Christmas 2006, Part 3

I think I can wring one more post out of my cache of Christmas pictures before we get to the actual present opening.

"Future Rock Star" and "Born to be Cute" humor their elders by posing in front of the tree.

My (Ginger's) good friend from high school, Peter Johnson, and his lovely wife and daughter, Laura and Leah, came over for a visit.   Although this was the first time we'd met Leah, we felt like we already knew her from keeping up with her blog.  We're all laughing because getting this picture had been a bit challenging, to  say the least. 

Aunt Mimi reads what is obviously a hilarious book to Walt and Collier. 

I guess this one's a little more serious.

Next up . . . presents!!

Christmas 2006, Part 2

Gram always has a few tricks up her sleeve, and this particular morning, it was a baking lesson.  After all, 'tis the season for making cookies!

First, the boys stir up the batter . . .

They were having so much fun, they almost forgot the eggs, but Gram came to the rescue.

Next, we roll out the dough using a little teamwork . . .

cut out the cookies . . .

and add the sprinkles!

Finally, the boys enjoy the fruits of their labor . . . a "W" cookie for Walt and a "C" for Collier (courtesy of Aunt Mimi).

And speaking of Aunt Mimi, here she is showing off the red-headed cookie Walt made especially for his Daddy.

Let's just hope that the cookie doesn't have any voodoo-type powers because, as you'll notice if you look carefully, the Daddy cookie's arm fell off and became fused to its leg during the baking process.  That type of injury would surely hinder Josh's marathon training.

Christmas 2006, Part 1

In the interest of getting as many posts as possible out of the oodles of pictures we took over Christmas, I'm going to break the Christmas account up a bit.  First up, Christmas Eve Eve (aka, Dec. 23rd) at Gram and Deedaddy's.

The boys enjoy a bit of breakfast . . .

. . . but pause for their close-up.

Walt and Collier both have a long way to go before they can top Deedaddy's hairdo (and, yes, it took him all night to get it like that . . . bada-bum).

Stay tuned for the next installment . . . "Baking with Gram"!

(Self-Inflicted) Retribution

Yes, this picture is a few months old, but trust me when I tell you that it's relevant to this story.

Okay, I know that in my last post, I said that there would be no more posts until after Christmas, so probably no one is reading this anyway, but I just have to record this for posterity because it made me absolutely cry with laughter. 

We're over at the Lareaus' house for dinner tonight -- just a spur of the moment thing before we all departed for our respective holiday trips.  The adults are eating and the kiddos are running around the table, having eaten very little besides bread (Walt) and green beans (Mer).  Because we think it's cute and funny when he does it, we instruct Walt to go give Meredith (his beloved Mow-Mow) a hug.  Usually he will do this with no problem and we all coo over how cute it is and how we'll be talking about these moments at their wedding rehearsal. 

This time, however, Walty had other plans.  As described in the last post, Walt has taken a bit of a turn for the worse in the behavior department as of late, and his previously unblemished record is now spotted with a few unprovoked hits and some gratuitous toy-throwing at school.  Tonight, he decided to add pushing to his rap sheet. 

Before we knew it, Meredith was on the floor crying and Walt was looking tres guilty.  We went through the usual "bad behavior" mantra, made him apologize (unconvincingly) to Meredith and just generally gave him down the road for being so mean to such a sweet, stylish (she was sporting some rockin' blue jeans) little girl. 

Walt, not used to being on the business end of the scorn of four adults he loves dearly, thinks fast.  And this, dear readers, is the image that will probably be one of the ones that flashes before my eyes in my dying moments.  He positions himself in front of Meredith, somehow shoves himself violently in the chest and falls into a heap in the floor.  I know that it is not as hilarious when you didn't see it with your own eyes, but trust me when I say that  it was easily the crowning comic achievement of Walt's young life.

"Are we even now, Mow-Mow?  Wanna stop crying, huh?"

Heaven help me, I do love this kid.

23 Months, or "Our Little Walty is Changing"

The title of this post is a direct quote from Walt's teacher at school.  Given that her previous comments had always been about how sweet and easygoing he is, and how she wants her next child to be just like him, this particular assertion definitely got my attention. 

"Uh oh, what did he do?"

She went on to tell me that it wasn't anything in particular -- he just seemed to be a little more "rambunctious" than he used to be. 

Getting rambunctious with Evie.

And truth be told, we've been noticing a bit of that ourselves.  It's as if he's finally realized that he has the power to exert his little will on the world.  And although he's not too sure what his will is, he's pretty certain that it's not the same as ours.

"Walty, would you like a hot fudge sundae?"

