had a blast. Daddy joined in on the fun, surprising us after a meeting in the area, and both your proud parents got to follow along behind you as you tottered all over the museum exploring.

plus Aunt Dixie, minus Uncle Cal…

Four hours and twenty-five minutes, to be exact; that was Sunday’s nap. You were crazy-tired after Saturday night’s escapades. Daddy and I had a date night, a fundraiser/fun-night-out to help us (mostly me) feel human again. Mammy and Papa watched you, played with you, fed you dinner and put you to bed while Daddy and I sipped margaritas and snacked on tasty appetizers… and checked in on you every half hour or so. We scooped you up when got back to Mammy and Papa’s around 10:30 and set off for home with you still clutching Sleepy Sheepy (aka Lambie Baby) and tucked snug in your sleep sack. En route, the snacky after-effects of the margaritas took over, and I felt called to a late-night Krystal stop. You were very sedate and still zoney, but even in your sleep stupor, you honked down almost half a cheese Krystal and two fries at 11:30pm. Aaaah… your first late-night fast food. These things are important to experience, and I had fun sharing it with you, even if it meant it’d be a little after midnight before you were sleeping soundly again, this time in your own bed with tummy full of a portion of a good ole gut grenade. Except for feeling a little guilty for such a detour on the way to getting you back to bed, I really didn’t mind at all. You were sweet and snuggly, and we were making memories.

You are learning so much these days. You have recently learned to point at things you want; you’ll point your finger at your bottle and grunt for it. (You’ve also learned you can whine or cry when you don’t get what you’ve gestured toward.) You are quite fond of your new ability to put lids or tops on things, not to where they are screwed on and secure, but you can rest them on the jar in the right place awaiting that last step. You’ve recently learned to put smaller objects into a container and take them out again. You’ve learned to stir things with a spoon, to push a car on the floor and to climb up playground steps unassisted. You are still trying to understand why playground steps are okay, but stairs in your dining room home are not. It’s pretty complicated to explain the benefits of the surface cushion of a rubberized playground over hardwood, so I guess you still have some things to learn.

You love to pull the hand towel down from the bar on the dish washer where we hang it to dry. As a joke the other day, I took it and said, “Okay, Oliver, you can help Momma clean and clean,” and I played like I was wiping down the cabinets with the hand towel. Anytime the towel is hanging now, you pull it down, wad it up a bit and begin to dust around the kitchen—floor, walls, the cabinets, your highchair. Apparently, you even do windows! I sure hope we can continue to encourage your early interest in household chores.