I've been boycotting Friday posts because the letters dried up (I've been very nearly boycotting Saturday through Thursday because I'm lazy).  But we've had a major breakthrough with the boy today and I just can't shut up about it.  Just ask my poor coworkers.

This morning, Gargantua SPOKE!  Yee Haw!

We've been signing with him for several months, not religiously mind you, but at least Unitarianly.  The Elliott had the flu Wednesday and Thursday, and was on a strict diet of Pedialyte and Cheerios, so by this morning he was pretty starved for solid food.  As I was changing his diaper he looked me straight in the eye and very purposefully tapped his lips with the gathered fingers on his right hand.  This wasn't his first shot at "eat," but it was by far the most deliberate and accurate.  

"OK, buddy, let me finish the diaper and we'll go eat." said I, continuing my diaper project.

Brief pause.  Tap tap tap.

"I heard you, son.  We are mere seconds from food."

Brief pause.  Slightly exasperated glare. Very, very slow, careful tap, tap, tap.

"I'm zipping up your clothes, and then it's food time.  I swear."

You could see his thoughts.  "I haven't seriously eaten in two days.  I normally eat seriously every day... several times daily.  I am busting out the BEST SIGNING I'VE EVER DONE and I am not eating yet.  What do I have to do for you to make you feed me?  I'd like to speak to the manager?!?  Oh, maybe I'm using the wrong sign.  How about this?"

Then he brought his hands together at the fingertips (the 'more' sign) and asked out loud "Mo?"

I'm pretty sure he now thinks "mo" means "Dad, would you freak out and dance in a circle?"

 

 

Our hosts James and Dylan just sent us a CD full of pictures from last May.   It's funny because I keep thinking the Elliott has only just begun to show true character, but every time I look at the past year worth of pictures, he's been full of personality right from the words "Lord!  Look at the size of him!" (Actual first words uttered by our OB/GYN during the C-section)

The other thing that struck me about this batch of pics was that every expression would be right at home on the face of a FOX News political pundit.  I don't condone it, but it's undeniable.

Observe:

Welcome to my new show, "I'm Right, You're Left."

Hmmm.  "Interesting" point.

You're out of order!

Global warming.  God's plan or scientific poppycock?  You!  Speak now!

I'm RIGHT!

Fascinating, isn't it?  

 

The Elliott hasn't had a ton of exposure to dogs.  Sarah is mildly allergic and we're not home enough to do a dog justice.  Until recently, the boy has been a stationary target for what dogs he has encountered, mostly Seamus and Sylvie, my parents' airedale terriers.   Encounters have mostly consisted of the dog coming within 10 feet of our precioussss and either Sarah or me chanting "Seamuuuuuuuuuuus.  Gentllllllle.  Seamus!  Sylvie!  SEAMUS!  SYLVIE!  Dad!  Please!

Of course now that he's self-propelled (my son, not my father, although he gets around too) it's a whole new ball game.  Seamus went gently unto that good night at first, perhaps hoping if he lay very still, it might go away.   When it didn't go away, he decided to inform it that only limited baby fondling would be tolerated, which seemed to surprise the boy.  Sylvie's tongue in his ear must have also been a bit surprising.  Overall, a successful interaction, in which the boy didn't yank anything off and came away with all digits.  A good time was had by both.  Seamus even tolerated a game of London Bridge, but then he was all done.

Fresh off this triumphant hunting expedition, last weekend our canine conqueror tried his hand at a Chihuahua named Sammy.  Sammy was a little more forward, but our son is still bifocal, biaural, and base ten, so we'll call it a success.

Are we ready to get a dog?  I'm a maybe.  Sarah is a no way.  That might change someday, but first we must resolve the age-old Seamus-size vs. Sammy-size conundrum.  One guess who wants which.  Then we need to decide if we can be good dog owners, which would mean more land and free time.  The key, of course, will be when the boy learns the phrase "Mom, can we get a dog?"  

 

 

Yesterday, Isla, #1 Cousinette of the Elliott, arrived at her own 1st Birthday.  This picture is actually from a couple of months ago, but since the Isla is a second child I have to hoard her pictures carefully and ration them out.  Seen here, she has just devoured a live chicken, beak and all.  

Isla is the antithesis of the Elliott.  She is VERY vocal, she's petite and delicate, she's WALKING already, and she has about as much hair her uncle, (whereas the boy has now exceeded his father's follicle count.  I checked).

Unfortunately, we haven't seen nearly enough of her, because we rarely get up to Seattle for family gatherings and her Mom and Dad actually do stuff with their children other than laying around on the floor giving them Zrrbts and congratulating themselves on a genetic job well done.  Rumor has it, sometime in the relatively near future, she and her family might move lodging in our general direction, which would be wonderful for us and even more so for the Elliott.

The Management wishes to express its warmest regards to the Isla and her entourage on this second most joyous day of days, and apply them retroactively to yesterday as well.  Since the Isla is a second child, it seemed cruel to actually put up her birthday greeting ON her birthday.  It would set her up for false hopes and expectations for the future, and I can't bring myself to expose her to that kind of disappointment.

Happy Birthday from all of us, second most cute baby ever!