Oy! That head!

As soon as one mark begins to fade, another takes its place. Bruises. Gashes. Scrapes. They all find their way to Conal’s head. And, usually, they land in prominent spots on his forehead.

He fell at Jer and Darci’s house on Saturday and it was one of his worst falls ever. I thought that last horrible bang-up was his worst ever. I was wrong. This one topped it. And, unfortunately, I imagine that there will be others that will top even this one.

The short story: He ran. He fell. He smacked his head on the corner of the wall. He cried out. I picked him up. He cried out so hard that he stopped breathing and turned blue. His head swelled. He started breathing. He calmed down. Aunt Darci took him to look for cats. He was all better.

But the gash remains.

Take a look — it’s a beauty . . .

 

Sea lions.

Some kids have imaginary friends. Conal has imaginary sea lions. He pushes them in the stroller. Feeds them treats that he picks from the cherry tree. He tells me that they are putting balls on their noses. He also names them. Today, one of his sea lions was named A-Rod.

Well, there you go. A-Rod the sea lion.Who knows what the sea lions will be called tomorrow? Melky? Derek? I guess we’ll wait and see what strikes his fancy.

 

At least he’s neat about it.

Apparently, Conal didn’t go for his lunch today. So this is what he left behind*:

Yes, I gave him the heel of the loaf. But there were only two pieces left, so he got what he got. And I got some modern art.

* He ended up eating the rest of the sandwich when he declared that he was hungry before going up for his nap. Stall tactic? Perhaps, but he probably was hungry — two bites doesn’t usually fill his belly!

 

Busy!

It’s true that I “stay at home” with Conal, but it seems that we don’t do all that much staying at home. I like to make sure that he has plenty of time with other kids so I belong to two moms groups through which we’ve both made some great friends. We usually have a playdate or two each week through those groups, which is nice (this week we went to the Saratoga Children’s Museum). And, of course, we have the twice a week speech sessions with Miss Lynn, who Conal has tons of fun with.

But sometimes a kid needs more. So, to satisfy my little athlete, I’ve signed him up for gymnastics class. The session started on Monday and it was terrific! Conal loved it. He walked on the balance beams, jumped on the trampoline, hung and swung on the high bars and parallel bars, crawled through the tunnel, jumped on the stars and somersaulted his way across the mats.

To balance out the athletics, I also signed him up for a science class on Wednesdays at CMOST. The first class was all about bubbles and next week he’ll explore colors.

What fun for a two-year-old!

And what tiring days for a mom. TGIF!

 

What happened to four?

Conal does a great job counting to 13 except for one thing: He skips four. Almost every time.

I’ve asked him, “What happened to four? You forgot four.”

He responds, “Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. THIRTEEN! YAY!” And then he claps and smiles. But no four. Four is out of the picture. What does the little jobber have against four?

Who knows? He just doesn’t go for it. But, he loves thirteen.

 

Two years.

One hour.

Two days.

Two weeks.

Two months.

One year.

And today, the Little Jobber turns two. Two years.

Smiling for the camera is no longer a given:

But “funny” faces are almost guaranteed:

He’s fun. And funny.

The best little two-year-old we could ask for.

 

Copycat.

Conal has become a copycat.

Maddie was here this morning and whatever she did, Conal had to do, too.

If Maddie went in the ball pit, Conal had to go in the ball pit. If Maddie asked for Cheerios, Conal asked for Cheerios. If Maddie picked up a golf club, Conal picked up a golf club. If Maddie asked for her blanket, Conal asked for his blanket. If Maddie sat down, Conal had to sit down. If Maddie started up the stairs, Conal followed.

You get the picture.

He was very cute doing it, too. He would watch Maddie do whatever she was doing, and then he’d make the decision to do it, too. It was almost as if I could see a “Yes, that seems like a very good idea!” look pass over his face.

Copycat Conal.

 

Bathing beauty.

Actually . . . I wouldn’t categorize our recent bathtime routine as beautiful. But, compared to the tough times about two weeks ago, it’s terrific.

Conal is bathing again. He refused for a bit earlier this month so we worked on making bathtime Really! Fun! And! Not! A! Big! Deal!

It worked. He’s bathing again. Granted, he won’t sit in the bath but he does stand. And squat down. And he allows me to lather him up without crying. So, yeah, progress.

 

Nonsense!

I guess toddlers aren’t necessarily supposed to make sense, yet I still try to understand the Little Jobber’s nonsensical actions. And nonsensical they are!

To wit: The Little Jobber hates having messy hands and requires that they are wiped clean as soon as they are soiled by crumbs, ink, mud, snow, water, butter or any other ickiness. But he does not mind having a messy bottom. In fact, he hates having his diaper changed.

Until last week, he loved taking a bath. He now refuses. Folds himself up origami-style to avoid any contact whatsoever with the bath and bathwater.

He loves broccoli and peas but won’t eat burgers or fries. (How un-American, I know!)

He doesn’t make sense. Not at all.

 

Here’s a bad idea for you.

Let’s say the cable guy comes to your house one afternoon. Maybe around 12:30, just after you’ve put your toddler down for a nap. All doesn’t go well so the guy ends up working on the cable problem much long than expected. By 3, your toddler is awake and the cable guy is still in your house.

Finally, the guy finishes up, telling you that the channel-specific problem is still a problem but one that someone else will have to correct. And then he leaves.

You and your toddler settle in to the playroom to put some puzzles together when the cable guy returns. He has more work to do. As he does, you get a whiff of your toddler and determine that a very smelly diaper needs to be changed. You tell the cable guy that you have to go upstairs to change the diaper and you do.

Your toddler, of course, wants nothing to do with having his diaper changed. Unfortunately, it can’t wait, as you quickly learn when you notice that not only is the diaper very smelly but it has leaked. All over your toddlers pants. And up his belly on to his shirt.

At this point, your restless toddler starts to squirm. Since all of his clothes are now dirty, you need to take them off. Not an east feat when you are dealing with a squirmer and you are self-conscious about his crying with the cable guy downstairs.

You get serious. Your toddler fights you. The wipes prove to be no match for the mess. The situation calls for a complete strip-down and bath. Again, your toddler fights you. As you struggle to get your toddler’s shirt off without getting any of the mess on the floor or your clothes, the cable guy begins to call for you. You hold your half-naked toddler at arms’ length and answer him. He tells you you’re all set and then starts to explain something or other but then he looks up to see that you are, indeed, holding a half-naked toddler and so he says he’ll just be going.

He leaves. You hustle your toddler into the bath. He screams. You want to, but don’t.

In the end, what should have been a 3 minute diaper change turns into a 15 minute episode. And a very, very bad idea.