sun spot

On the drive to Mammy’s house, I adjusted the moon-roof to help get the afternoon sun out of your face. A few miles down the interstate, you asked, “Where’d the sun go, Momma?” I explained it had probably tucked itself away behind one of the gray and gathering clouds. You replied, “Good. It not in mine eyes now.”

inside the box

Daddy brought a wonderful book back for you from his trip to France about a lovable, gingerbread-looking little character named Tchoupi, and you loved it right away. I thought I’d create for you the scene in the book that you linger on–the part where Tchoupi’s Papi turns a cardboard box into a playhouse for the little boy. When we read the story, you comment on the name on the house drawn with a marker. You point out the scissors used to cut the door and window. You notice the flowers on the side of the box-house and point out–each time we read it–that Tchoupi’s little stuffed bear is in the house with him. You were delighted that I made this for you, and it has been your go-to activity of choice–second only to the ever-popular climbing in and out of your crib gymnastics.

hi, mickey mouse

You say some of the funniest things, little bug, as your ever-inquisitive mind works to process all the wonders of the world. Sometimes you realize you’re being funny and laugh with us. Other times, you have no idea and ask me why I’m laughing: “What you laughing at, Momma?”

Recently, you were in your carseat riding back home with me from the East branch library. I was letting you snack on popcorn. Looking back, perhaps not the safest snack to have while buckled on a moving car… I might not win a super-momma award for that move, but thankfully, the story is not about how you choked. (Wait! There are super-momma awards?!)

So you’re snacking away and then start chattering. You’re doing that more and more these days–entertaining yourself and your little play-friends with conversation you initiate. I heard you say “Hi, Mickey Mouse,” several times and asked what you were talking about. Since you only have one book with Mickey and one toy at Mammy’s, I was wondering what made you think to chat about the over-marketed mouse. Popcorn did. You’d found a piece of popcorn that looked like Mickey’s classic ear shape and held it up for me and said matter-of-factly: “Dat one Mickey Mouse.”

That’s funny and creative, little man.

swimming upstream
I made salmon dip from scratch for a healthy Super Bowl party alternative, and you and I were polishing off the leftovers for lunch the day after. I always explain what everything on your plate is, and when I know where it came from or something about how it got to your plate, I tell you. During the rundown of food items, you stopped me at the salmon introduction and repeated it. “Salmon?” you said. “My new guy salmon?”
I didn’t know what had you thinking whipped fish was your friend, so I asked what you meant.
You continued, “My new friend salmon?” Then it finally hit me: You were saying Simeon, your new friend Simeon. Hilarious you heard the similarities in two very different things.

Amother Super Bowl leftover story: We were eating some of the cheese and summer sausage left over from a party tray. You seemed slightly charmed by what we’d called mini-hotdogs and had eaten a couple until you ran into one of the characteristic cartalage-like pieces we jokingly call the knuckle. You grabbed it off your tongue and balanced it on one spit-covered finger to show me. You asked, “What IS dat?! Me no yike dat.” Me no yike dat either, buddy. You’ve since politely declined any further offers of summer sausage.

teddy bear alarm clock

This morning’s alarm clock? “Teddy bear, Teddy bear, under Mammy’s rocking chair. No go there. You will get awful scare. (dramatic pause… wait for it…) Mammy will rock on you tail!” Good morning, little bug!

cook wear