Departmental Report

Let's see...

In the wicked child department:

A pressed the HELP button in an elevator. And then tried to press it two more times even when I told him not to. We're not going to ride the Library Elevators for a few visits.

A has been expressing his anger in a way that makes us think he's been reading Stephen King when we're not looking. Usually this involves him saying, "I want to collapse you, and scrunch you up, and put you into the garbage." Variations include chopping us up and putting us in the compost, and recently he's wanted to set us on fire.

A suggested to M that they save me a piece of chocolate cake; but then somehow A opened the fridge, gobbled most of it up (with some help from M), and then told me about it.



In the music appreciation department:

"The Carnival of the Animals" was playing on the radio. The movement with the chickens started playing and I asked A, "What does the music sound like?" A listened to the music, concentrated, and said, "Violins and pianos."



In the angelic child department:

A went up to one of our friends (whom we were visiting) and asked, "Excuse me; may I please play your piano?" Our friend seemed stunned.

A, M, and a (grown-up) friend went into a store full of glass knick-knacks. Without being told, he put his hands behind his back. The proprietress walked up. M asked A, "What do you see?" A looked around seriously, paused, and said, "Nothing I can touch." The proprietress was taken aback and said, "Well, I wish the twelve-year-old girls with gummi bears could hear you."

A endured a five-hour car ride with no complaining. I think it helped that M played with him during the parts when A was awake.

Photos...

If You're Happy...

A has a cold. So do I. It involves a lot of coughing.

His new thing is to sing, "If you're happy and you know it clap your hands." That's how it starts. It quickly turns into other things like, "clack your blocks!" or "smash your hammer." At least it hasn't gotten to "harass the cat."

I think I'm In for a Long Day

On the plus side, A decided that there was such a thing as "spirit fossils."

On the minus side, instead of placing Play-Dough into its canister, A thought it would be a good idea to pull his diaper away from his backside and drop the Play-Dough into it. Have you ever had to reach into (thankfully otherwise) clean toddler's diaper and pull day-glow green Play-Dough out of the area where solid waste usually is ? The process has a curiously strong sense of cognitive dissonance.