The picture on the block tub in the background is seriously false advertising.  That child did not build that stack.  That child's father built that stack.  That child has only one thought going through her head.  "MUST DESTROY BLOCK STACK!"  I would not be at all surprised to learn that the child in that picture stood up and took her first steps just so she could get more leverage on the stack of blocks.  For this child is my child (in drag).

The Elliott has been pretty fascinated with block tower destruction for quite some time.  I won't kid myself that this is a unique trait.  We went to a birthday party for Weston (#1 Arch Rival of The Elliott) this weekend and he and the boy tag teamed on a helpless stack of blocks with wild abandon.  What is new is that sweet innocent face he's sporting.  I believe he's holding his cheeks down to keep from grinning evilly.  As of this week, every time the Elliott knocks over my stack of blocks, he holds his hands out to his sides, palms up in supplication and says "Oh!?!" as though the most unlikely event has just occurred and it has utterly flabbergasted him with its randomness.  

That's right, at one year and three weeks, even before true speech or standing independently, my child has learned to lie.  

The cackling you hear is my coming from my parents' house.

 

Great Aunt Suz and Uncle Blaine provided us with this amazing feat of modern plastic manipulation.  It has a working waterslide, complete with scary spitting clown head.  It has a dunk tank.  It also has a ferris wheel that turns when you pour water into big orange funnel (mouse over the picture for a helpful diagram).  The Elliott immediately figured out how to use the funnel with absolutely no coaching because he's a genius.

The wonder circus toy also comes with a couple of little plastic kids to ride the ferris wheel, dunk in the dunk tank, and be terrorized by the freaky clown head.  The Elliott has taken a shine to the boy, whom I have dubbed "Walleye" because one of his pupils was BADLY misplaced.  Somewhere in China, a 12-year-old had his pay docked the day Walleye was born.  To add insult to injury, Walleye spends the majority of his day in the Elliott's mouth.  

As you can see, the bathtub, like every other room in the house, is being annexed by the Elliott's ever growing horde.  I fully expect that if his westward progress continues, Sarah and I will be moved onto a reservation in North Dakota with a year.

And speaking of annexation, thanks for ignoring the spreading colony of bare skin driving out the indigenous population on my scalp.  Luckily for the boy, the baldness gene comes from Sarah's side of the family. 

 

 

Back in my day, we had to risk cooties at Chuck E' Cheese to play in a ball pit.  These birthday kids today with their hyperventilation-inducing personal lice farms!  

That's just jealously talking people.  I mean, seriously.  When you pull the tether, the balls fall down on your head!  

It's AWESOME!

Just ask Fantangela!

 

This picture cracks me up for two reasons: 

1) Elliott makes his Grandpa look like one of the little people.

2) Elliott bears a striking resemblance to Howdy Doody.

We had a good visit with Sarah's Dad this week.  He was a lovely house-guest.  My favorite part was when he did a load of laundry in our absence.  He was fascinated, and perhaps a little frightened, by our high-tech washing machine, which spins clothes at near-sonic speeds to dry them out.  He was fairly convinced that he had broken it as it went into it's final jet-engine-esque cycle.  I hear he grunted a lot and beat it with a stick until it stopped. 

But that's not why I'm posting tonight.  Tonight is Friday night, and for the first time in months, the Peanut Gallery has spoken and we actually have letters!  But before you read on, here's a little fun fact for you.  Apparently, the concept of the "Peanut Gallery" comes from the Howdy Doody Show!  

On August 3, Meg wrote:

Oh my goodness, Mr. E., you're almost one year old! No doubt you'll be getting a landslide of fan mail in the next week--I hope we're one of the first to wish you a happy birthday. Care to share your birthday list with
us? Current (or anticipated) size in shoes, jackets, dungarees? Favorite kinds of toys or books? Estimated date of birthday party? Inquiring minds want to know!

I guess we missed the window to hit everybody up for stuff.  The Elliott is just happy to be here.  Well, just in case, he's wearing 2T and he like things that play music when he presses buttons.  

On August 10, Meg wrote:

Hey Elliott, you must really be wearing your webmaster down…I haven’t had any fresh news for weeks, and I thought surely on this momentous day he would rise to the occasion. Anyway, we have a couple of tasty items for you on your birthday, one of which will arrive, courtesy Walmart, soon. Batteries not included. Mmwah-ha-ha! Happy Birthday!

It's not so much that he was wearing me down, it's just that it stays light really late, and it's hard to justify hiding in the basement unless Sarah wants to watch "So You Think You Can Dance."  Elliott likes tasty items, especially those requiring batteries.  I'm a little stunned you shopped at Walmart, though.  Some hippie you are.  Looking forward to the loot.  Thanks!

On August 11, Meg wrote:

Looks like your dad is back online, so I'll stop worrying. Actually, I never
met a one year old who *didn't* like salmon the first time they tried it (or
cared particularly for their first cupcake). So how do you like the world
facing frontwards (since you've obviously passed the 20 lbs criterium,
there's now nothing preventing you from riding in a car like a big boy)?
Love, your aunt

Why can't people just accept that my son is "special" and does things no other baby does or has ever done?  Jealousy is tearing this country apart!  We are turning the boy around tomorrow.  We'll see if that makes car rides something other than a reason to sleep.

So as you can see, my sister is the Elliott's entire Peanut Gallery!  At NBC you had to wait YEARS to get in, so you'd all best write in before this becomes the next hot ticket.

Have a lovely weekend!

 

 

It happened.  As hard as we tried, we could not prevent August 10th from coming and the Elliott, against all pleading, became a one-year-old.  We must now admit that he will not be a baby forever.  In fact, I don't think we can consider him a baby now since he's literally off the height chart, and about 7 lbs heavier than your average kid at one year.  He also doesn't do regular baby things.  For instance, tonight he ate a good portion of a salmon fillet.  What baby have you ever met that liked salmon?  He didn't actually think much of his birthday cupcake, aside from its artistic potential.  Elliott!  It's made of SUGAR and CHOCOLATE, for crying out loud!  He did eat two whole pork ribs that night, though.  In fact, so far he hasn't met a flesh he hasn't liked, which in case you weren't aware is contrary to every baby book ever written.  Woe betide our pet house rabbit when the Elliott finds out he's made of meat.  Actually, we're OK if you eat the damn rabbit.  House rabbits are overrated.

But back to the central point.  Our son can now declare his age in one syllable!  He hasn't yet, although we've convinced ourselves he knows and can verbalize which one of us is "Mama" and which one of us is "Dada."  He's trying very hard to say "Va Va Va Voom!" because Dada is funny when he says it and every future world leader needs a catch phrase.

He likes hanging out in the kitchen with Mama.  He likes hanging out with Dada, unless Dada wants him to hang out, in which case he likes hanging out in the kitchen with Mama.

He had his one-year check-up yesterday (yes, he got shots ON his birthday) where we got some devastating news.  We currently give him about 40 oz. of formula each day.  Turns out that's about 16 oz. (two bottles) too much.  We have been instructed to terminate the morning bottle and the bedtime bottle.  We tried tonight.  We'll try again tomorrow.  I challenge you to tell a Gargantua that his favorite thing will now be eliminated from his life.  Once he realizes that we're serious, August 10, 2005 will be a day that will live in infamy.  

Welcome to toddlerhood son.  Don't look at us like that.  We tried to stop you.