Of course, this is also the semester I started back to work for the first time since Caleb was born. So I guess I can blame some of my laziness on that. I am far busier than I have been, that's for sure. But honestly, that's only been a pea sized peice of the problem. The primary issue has been my own innate laziness and preference for internet networking sites over homework. My lack of blogging has not indicated a lack of internet time wastedness.
(By the way, have you noticed that I've added a Twitter app to the left hand side of my blog? My internet pal Micah calls this micro-blogging. So even if I don't have the time and energy for a full post, I can still bore you to peices with the mundane happenings of my life. Sweet!)
Okay, long intro. Happy Fat Tuesday! I know all my family in New Orleans are living it up today and celebrating Mardi Gras. We had a Mardi Gras-themed potluck at work today. Someone brought jambalaya, someone else brought dirty rice. I should have brough red beans and rice, but there seemed to be a lot of rice-based dishes already, so I brought Cajun-inpsired meatballs, complete with hot sauce and Tony Chachere's (which is clearly the best Cajun seasoning EVER. No question.)
Caleb is adjusting very well to day care. He still cries from time to time when we drop him off, but he always does well the rest of the day. He's one of the best eaters in the class, often taking seconds and thirds of whatever they're dishing up (and sometimes fourths! What a chubbers) He loves fruit, any and all fruit. He loves the fish tank in his class, but he hates art projects that involve dirtying his hands. He totally takes after his father in this respect. He's also doing better at not eating as many crayons, but you have to watch him on this one!
He's also learning So. Stinking. MUCH! He's trying hard to form words that he can't pronounce yet. He can certianly identify and label things, and he has his own versions for words. (Dogs are still "didi"s, apples are "AH-bees", and shoes are "iss!") My husband has also taugh him "boobies." Yes, boobies. My son now lifts my husband shirt, points at his chest and says, "beebees?" He's a bad influence, my husband.
He LOVES reading. It's never enough to read just one book, we must exhaust his bookshelf. He really loves books featuring dogs and balls, and he's a huge fan of Good Night Moon, which has had to be glued back together once already. He also loves books about fish and anything with flaps he can open to discover what's hiding.
He's becoming more and more of a toddler in every sense of the word. Beyond the discovery and playfulness, he's getting a little attitude. He doesn't like his car seat any more, he doesn't want to hold my hand when we're walking half the time, and he insists on feeding half his meals to the dogs, even if the dogs aren't in the room. He will very vocally let me know if he's not thrilled with the administration's policies on bed time and juice consumption. He's really, truly a boy in that he loves balls and hitting things, (including the dogs from time to time, who are so patient with him while we teach him what "soft touches" are.)
I know I say this at every age, but I really do LOVE this age. He's so curious and clever and funny and FUN. I love being around him, because it's a great excuse to let myself be a kid, to read in loud and expressive voices, to make silly faces, to blow bubbles at least three times a day, and to get down on the ground a just play. This is one of my favorite parts about being a parent: permission to be a kid.
Okay, well that is more than enough for one day. Later this week, I need to blog about our trip to Warwick Castle on President's Day. But for now, I'm going to get back to my class reading, and then it's time to sleep!