"Mo."  (His version of "no", always accompanied by much head shaking.)

"How about a basketful of cuddly kittens?"

"Mo."

"Perhaps I could interest you in a shopping spree at Toys 'R Us?"

"Mo."

"Then maybe an all-expenses paid tour of every theme park in America?"

"Cark?"

Okay, so he's still agreeable to some things, like outings to the park, eating cookies, watching contruction equipment, and playing with balls.  Any kind of ball.  We currently have floating around our living/dining room three footballs ("fuh-bah!") of varying sizes, two soccer balls ("hawker-gaw"), a basketball ("tah-kee-go" -- yeah, I don't get it either), a baseball and a four square ball (neither of which are ever referred to by name).

These two pictures were taken approximately one second apart.  I'm not sure what exactly happened, but one second he was standing there posing for the camera, and the next he was flat on his back and the ball was bouncing perilously close to the Christmas tree. 

And he is always up for a pick-up game.  However, consistent with the aforementioned contrariness, you can never be quite sure of the rules of the game despite his attempts to coach you by pushing at your knees to move you into proper position.  Even if you think you're starting to catch on, the game can change with no notice and you will be unable to please the coach, prompting a dramatic face-down flinging of the toddler body to the floor.  There are rarely hysterics associated with the flinging.  He seems to feel that, in those instances, actions speak louder than words.  Sheesh.

But speaking of words, Walt is using a lot of them these days, even speaking in short sentences with increasing frequency (though you need a fairly good command of "Waltese" to understand them).  Everyday he surprises me with the things that come out of his mouth.  Things like,

"Dat hut Wah." (Translation: That hurt Walt.  Exclaimed in response to my apparently too-vigorous cleaning of his peanut-butter covered hands.)

"Puh [un-transcribable gutteral sound] in Mommy cot?" (Translation:  Put shoes in Mommy's closet?  Asked as he picked up the shoes I'd left in the middle of the bedroom floor and transported them to my closet.  Yes, I am a bit embarassed that my not-quite-two-year old is picking up after me.)

"Dat bah bee-haver." (Translation:  That's bad behavior.  Phrase I make him repeat after each of his many transgressions throughout the day.  I'm not sure my repitition technique is having much effect.)

Despite the new challenges of his rapidly approaching two-ness, we're still having tons of fun with Walt and feel like the luckiest parents in the world to have such a great kid. 

Since you and I both know that this will be the last post until after we return from our holiday journeys, please accept our most sincere wishes for a very Merry Christmas for you and yours.  (I'll save the "Happy New Year" for the next post!) 

A Saturday Adventure

Despite the fact that weekends are supposed to be for resting and relaxing (at least that's the impression I was once under), it seems that when I look at my calendar these days, Saturday is just as full as your average Tuesday.  Sure, the things that happen on Saturdays tend to be a little more on the fun side, but they are still "plans" that require us to keep an eye on our watches throughout the day. 

But every now and then, I crack open my calendar (got it free next to the cash register at the Hallmark store) and Josh boots up his Palm Pilot (decidedly not free), and we discover that no one expects us to be anywhere that day.  Those days are few and far between, to be sure, but this past Saturday just happened to be one of them.  Ah, sweet freedom!

But what to do?  It's not like we're just going to sit around the house all day, or do something productive like rake the leaves (again).  The obvious answer?  Road trip!  Personally, I have very fond memories of the Saturdays when my parents (Gram and DeeDaddy) would pack us all up in the Melody Singers van* and set out for horizons unknown . . . well, to us kiddos anyway.   One of our favorite destinations was the Mississippi River, where we would proceed to toss rocks into the swift currents to our  little hearts' content. 

Now that I am a resident of a city that actually sits on that same great river, it didn't seem like that particular destination would do for our afternoon of adventure.  However, sometime when the weather was warmer, I had read an article about good kid-friendly destinations within a short drive, and it stuck in my brain that there was a very cool park in Covington, TN. 

"How far is Covington, Josh?"

"Oh, it's only about 30 minutes away."

"Great!  Let's go check out that park I read about."

"Cark?!"

"Sounds like Walty's in . . . let's hit the road."

So, after almost an hour of driving, a detour to Sonic for tater tots and a milkshake, and one stop at a gas station to ask directions to the park, we finally arrived at our destination just before dusk.

And what a park it was.

Full of swings . . .

and slides . . .

tightropes . . .

and ladders . . .

and lots of little nooks . . .

and crannies.

Walty had a very good time indeed.  And truth be told, Mommy . . .

and Daddy . . .

probably had just as good (if not better) of a time as Walt.

