Thanksgiving '08

- Looking sharp in that scholarly vest and tie -

- A boy and his guns -
[Just for the record, we are anti-toy guns in our house. So, when Marcelo picked up these puppies at Omi & Grandpa's house, he was quite intrigued].

Independent

I tried handing you a million and one things to capture your attention so you wouldn't crawl away from me while I was trying to take these pictures. That trick has obviously run it's course and is now highly ineffective. You managed to find the rock you're holding in your right hand all by yourself though, which allowed me this quick shot. The next morning, I found the rock in your crib.

Now that you can walk, oh yeah, did I mention you can walk now. Yes, yes, you started walking about two weeks after your first birthday. First, two steps, then within a few days, five steps in a row, and within two weeks you were walking all over the place. We even video taped your first few steps which is not something we do often. I have to charge up the video camera every time it occurs to me to capture something on video. It's like the dark ages. [Must remember to upload short video].

But anyway, you can walk and you are now Mr. Independent. Unfortunately this important milestone has brought along some nasty new personality developments: screaming, throwing yourself backwards in defiant demonstrations, crying, and more screaming. It's as though along with the ability to walk you were given some kind of revelation that you can and should demand whatever your whim desires. You have in fact, also figured out all the food possibilities in your menu and you are no longer delighted to try new the same foods and instead demand (soy, milk, and nut-free) crackers, which I should mention are not easy to find and damn expensive. I tested your resolve and you went on a three meal strike on veggies, fruits, and other delicious, sugarless, soy-less, milk-less, butter-less, foods until you got your damn crackers.

The other day at Costco, you showed some of your darker colors as you whined through the whole store. When I went to put Sofia back into the child seat next to you in the cart, you were outraged and screamed bloody murder followed by a violent and enraged shove of her shoulder. I was rather shocked. After all, I thought you were the sweet one. I usually have to reprimand Sofia when I hear you screaming and this time I kind of stood there like I didn't know what to do. When we went to leave, it took me several minutes to strap you into the car seat (oh yeah, you graduated to the big boy front facing car seat -I think you weigh enough, at least your head probably does). You were determined to not go in there using the backward back bend maneuver and I was afraid if I forced you in there, I would have child protective services called on me. But alas, I finally had to show you who was boss and strap you down. Maybe it was the food strike. I don't know. Luckily we haven't had any repeat incidents but I stopped going to the store for a while because of that.

You still don't say any real, comprehensible, or meaningful words. Not even "Mama". What's up with that? You do make a lot of noises and repetitive sounds. In fact sometimes you say "a mama ma ma ma ..." which I've decided means that you want something but not necessarily or even usually me. Sometimes it's just, "mimi mi mi ...", which I had to convince Sofia that you are not calling Ms. Mimi, her preschool director. I guess you're not going to be as good a talker as Sofia was but you certainly walk much better than her and you are such a "pretty boy". Ladies always stop me when I'm out shopping with you while Sofia is at preschool and comment on what a "pretty boy" you are and how much you look like me. I don't know why they say that since there's no other point of reference, although it is of course very true. I take it as a compliment of course but hopefully they stop saying that as you get older.