Remy’s been up to some fun stuff lately, so I figure it’s a good time for recording some of it.
Saying No…And Meaning It. The talking continues to progress at breakneck speed. While no is a pretty simple word to pronounce, that’s hardly the point. It’s about asserting his independence by making some of his own choices. Specifically, a choice to disagree with what Mom or Dad desires. One of these things is whether to put on pajamas after the bath. I hear boys like to run around naked. It’s at least true for this one.
Nana, Papa, Grandma & Grandpa. Since my mother insisted on being called Nana instead of Grandma (supposedly it sounds younger), I got the brilliant idea that the Parr grandparents would go by Nana and Papa while the Crumpler grandparents would be Grandma and Grandpa. Sounds reasonable, right? Well, things went great last weekend at my parents’ house. Before we left, Remy had the Nana and Papa monikers down pat. This weekend, we’re at the Crumplers. So I ask Remy, “Can you say Grandma?” He replies, “Nana.” “Can you say Grandpa?” “Papa.” Oh well.
Dinner Table Crazy Laps. We have a newish habit in between dinner and bath. It would be one thing if I could sit back and watch the little man burn off the calories, but I’m required to chase. If I (obstinately) remain seated finishing my dinner, I’m pulled by my finger and cajoled to get “up!” and “walk!”
Kiss the Owie. Remy’s got a double whammy when it comes to minor injury proneness. First, he’s a toddler. Second, he’s my son and these genes don’t beget a lot of grace. Door jambs still regularly jump out in front of me and when it comes to Remy’s bruise rate, all signs point to him inheriting my tendency to run into things. Good thing he has a sure fire method to make the ow in owie go away– Mommy’s kisses. Several times a day he presents a body part commanding that I “Kiss! Kiss!” Glad to oblige little fella.