I rarely pay full price for things for you and your sister. It's a blessing in many ways, but it's also a curse. The thought of paying more than $5 for anything for you two causes me some heartburn. And when Daddy and I talked about getting you a tricycle, we knew we'd have to fork out more than $5. We couldn't get just a regular tricycle (which I probably could have gotten for $5 at a consignment sale). You're a bit too young for one of those. We needed one that had a seat belt. And we wanted one with a parent-steering-handle-thingee. So we got one for you. And Natalie was so excited when we brought it home. She loved that you could go riding with her. And in Big Headed Smithkid tradition (Natalie wears a helmet made for an eight-year-old), you have one made for a five-year-old. It has Transformers on it. It's rad.
You LOVE balls. You are never as happy as when you have a ball in your hands. You yell BAWWWWWWWWWW as you wander through the house holding onto as many balls as you can hold. When we read books, you look for anything that remotely resembles a ball-shaped item: an orange, the sun, a watch face, a crumpled up piece of paper, you name it. When you hone in on one, you point to it and get ridiculously excited as you holler BAWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. You try to say 'basketball'. Except that it comes out like 'butt-ball'. Thankfully Natalie doesn't yet know that 'butt' is a less-than-desirable name for a rear end, so she doesn't quite see the humor that I (silently) do. She does giggle, though, and she tries to correct you. "No Charlie! It's not a BUTT-ball! It's a BASKETball! Buh buh BASKETball!" Then you say 'butt-ball' again and the cycle continues.
You're still a crib gnawer. And you've gnawed to the point where the wood is literally shredded in a certain area of your crib. It's so gross. So I've covered up that area in an old towel, taped to the crib in blue painter's tape. You don't appear to be eating the tape (much) - you seem to prefer to just pull it off. In case you were wondering, YES, you're still a gigantic punk.
You've really gotten excited about the animals in our backyard. There are several random neighborhood cats that periodically sunbathe (and, you know, poop) in our backyard. Add that to the assortment of birds and squirrels that show up, and you're thoroughly entertained. You squeal, you point, you bounce up and down. If only those silly animals knew how much you liked watching them, maybe they'd put on more of a show for you. But you seem perfectly happy watching the cat sleep, watching the birds stand on a tree branch, and watching the squirrels run from one tree to another.
So I did this with your sister, and I'm happy to do it with you. I COULD be teaching you 'better' stuff, but there are far funnier things to teach you. For instance, it's way more fun to teach you to say "la la la" when I ask you what three singing pigs say. Sandra Boynton for the WIN. [Side note - you don't appear to have the problems with saying your Ls like your sister did. Three years ago, the book was called "Moo Baa Ya Ya Ya".] It's so fun teaching you silly stuff. I'm sure we'll eventually get to 'important' stuff like colors and shapes and stuff, but in case we don't, I apologize in advance to your preschool teacher because you'll be the kid who thinks pigs say "la la la".
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
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Headlines for May 9, 2013:
- House Homeland Security Committee holds hearing on Boston Marathon bombings
- Late to the crafty party: 'Pinterest stress' afflicts nearly half of moms
- 2 Aboard Carnival Cruise Lost at Sea After Falling
- Top diplomats claim major Benghazi missteps
- Cleveland Kidnap Suspect Now the 'Captive,' Prosecutor Says, as Bail Set at $8M
- Eating peppers may lower Parkinson's risk
