400 posts, 18 months, and All is Normal

This post is actually Mama's 401st posting.

And Little P actually turned 18 months old 15 days ago.

And, really, what is normal? Certainly not us.

So here we are, on the day that Little P went in to have his 18-month check-up. It's amazing, this new doctor's office that we have. It's so fantastically busy that we arrived 10 minutes early for a 10:00 appointment and were not seen by the doctor until 11:00! Is that normal?

Little P is right on schedule for growth - in the 50-something percentiles for weight and height. His head is a little big (I can tell you that from looking at him!) but nothing bizarre or alarming. He's a very healthy boy!

His latest big development is that he has gotten very adept at climbing. This has always been an interest of his, he's just taking it to a whole new level these days. Yesterday I turned my back on him for mere minutes in the yard and when I turned back around he was halfway up the slide, climbing up the down part with his sticky bare feet. I fought back the urge to get involved and he finished the climb, sat down, slid to the ground by himself (also a new development) and turned right back around to climb it again.

Let's not even talk about all the climbing of chairs and couches that is going on, or all the reminders to sit on his bottom when in an adult-sized seat.

He continues to attempt jumping with both feet, but is yet only able to get one foot off the ground at a time. I have been winking at him lately, and he blinks back at me with a huge grin on his face. The concentration slows down his blink, however, which results in a look that could be described as "bedroom eyes" if he were a 25 year old woman. It's a good thing he's just a goofy boy-toddler.

He's still obsessed with wheels and cars and garbage trucks and motocycles and bikes. He loves water and sand and eating dirt. He occasionally torments the dog, and he loves to protest all the injustices Mama incurs on him by backing up slowly, waving his hands, letting forth a wrenching wail or a whine, and sometimes throwing himself on the ground. He also enjoys reading, even if it's all by himself in a playpen.

That's the roundup, folks.

Behold, the Artist

Given that Little P is ever so slightly outgrowing the tendency to put all objects into his mouth, Mama decided to try some art projects with him. Mama also decided that his boredom with all things usual in the house required some more creative stimulation in order to maintain tranquility of mood within the youngest member of The P-Pod. Thus, fingerpaints were purchased, crayons were unearthed, and on a warm summer day last week, Little P began the journey to the interior - getting in touch with his artistic self.

The only obvious thing to do when commencing finger painting for the first time is to do it on a crappy table outside in one's underwear.

As you can see, this was crucial to the success of this project as far as Mama was concerned. Can you imagine this occurring in the living room? Mama shudders.

Have you also noticed that Little P could not help himself? Telltale signs of blue around his mouth betray his lack of self control.

This is what happens to underwear when first exposed to fingerpaints. Mama dares to wonder if puffy paint will come back in style. Little P could create his own line of decorated diapers!

Little P's first (and only) fingerpaint creation so far. It is taped to the dated mirrored walls in the living room. In fact, Mama thought that maybe she could cover the entire mirrored wall with Little P originals. She thinks it might beat looking at herself all day long.

Caveat - As Mama modeled fingerpainting, she did make some marks on this particular canvas, namely the red starrish objects and some of the blue dots.

Incidentally, that same day Mama introduced Little P to crayons. The picture below was created entirely by him and is his first original piece in crayon. He has produced many pieces since as he is quite prolific. He employs a technique he refers to as the "scribble and grind" which gives the appearance of stray lines with little globs of heavy texture.

And here we see the tools of the trade.

Let it be known that his dining table also doubles as an art table. He has mentioned that if anyone is interested in contributing to his future as an artist, he would be happily accept a donation of a used child's art easel.

Mama rather likes confining him to a high chair while he colors.

Unfortunately, he has already left his mark on two walls, three windows, and the floor.

The artist, hard at work.

Here he thinks about his next move, gaining inspiration from that which lies on the other side of the kitchen window.

Coloring makes a boy happy!

And then he discovered the common pen. Oh, dear. He can unscrew a pen and pop out the spring faster than you can say "Jack Nicholson." He's a dextrous one, I tell you.

Gone Fwimmin'

Little P is working on his California boy look. His first order of business was to learn to swim. Or rather, as he says it, fwim.

Last week, Mama and Little P had their first Mommy and Me swim class. Our dude-in-training was eager to get in the water.

It was so fun to watch the other kids learning to fwim. It was so fun watching beautiful Miss Magda teach us water games.

It was not so fun to blow bubbles in the fish ring.

But the fun returned if Mama blew bubbles in the fish ring.

See? Mama's blowing the bubbles and Little P is just chillin'. That's what dudes do, you know.

When they're not riding the waves, they chill, which translates to "have a good time" and often involves letting someone else do the heavy lifting. Little P caught on to that perfectly.

Then Miss Magda decided that Little P needed help learning to reach. He was supposed to be stretching his arms out. That's what you do when you fwim. But he was too busy chillin', so Miss Magda lent a suntanned hand.

Little P then learned a bit about floating on his back. He liked that even less that blowing bubbles. Floating on his back put water in his ears, and no way! He did not like that.

After more help from Miss Magda he got to kick-kick-kick on his tummy. Little P didn't mind that so much.

He did enjoy using a kickboard! Buoyancy makes chillin' so much easier.

Next up: jumping off the wall. We started out seated.

Then moved to standing, but Little P was having none of it. Balancing on a kickboard was more his style.

"Look how Dylan does it!" Mama encouraged him. He looked, but even the sight of 15-month-old Dylan running off the edge into his mama's arms was not enough to convince him it was a good idea.

He did manage many butt scoots off the edge, though, which Mama thinks is fine seeing how this was his first lesson and his fourth time ever in a pool.

