In a Pickle
I think a dislike of pickles (particularly on cheeseburgers) permeates my side of the family as far back as I know… except that I like them sometimes. Hopefully there hasn’t been any talk of being kicked out of the Chapman clan because of my partial enjoyment of them, BECAUSE IAN LOVES PICKLES. He loves them so much he asks for them, by name, when I ask him if I can get him anything else. He also asks for them in a vocal tone he reserves for such delicacies as cookies, bananas, and snacks. His voice does an odd shift in all those words as well, with emphasis toward the front and a sort of questioning higher pitch toward the end… “PEEK cull?” “COOK eee?”
Here’s a picture of Ian scarfing down a pickle. We usually stop him at around 8-10 slices, but if we let him, he’d eat them until he made himself sick. See this image larger.
He did try to throw out the instructions to the tricycle before I put it together, however, so that should put any questions about the strength of the Chapman genes in him to rest. 😉
Funny to see how the bedtime ritual has changed now that Ian sleeps in his “big boy bed.” Melissa brushes his teeth, we change his diaper, give him his zooey, read him some stories — and then previously he’d hand his blankie over to mommy, who would pick him up, they’d walk over so that Ian could bend down and turn off the lights, I’d kiss him… into the crib he’d go, and off to dreamland. Now it is different: He picks up his blankies, walks by himself to the light switch, turns it off, comes back and hugs mommy, walks over on his own to me and hugs me… and then jumps into bed. (The other night, he then jumped right back out of bed and gave Melissa and I a bonus kiss, because he felt like it. We felt particularly blessed that night.)
We play a lot of little goofy games… during diaper changes I’ll sometimes act like I think his feet stink and make horrible faces down at him. He thinks this is the pinnacle of comedy, and between giggle-fits sometimes requests “ageen!”
Another thing I’ve been doing the last few weeks is hiding four little stuffed animal bunnies (these are little “peep” stuffed animals, for the record… Grampa Dafe got them for Ian on his first Easter, two years ago now…) somewhere in the house for him to find. They’re only a few inches tall, so they are easily integrated into other toys. But it is neat to see him brighten up when it is time to go bunny-hunting after day care — and then a big grin crosses his face when they’re all reunited. We also consider this to be a good way to practice for an Easter egg hunt.
Please keep Levi Schoenborn in your thoughts and prayers… he continues to struggle with RSV, although I believe he is doing better based on what I’m reading.
For those of you wondering, I am working some billing hours at the moment, but it isn’t anything long-term. I’ll take what I can get at this point. Melissa continues to be an excellent sugar mama. 😉
