Cars and Trucks and Things That Go

Today is gray and chilly. The gray has been a long time coming and, I realized today, walking under the saggy sky, how lucky we have been this fall, not only in terms of temperatures, but in terms of sunlight too. Against the gray sky, the brown, bare branches look so much sadder and more sickly. Against blue sky they look dramatic, dark veins or a brilliant idea.

You did not help my mood today, Thiz. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of this week (i.e. the days when I am in charge), you have refused to nap in the morning. Today I sat, drinking some luke warm coffee, addressing submission envelopes with a hand going slowly shaky from frustration at the high pitched shrieking coming from your room. As though you had been battered and dipped in hot oil. That kind of sound. So finally I brought you downstairs and tried to address the envelopes anyway but you stood next to me, tugging at my thighs, wailing and bounching slightly to emphasize your frustration. Somehow, this was made all the worse my your outfit (my choice) which consisted of overalls and an orange acrylic sweater with geometric patterns in green and white. When Daddy got home he said you looked like an old woman with mom jeans. In times of extreme distress, your cuteness is the main thing you have going for you--and the fact that your cuteness was marred by an old-woman button-front sweater did not help your cause.

Today is rather out of the ordinary, though. I have spent the last week, in fact, talking about how much I love the way this age (14 months!) looks on you. You're generally happy. In the morning, you give Daddy and I each a kiss or hug before pointing toward the doorway of the bedroom and grunting. You love to read Richard Scarry's "Cars and Trucks and Things That Go" and can identify such things as: unicycle, pig family, fire truck, ambulance, tank, Gold Bug, Flossy the Fox, dump truck, pickle truck, pumpkin car, and broom.

Yesterday, as I read "Curious George and the Dump Truck" (a book which you adore and I find to be only vaguely tolerable) I asked, "what sound does Curious George hear outside his window?" You very solemnly replied "qua, qua, qua." The ducks in your head are French, I guess.

You hate, more than anything in the world, to have to SIT DOWN in your car seat or stroller. Each day, we go through the Stages of Sitting: resistance, bargaining, distraction, force, submission, and acceptance. I hate, HATE physically forcing you into these seats, but if I didn't we would never go anywhere. Ever. You always look so sad and defeated once I do get the harness around you, a single tear glistening (Romance novel style) on the top of each cheek.

But mostly, mostly you are affectionate and curious and full of overwhelming excitement about everything. Here is a video (assuming it will load) of what happened when we put sunglasses on you and told you to dance.