Odds and ends about my little friend.

I'm still in my pajamas and my Breathe Right strip is still on my nose. I hope this doesn't sound like a dig at the whole being-a-mom thing, but this right here, this half hour between 6:30 and 7:00 AM, might just be my favorite time of the day. It's dark, quiet, and I'm only just launching in on my daily coffee allowance (instead of guiltily drinking my third-and-a-halfth cup at 2 PM). The only sounds in the house are the hum of the fridge and the purr of the furnace.

Will hit a new stage about a week ago, and in retrospect it perfectly aligned with the day he started calling me "Mommy," which means he's totally growing up, right? His awareness/intelligence/whatever has increased, which makes him much more hilarious and affectionate, and also much more naughty! 

Whereas at bedtime two weeks ago, I'd slip him into his crib, cover him up, tell him I love him and walk smugly back downstairs as he drifted off to sleep with nary a peep, nighttime LATELY has been different. I hold him, pray for him, and then as I lift him into bed (anxiously anticipating the moment I'll finally be able to relieve my arms of the 30-lb squirming fish I've been hefting around all day), he clings tight to my neck. 

"Chair," he whispers, pointing with one free hand to the rocking chair.

"No, we're not sitting in the chair, we're going to lay down and go to sleep."

"Bup," he then tries, making his sign for water and pointing to the bathroom. He wants a drink.

"Okay, buddy, you can have some water, and then it's time for bed." Said 30-lb fish is hefted to the bathroom and gotten a cup of water, which he absolutely doesn't need since he has drunk a gallon of his bath.

Back in the room, he whispers, "Moon," and makes his sign for book, which means he wants to read Goodnight Moon. 

"No, honey, we can read that tomorrow," I say apologetically. My brain is all, he's almost there! The party (aka crashing onto the couch and not moving for fifteen minutes) is about to begin!

The tender prayer resumes and I give him one more big hug. "I love you," I say. For the FIRST TIME ALL DAY, my 30-lb dead-weight fish is now a clinging monkey. I detach him limb by limb and lay him down, where he arches his back on all fours like an angry cat, raising one arm toward me in a command to PICK ME UP RIGHT NOW.

I finally get him to lay down, I cover him up, and beam it out of the room.

Two seconds out his door, and the wailing commences.

Last night I was so tired I just ignored it and walked downstairs, crashing on the couch as I'd been faithfully promising myself I'd do. "Brian, Will is crying," I said, all huffy-like.

He walked patiently upstairs and within a minute was back, and silence reigned in the house. "You just need to tell him what to do," he instructed with the wisdom of Solomon.

Oh. DUH.

Anyway, Will's discovered he can manipulate me with kisses and hugs and I have to admit, it kind of works. The other day he climbed onto the arm of the couch and I was sitting there reading to him. He coolly reached out and started playing with the lamp shade on the coffee table. "Hey!" I said in shock. "You know you're not supposed to touch the lamp!" 

He turned to me with - I kid you not - a patronizing smile. He said, "Mommy," and leaned over and wrapped his arms around my neck, and gave me two kisses on my cheek. "Mommy," he said again, patting my back. And then he reached out to touch the lamp again! "Hey!!!"

But with the naughtiness is hilariousness to the max. I just can't wait for him to be more verbal - it's just going to add an entirely new layer to his goofiness. He loves checking himself out in a mirror, kissing his reflection, saying all the words he knows, and dancing to no music because he loves the way he looks doing it. Bonus points if he's undressed and can flaunt his belly button.

He's also mastered, "No." Not in a defiant way, because I will definitely not allow that (I mean it!), but in answer to all my questions. "Are you done with your Play-Dough?" "Are you done with your juice?" "Do you want to go poo-poo?" ...are all met with a casually-said, drawn-out, "Nooo!" as in, "You're crazy, girl!" I have to re-teach myself to not frame instructions as a question. "Do you want to go take a bath and lay down?" must now be, "Let's go take a bath and lay down." Otherwise, I know what his answer will be!

He loves his instruments. When it's time for family worship, he eagerly runs to grab his tambourine. He doesn't play it during the songs, of course (!), just sets it on the floor and picks it back up several times, but he likes to start banging away on it as soon as we start praying. His favorite Christmas gift was his xylophone. It's a bit old for him, but I keep an eye while he plays it and try to make sure the mallets are not used for other purposes, like whacking the oven door. (This is the one we went with, and it's awesome: http://www.amazon.com/Hohner-Kids-Glockenspiel-Xylophone-Songbook/dp/B000QJ02Q2/ref=pd_cp_MI_0). He also has a kazoo, harmonica, squeaky "horn", maraca, and a recorder, and it's so funny to see him pick out different ones to play along with Pandora or the radio when I turn any kind of music on. Oh yeah, and Brian put a grunt call in his instrument basket too, so sometimes he picks that up.

I can't keep going all day. Okay, I guess I could as far as material goes, but not time. One more. 

He's also into "UH-OH!" Accidentally dropped food from the high-chair? Got crumbs on his hands? PURPOSELY dropped food from the high-chair? Purposely dismantled his toys AGAIN? Touched the lamp shade? Poured his juice all over the floor from his sippy-cup, one drop at a time? "Uh-oh!" ...followed up by an explanation in gibberish of what happened, accompanied by hand movements to illustrate the events. He's not very verbal yet. He know a good handful of words (though a lot of them sound alike - apple, hippo, bubbles, and Bible are all "Bopple") but he's very, very talkative. He also understands WAY more than he can say. I'm continually impressed when I give him a fairly complex command ("if you're done with your Play-Dough, go pick up your roller from the table and bring it to mommy") and he can follow it. I know his baby talk won't last forever, so I'm enjoying it very much.

Alrighty then. Enough about Will.

Hey! By the way. You should try these pancakes. Will is a fairly skeptical eater when it comes to me masquerading certain foods as other foods (for example, banana pancakes and cauliflower pizza are not huge hits) but he loves these Sweet Potato Pancakes by Canada Girl Eats Paleo. I've made them with leftover squash, too, and I always add frozen blueberries. If I only have all-purpose flour around, I'll use that, because really it's only a tablespoon. Finally, I add a pinch of salt and sometimes a little bit of honey if my sweet potatoes aren't very sweet. I blend it all up in my Magic Bullet and it makes a quick and healthy breakfast for the two of us. Try it sometime! Even Brian thought they tasted decently like real pancakes.

Well, the sky is lightening and it's time to me to go get dressed. Have you ever noticed how much more motivated and inspired you feel when you're dressed for the day? Too bad it's not very fun to get dolled up right now - more like wrapped and bound with this big belly of mine. But my coffee is depleted, my dinner needs to get started, and there's BABY STUFF to do. So, Favorite Hour of the Day, we will meet again tomorrow. Until then, I will hang out with my fabulous kid. 

Only hopefully not at two in the morning.