Before the Snow Came...

Confusion

We started sign language with Tesla several months ago in the hopes that it would give him an avenue of communication and therefore help to stave off tantrums.  And in many ways, it has.

(After the excitement of the first few signs wore off, I kinda got lazy.  But that's not important right now.)

One of the signs Tesla has in his arsenal is "hat".  Kind of a useless one, when compared to "please", "more", "food", or "potty", but hey.  He signs "hat" whenever he sees Silas in a beanie, baseball cap, or bandana (which is frequently).

The first time he tried to touch the inside of a 350 degree oven, I exclaimed, "No, Tesla!  Do not touch!  Hot!"

He looked surprised and a little confused by my reaction, and then reached up to pat his head.  "Hat?"

Today, I knew the damage was done when the timer for the oatmeal chocolate chunk cookies went off and he ran excitedly to the oven and stood in front of it, patting his head vigorously.  "Hat!  Hat!  Hat!"

Oh well.  Close enough, right?  

Playtime

The other day, in an attempt to give Tesla more structured play, I brought out some beans.

"This activity is great for tactile and kinesthetic learning!  Your child will love to scoop and pour the beans!"

Well, my child loves to fling them all over the room (do you know how hard it is to find stray pinto beans on berber carpet?) and eat them.  After about eleven repetitions of "No, Tesla, do not eat the beans!" and the thrill of extracting multiple slimy beans from the jaws of a determined one year old, I gave up.

Not wanting my son to miss out on the valuable sensory experience, I substituted cheerios.

He did enjoy scooping them.

But he mostly enjoyed eating them.

And crushing cheerios in his fist like the Incredible Hulk.  There was cereal dust everywhere.



All in the name of learning.

A Curious Phenomenon

A mother can sleep through anything....except babies.

Sometimes....

Sometimes your fifteen month old greets you cheerfully when you go in to get him for breakfast, and you think, "Hey, it might just be a great day!"

And then you sit him in his high chair and he immediately lets out a banshee cry and launches into a massive tantrum.  You try a few times to offer him food but your olive branch is thrust aside and met with the screams of the wounded (ever increasing in pitch, of course).

So you wish for a set of earplugs and pretend to ignore the assault on your eardrums.

It's going to be one of those days.   :)

(After about fifteen minutes he forgave his eggs for whatever crime they had committed and decided to eat them.  Mmm.  Cold, slimy eggs.)

Back by popular demand!

(and by "popular demand", i mean that three people mentioned that i should try to post more than once every few months.)


Hello, friends and lovers!

What's new?  Well, first of all, this.

Which now looks like this.

His name is Desmond Aesop, and he is beloved by all.  Especially this one.

In other news:

Silas has very long hair and a very long mustache.  Pictures to follow if I can convince him.

We are moving to Glendale, Arizona in Julyish, where Silas will be studying Podiatry at Midwestern University.  I have gotten over the fact that our yard will probably consist of cactuses, dirt, and rocks, and am getting really excited.

(p.s.  "Cactuses" is an acceptable plural form of cactus.  I checked.)

My brother Andrew is living in American Fork and we get to see him sometimes and it's awesome.  Plus Tesla adores him.

I am continuing to bake treats at an alarming rate.  I need another outlet.  Badly.  Ideas welcome.

(Crafting is out.  Aside from the fact that I'm not good at it and don't enjoy keeping bits and pieces of supplies around, I break things.  Even really simple things.

Take, for example, the time that Abby generously offered me the use of her sewing machine so that I could hem some cloth diaper inserts that we had cut.  The concept was simple: SEW STRAIGHT LINES.  WITH A MACHINE.  A monkey could do it.  An untrained one, at that.

However,  in the space of about half an hour, I managed to break the needle and jam her machine no less than 6 times.  Abby finally took over and finished the diapers in about 5 minutes.

I do not do crafty things.)


Anyway.

Tonight is pizza night.  I never get tired of pizza.  Ever.  We're making our new favorite, the Mediterranean/Greek pizza which has yet to be christened with a catchy name.  But picture this: the crust is stuffed with feta cheese and sundried tomato pesto, and the middle is brushed with olive oil (and by brushed I mean I smear it on with my fingers), sprinkled with garlic powder, and topped with kalamata olives, artichoke hearts, spinach, and a little mozzarella.

You know that's right.  (Does anyone else watch Psych?  I think Gus is one of my favorite people in the world.)