Indiana Idylls

  A week or so ago, I got the crazy idea to try forcing forsythia blossoms indoors. Since Alex had been asking to go outside all that week, I told him that we'd go out and do this little project when he woke up from his nap. I didn't read anything about it, just figured I'd lop off some of those overgrown branches and stick the sticks in water indoors and wait for the flowers to -- maybe -- appear. (Those who know me know of my black thumb. Belatedly, I did some reading and was led to believe that this flower thing could take weeks instead of the two days I expected. Yikes!) I told Alex that we were going to try to "make flowers", and warned him that it might not work at all. Little did I know how excited he'd be about this endeavor! He must be getting spring fever, too. When Paul came home that day, the first thing Alex did was take his hand and show him into the dining room where we were "making flowers". Every day Alex has gone to check on th...

Yesterday, I was cleaning up in the bathroom and Alex noticed a ladybug in the toilet. "Get him out, mama." I hadn't noticed the ladybug when I emptied the potty. With visions of tantrums and dirty-toilet insect rescues dancing in my head, I fumbled a few words out about how we were not getting the (probably dead) ladybug out of the potty and then blurted out that the ladybug was just swimming and was happy there in the toilet. This seemed to be a great relief to him, because then Alex went over to wave hello to the ladybug (more visions, like please don't try to kiss the ladybug!), and turned back three or four times on his way out of the bathroom to point to the toilet and talk about the ladybug swimming. By then, I was concerned that flushing said toilet was going to cause a scene, but I just calmly pressed the lever and we went about our day. This made quite an impression on the lad because he's mentioned it several times since in the vicinity of toilets, as...

... you dress your toddler in a short-sleeve shirt (with the intention of layering a sweatshirt over it) and he tugs persistently at the above-the-elbow sleeves as though the sleeves were simply rolled up. We explained that it was just a short-sleeve shirt, but Alex was distressed and asked for long sleeves. Paul had to take his flannel shirt off to show that he was wearing short-sleeves, too, and that Alex was going to wear another shirt on top, just like Dada. Alex had a serious case of The Daddies today, insisting that Paul come to the store with us and generally not wanting to be out of his sight for a moment. Originally, Alex asked for Paul to read him stories, but I hear footsteps on the stairs that would indicate he's changed his mind.

  No baby feet anymore...

We were playing tonight with the paper punches and when Alex got up from my lap he said "Alex loves mama." Woo hoo! He's said it before, but with prompting, and we had just talked this morning about how he could tell me he loves me anytime he wanted. I'm one happy mama.

He's been in undies for nearly a month now, and started napping in undies on Thursday. So far, mostly good. We can do days at a stretch without incident and then change two pairs of pants back-to-back the next day. He LOVES the Abiyoyo books Uncle Mark sent and sings the song all the time. He's been very observant lately. When he was having yogurt for lunch and I decided to have some too, he got really excited. "Mama have yogurt too! Alex have yogurt! Dada, too!" When Paul was getting ready for work one day, Alex noticed they had something in common: "Dada wear sweater. Alex wear sweater, too!" Some book got us talking about noses. I asked where his was and he pointed to it. Then I asked if Mama had a nose. "Yes. Dada too!' "Who else has a nose?" "Gramma." "Who else?" "Unk Oey." "Who else?" "Grampa." You get the idea. Today at Mass, Paul was standing in the back playing bass and at one poi...

Some things I've been meaning to record: Alex can't hold up just two fingers. He can hold up one (his index finger), two (trying to do "thumbs up" is sort of like making a "p" in sign language), or varying degrees of all five. He loves to count. He's very good up to two, most of the time to three, but usually skips over four and goes straight for five, unfolding his hand as he goes. Sometimes, he spontaneously counts items, like when I return from the garage with a favorite treat -- clementines! "Un doo orangies!" He's been pluralizing things lately by adding -ies to everything. I love when he catches me before I put my socks on: "No sockies, mama." It's all rather amusing. Ever since our B&B stay in Texas where there were nearly a dozen cats, kitties have been an object of fascination. He often pretend to be a kitty, and plays in the "kitty house" (when he dives under our sheets or other blankets). If you ask h...