Overheard 8/27/07

In the backyard playing baseball.  The whole family.  Daddy is pitching.  Mommy is helping Walt be the batterman.

Walt: Keep the ball on your eye, Mommy!

Whack!

Pay attention A-Rod.  It works.

The Walking Wounded

We are sick.  All of us (well, Evie's not really sick, but she still limps every now and then).  Quite the pathetic bunch, if I do say so myself. 

It all started with a Monday night trip to the ER with Walt who was having trouble breathing, as it turns out, due to a case of croup (topped off with an ear infection).

"I got the croup," he says.  It's very cute when he says it. 

The rest of the family was chugging right along until about Friday when both Josh and I started feeling a little off.  We spent Saturday in our pajamas in varying states of alertness.  It definitely hit me worse than Josh (whose main complaint is sore lower arms of unknown origin -- the soreness, not the arms), but we're all rather sad. 

Walt's worst day was Friday.  We were playing with his trucks in his room and I had to go get dressed so I could go to work when Josh came home at lunch to relieve me.  I left him for about ten minutes and came back to find him curled up on the floor with his lovies.  Poor baby.

He did rally a smile when he realized I had the camera out, though.

Fortunately, we're all feeling a little better today, so hopefully our next report will be more exciting.  In the meantime, if anyone has any great home remedies for opening stuffy nasal passages without the use of drugs that keep you up all night, send 'em on.  Over and out.

Water Water Everywhere

I like to think that despite the triple-digit temperatures, crippling drought, poor air quality and general discomfort that the last several weeks have brought, summer is almost over.  And with the end of summer comes the final lake trip of the season.  We set out to our favorite lake haunt with two-thirds of the Lareau clan (Chris was forced, by judicial decree, to remain behind and participate in a criminal jury trial.) and the Mills (Landon, Beth and Henry).

So, here are the photos.  Each of them featuring a little H2O and some smiles.

Walt practically slept in his life jacket and could hardly wait for the boat to stop so he could get in the water.

Here we have the elusive full Spickler family lake portrait.

This is the usual "Mommy Takes the Photos While Daddy and Walt Have All the Fun" photo that you've all come to know and love.

Meredith was so relaxed, she drifted away a little.  No fear; we got her back.

There was no drifting for Walt.  He was firmly anchored by "baby" Henry.  He's eight months old.

Walt and Meredith on the final voyage to the dock. 

Drum Line

Only one of them was purpose-built for drumming, but the others make just as good of a racket (better, actually).  Here we move the drum line closer to Daddy so he can hear better.

He made us clap at the end of each "song" before announcing, "Here comes the next song."

Quite the virtuoso he is.

Overheard 8/6/07

I convinced Walt to help me pull weeds and dried up, dead flowers from the flower beds in front of the house.  We were preparing the yard for the National Night Out Against Crime.  We hosted a block party last night.

Daddy: We need to pull out all of the brown ones and shake the dirt off, then put them in a pile right here.

Walt: OK, Daddy.  [Squatting and doing just that]

Walt: [Standing and looking at the dirt on his hands] Daddy, this dirt's dirty.  We need some new dirt.

Daddy: [Silence . . . what do you say to that?]

Potty Party

Inspired by the success of Cousin Collier, and with a week-long break from school, we decided to tackle the final frontier of Walt's babyhood . . . potty training.  So, on Tuesday evening when Josh got home from work, we packed up the remaining diapers and Walt and Daddy walked across the street to deliver them to Mason, who (being a baby) still has use for such things.  True to his nature, Walt was pretty laid-back about the whole thing.  He went to bed that night in a pull-up festooned with his beloved Cars characters.

The next morning, Walt and I settled in for a day spent near the potty.  We loaded up on the beverages so we'd have ample opportunities to practice, and then found ways to while away the hours.  One of us wore pants, the other did not.  And so it went for the next four days.  A special shout-out to Gram, who came all the way from Murray to stay home with him on Friday so Mommy could go to work.  And also to Nana and Putty who were on hand Monday for the same purpose (and who bought Walt the snazzy trike pictured below).

Technically, only the last picture was taken during our potty-training confinement -- the others were in the dry-runs (no pun intended, but funny nonetheless!) leading up to Wednesday -- but all give you an idea of how much time Walt has spent in just his skivvies over the past five days.

While I wouldn't call him 100% potty-trained, he's doing really well.  We generally have a couple of accidents everyday, but most of the time he hits the mark, earning him one sticker and one jelly bean.  And despite my fears (which led me to send not one, but two backup outfits in Ziploc bags), he came home from church in the same outfit he went in.  And I call that a rousing success.