Learning that Mama will catch him when he jumps in...

This is one happy fwimmer! We now go on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so his third lesson will be tomorrow.

photos courtesy of Grandma

Amusement, Mountain Style

One of Benjamin's favorite things to do in the woods was to play with pine cones. He was fascinated by them. And they were EVERYWHERE.

When he learned the word for them he repeated it rapidly, again and again and again...and now Mama is being redundant, but, really, you must experience just how repetitive it was. And when he repeated the word quickly it came out like...

"pankopankopankopankopankopanko pankopankopankopankopankopankopanko pankopankopankopankopankopankopankopanko."

It did, I promise.

He also had fun finding public restrooms in remote places. He had to run up to the doors and try the handles.
We found Mama's childhood Weeble set - the kind designed like Sesame Street before Elmo came along. Before it got sanitized. Poor Benjamin. In this photo he was so exhausted from the day that he couldn't break his stare, or wouldn't break it for anything.


And this, THIS is the coolest teepee for a kid that Mama has seen. A neighbor handed it down to Benjamin and Mama was waiting for the perfect time to set it up. Well, the cabin trip was the perfect time and just look at how much fun he had!


Inside, Benjamin kept a handmade stuffed goose, Mandy and Jenny dolls, his "yammy" (lamby), a few books, his new race car, a blanket for cushioning, and occasionally, the Weebles. He would go inside the tent and play for a good hour at a time.

Sublime, Divine Beauty

The John Muir Wilderness and part of the Pacific Crest trail run through the mountains surrounding the family cabin. Our day hikes took us into these areas.



For most of our hikes, Benjamin rode in the carrier, but a few times we took him out, at his request, and walked at a toddler's pace. It made both The Mama and The Papa greatly anticipate the day when we could take him on his first overnight backpacking trip.


The Mama thinks she remembers her first trip being two night long in the Cuyamacas. Ants rained down from the trees onto their tent one night, and Mama earned her Sierra cup (the aluminum cup with a hook-handle that hangs off the backpack). She carried her own backpack. She was, maybe, in second grade. (Maybe. The memory is a little unreliable these days. Does The Grandma or Grandpa remember?)




The terrain in the Sierras changes drastically from one mile to another. One might walk through a bristlecone pine forest only to have it break open into a grassy meadow filled with Indian paintbrushes, irises, lupine bells and baby evergreens. There, a tiny, meandering creek often carves out a delicate haven for native brown trout only four inches long. It's fairytale-like, really.

One might possibly encounter a grove of aspen trees - trees which do not reproduce by dropping seeds, but by sending out long roots that sprout a new tree making aspen forests incredibly dense.




One might then walk along a rocky ridge, as we did at Piute Pass, and see on one side, a steep drop off into a valley or maybe a waterfall, and on the other side, witness high orange cliffs and lonely rock faces.

In the midst of all this beauty, it seems that Benjamin caught a glimpse of the Divine. Two times, on separate hikes, we came upon a valley or a lake and as we looked down to admire the view, he shouted, "Amen...amen, amen, amen!"

Now. We are not of the Baptist or Pentecostal tradition, so exuberant affirmations of "amen" are not something he learned from us. I do not even know if he knew what he was saying - but I'm going to pretend he did.

For what is more of a prayer, more of a show of praise to the Creator than the raw and powerful beauty of wild, untamed nature? Yes, it is a prayer that speaks to our hearts and it is good and right to respond with nothing more than an "amen" from the depths of our being. Thank you, Benjamin, for saying it perfectly.

Amen.

Happy Nature Boy

If this kid were Native American, his name would be "Plays With Dirt."

Undoubtedly.

Fish Tales

The Papa did a lot of fishing on our trip to the Sierras. His Father's Day gift was a pole and some gear, so he was ready to go.

Much of the time, Little P rode on Mama's back. But on occasion, he accompanied The Papa to the edge of the stream.

At this spot, Little P was actually out running around and talking about fish and dirt and the big trucks he had seen in the parking lot earlier. Note: I am not teaching him to be a "boy". He just is.

The water was beautiful.

At this fishing hole, Little P did ride on The Papa's back for a while. Trouble is, he decided to take off his "Just Cruisin'" hat that Grandma bought him and pitch it in the river. It hung out under the roots near a bank for a bit, then before we could grab it, floated down into the rapids and became lost forever. Mama felt very badly that the nice hat Grandma got him was gone. The Papa said, "That's what kids do."

Mere moments before the hat hit the water.

WARNING: Tangent Ahead

When Mama was somewhere's around nine years old, she went fishing with her own papa. As she climbed the banks, she hit a slippery patch and went right into the fishing hole. It was deep. She did not touch bottom. But she grabbed the roots and before long, her papa fished her out.

Alas, her black corduroy cowboy hat with the wide feather in front was floating down the river. That was a special hat reserved for times with her papa in the mountains. They trudged down the river and managed to find it! To this day, the hat is at the family cabin. The feather was the only casualty of the entire event.

We are sorry to say, the "Just Cruisin'" hat met a less esteemable fate.

Here is The Papa's catch from one afternoon.

Climbing, Climbing

Another Sierra Nevada Mountains tale:
Our fearless boy is always looking for an adventure, so when he came face to face with exposed granite, he simply had to climb. Mind you, these stones do not look that large, but it all depends on how big you are to begin with, no?

This is where he doesn't really want to look at Mama or the camera. You can tell by the expression on his face.

When he is having an exciting time, Little P is wont to let out an exuberant scream or two.

Climbing requires great concentration. It does not matter that he is so low to the ground.