Big kids

Like most toddlers, Owen is fascinated with big kids. Kids any age older than him - even Carlo who is about 3 months older than Owen - are fascinating. The thing about most kids, though, is that they don't stop to let Owen check them out, play with them how he wants. They run around and play on their own terms, as kids do. The triplets came over with Jenn on Thursday and Owen was in heaven. After about two hours of running around after them, he was so exhausted he actually grabbed Keith's hand and walked into the bedroom. He slept like a log.

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Owen and I have a Saturday-morning routine while Keith bikes: we get up, walk to Cinnamon Productions and have breakfast, then walk around the neighborhood for about 2 hours and enjoy being outside. Owen's favorite thing to do is to play with these copper statues of kids right around the restaurant. There are four different statues: one is of a father reading to two kids while sitting on a bench. The other is of two girls, one sitting on a fence holding a bouquet, the other sitting on the ground handing the other girl a flower. The third is of three boys chasing a wheel, and the fourth is of three copper statues playing hide-and-seek around some planters near another restaurant. In all cases, the kids in the statues are between 6-10 years old.

The great part is that the are life-sized, so Owen can pretend to play with them. He loves hugging them, touching their faces, high-fiving them, and sitting on the laps of the ones that are seated. Invariably he spends about 30-45 minutes every Saturday playing with the sculptures. It's adorable to watch because I know that he loves having that time with the big kids where they are suspended in motion, playing and having fun, but where Owen sees them stopped in time and can check out their faces, their hands, pretend to join in. I'm curious to know when he starts ignoring these statues and starts watching girls instead.

Boo!

I realize I'm a crappy blogger. I can blame Facebook somewhat, and also working full-time, and having a toddler, and the holidays, and trying to cook more, and getting into baking. And being obsessed with Season 1 Heroes after Owen is in bed. But I do have a few stories to share lately, so that should make for a few blog entries. I always say I'll try to be better - mostly for my sister because I think she and Jenn and Steph are the only people who read this blog (certainly Keith hasn't read it in months).

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Owen has this adorable habit lately of being unable to resist saying "boo!" when you pull his shirt over his head. When he's happy and willing to get dressed, he says "boo!" when his head pops out of the shirt.

The funniest part about it, though, is that he really can't help himself. I think it's a way he can make getting dressed fun, and I admire his if-you-can't-beat-'em-join-'em attitude because about 80% of the time he isn't happy to get dressed. The other morning he was really mad at me for interrupting his playing to get him dressed for school. He was screaming at me, swinging at me, just really pissed off. I pulled his shirt over his head and while he was hidden he was screaming at me, but when his head pulled through he said "boo!" as though it's hard-wired. Then he went back to screaming at me.

Yesterday morning while I was dressing him he bonked his hand on the dresser when he was playing with a toy and said "Oww!" and cried a bit because his hand hurt, but as soon as his head popped out of the shirt he said "Boo!". I love it.

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This morning, as usual, Owen was waking up before Keith or I were and when I opened my eyes he was looking at me and said softly, "Boo."

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I seriously wish I had a video camera going full-time, these moments are just the best.

Work for your greens

The other night, we were sitting down for dinner - Keith had situated Owen in the highchair (that we've started using again after the booster proved to be too messy) and I was finishing up putting the food on the plates. As usual, we asked Owen if he wanted what we were serving for dinner - mostly we do this to prime him so he's looking foward to what's coming, but also because we know that he's pretty firm in his opinions, and there is no use serving him something he doesn't want to eat. It's better to find out before putting a nice dinner on a plate for him that his ultimate plan for it is really just to give it to the cat or drop it in his milk.

He's been on a broccoli kick lately, and so we've been giving him broccoli whenever we can, enjoying watching him eat it while it lasts, until he refuses everything but Chicken McNuggest (yes, Erin, I do know that day is looming). So, when asked, he said "Yeah. Beebee!" meaning, yes, he wanted broccoli.

But of course, it took me a little while because the broccoli was just done, so it was a blazing inferno of molten goodness and had to cool. Owen wasn't in the mood to wait, so he started fussing. Keith said to him, "Owen do you want your broccoli?" Owen said, "Yes". Keith said, "Well, if you want your broccoli, you need to calm down."

It was almost like all motion halted in our condo - we kind of stopped and listened to the reverberation of the last sentence as it bounced off the walls and echoed in our ears. I think we both simultaneously wondered how often that combination of words is ever put together for a 20-month-old, and then we immediately thanked whatever force in the universe was responsible for our son actually liking broccoli, even for just a little while. The kid eats something green sometimes. For that, I give thanks.

(It really helps make me feel better on those far-more-numerous nights when all he eats is Goldfish crackers and milk).