And the best part of all?  We had the whole place to ourselves.  Seems that most people don't think that late afternoon on a chilly December day is the ideal time to hit the park.  Well, the Spickler family says, who needs sweat and mosquitos and a bunch of rowdy big kids hogging the slide when you can slap on a hat and some gloves (well, some of us wore gloves -- one of us adamantly refused) and have free reign of the whole playground? 

And because pink cheeks and a cute hats make for great pictures of everyone (and because my wireless internet connection is actually speedy for once), here are a few more shots for your viewing pleasure.

See, I do sometimes put my birthday present to good use!

*The Melody Singers van was the gigantic (we're talking room for eight passengers with PLENTY of space for luggage or sleeping children in the back) red and white vehicle my parents purchased from a church singing group when we were kids.  When they bought it, the words, "Melody Singers" were emblazoned across both sides, and their intention was to have that painted out ASAP after purchase.  Well, we all know how intentions go.  After receiving one too many calls asking our family to give a performance at some church's summer revival, they finally got around to it.  And none too soon, because the Partridge Family we were not.

C is for Conifers*

"Let me get this straight -- we're going to pay how much for a dead tree and put it where?"

"Alright, if you insist, I think I see a winner over here."

"See?  Look how cute I look next to it!"

"Uh, excuse me, that's our tree.  Hands off, mister!"

As you can imagine, Walt was a very big help in putting the tree up. 

What?  Like you've never seen a pumpkin and a Christmas tree on the porch at the same time? 

The tree is up . . .

. . . and it's good!!

Walt especially likes the Pat the Bunny ornament (he's giving it a kiss here) and the dump truck ornament given to him by Gram.  It's hanging a little higher because it's breakable, but everyday, he goes to the tree, points at it, and shouts, "Duh-cruk!"

*The title of one of the many great songs on the They Might Be Giants Here Come the ABCs CD.  If you have kids under the age of, oh about six or seven, you must have this CD.  (Also available in DVD format for those long holiday car trips.)

Giving Thanks for Little Boys

First of all, our apologies to you loyal blog checkers out there who have patiently waited through the long weekend and the first three days of this week for the Thanksgiving post.  We've got plenty of excuses, but we'll spare you and get straight to the photos.

Mommy hosted book club last evening and needed several hours to prepare the house and the meal for the big night.  Walt, as he has taken to doing lately, graciously occupied himself in his room and its vicinity with some books of his own and his many toys.  I'm not sure exactly how long he had been unsupervised, but Ginger assures me he arranged his toys like this all by himself.  I took this photo when I walked in the door from work.  Keep in mind that the ottoman glides very easily at the slightest touch and most of those toys have wheels on them.  Impressive.  And a bit frightening.

I can't say enough about this photo.  Note the blocks and shapes on the back of the truck in the upper right hand corner.  Also, note the train with the blue wheels in the upper left hand corner that he has cantilevered off of the edge.   This worries me a lot.  Mainly because I'm afraid he gets this from me.

For the more traditional photos we offer this series of Walt and his cousin Collier, who had the grandest of times at Gram and Deedaddy's on Saturday and Sunday.

Playing in piles of leaves has become one of Walt's favorite activities.  Collier is not quite as willing to get down and dirty.

Not to worry, the hammer in the next photo is made of very soft foam.  Collier brought one for Walt, too.  When he and his parents arrived Friday evening, Walt had already gone to bed.  Collier was carried in the door asleep and limp as a rag but with one foam hammer firmly in each hand.  His first act on Saturday morning was to sleepily hand Walt his hammer.  Very sweet.

Before Walt arrived in Murray, he spent Thanksgiving Day with Putty and Nana at Aunt Tutu's.  There were plenty of cousins, aunts and uncles (and uncle's trucks) available for photo ops.

That's cousin Drew.  Those two kids have some blue eyes, don't they?

Uncle Larry's "reh kruck" was a popular destination all day long.  And of course, there was a short trip with Putty to see the cows.  Mooo.

That's about it for the second Daddy Post this month.  Since I've got the keyboard, hopefully you'll indulge me a few lines of photo-free text to go on about that for which I'm most thankful.  Today, I had lunch with a friend who has a six month old.  He expressed how it still doesn't feel real.  It feels like he's babysitting someone else's child.  Fatherhood hasn't set in, yet.  I remember that feeling exactly.  But I can say without a doubt that it is now fully set with me.  And I dig it.  No matter what goofiness has happened at the office or how idiotic the Memphis drivers have acted on the way home, each day when I come to the front door and he leaps off the sofa and runs to the front door clapping all the while, well . . . if you can't be thankful for that . . .