From the mixed up files of Mr. Kaden E. Frankweiler
Doob LOVES mixing things up. "You're a baby, and I'm a mommy!" he chortles gleefully, pointing at me. "You're a baby boy," he amends, "and Geneva's a mommy!"
Okay, Doo.
"And Gordon has Spencers tender!"
He does?
"Yeah! And Spencer has Gordon's tender!"
My goodness.
Just now, cleaning up his room, I found that Gordon does indeed have Spencer's tender. It's lucky for me that I don't organize his toys, because that's the sort of thing that would drive me batty. I have a toy box and two toy bins in the living room. Any loose piece goes anywhere as long as it's off the floor so Geneva won't eat it. Thus, I am able to consider this mixing up trend of Doob's a cute aspect of his age.
He also loves word games, and putting the word "poo" into anything possible. Neither Dan nor I react, we just say "How silly!" or "Okay," but man does he love the potty words right now. His entire conversation with my dad at this point is a parody of this video clip, taken when he was 2 years old and we were up north in Empire for the month. So he gets on the phone with my dad now and says, "Nunnu? Nunnu? I found a big POO!" and then laughs like crazy for two minutes and starts it up again. My dad, of course, thinks it's a laugh riot.
Doob is suddenly an amazing swimmer. When we first went to the pool up the street, I was either in with him or insisted he wear his floatie because he can't swim. Since then, he discovered (first at the Boulder swimming pool which is much shallower) that he can kick his legs and move his arms to propell himself underwater for a foot or two. This video shows that first day when he began swimming. After Boulder, he practiced swimming up north in the Homstead pool which has a zero foot entry, and got even better. Now he knows to tilt his head back so he can stand in the shallow end of our pool here in our subdivision, so I just strap on his goggles and watch him carefully as he jumps off the stairs onto a noodle, dives under to get rings on the steps, swims back and forth, and inches his way around the pool while hanging on to the side. It's remarkable how far he's come just in a month or so. It's really great for me, too, becuase it's so hot here, and I can just take him to the pool, dunk Geneva for a few minutes, then sun with her on a chair while he tires himself out quite nicely.
I had a playdate yesterday with some women from church, and Doob did very well. He was more interested in the kids' toys than in the kids themselves but eh, whatever. It's always a funny moment when people ask me, "What's Doob? Where did that come from?" because it's so natural to me to call him that I don't even realize how it must sound to other people. Heh.
Which brings me right back to his mixing things up again. Yesterday he was asking for "everything" for dinner, but wouldn't specify, so I said, "Oh, what a Doob you are!" and he points at me with a big grin, "No, you're a Doob!"
Me?
"Yeah, you're a Dooby boy!"
Okay Doob. :)
EDIT
Duh, forgot the links. Sorry.
Okay, Doo.
"And Gordon has Spencers tender!"
He does?
"Yeah! And Spencer has Gordon's tender!"
My goodness.
Just now, cleaning up his room, I found that Gordon does indeed have Spencer's tender. It's lucky for me that I don't organize his toys, because that's the sort of thing that would drive me batty. I have a toy box and two toy bins in the living room. Any loose piece goes anywhere as long as it's off the floor so Geneva won't eat it. Thus, I am able to consider this mixing up trend of Doob's a cute aspect of his age.
He also loves word games, and putting the word "poo" into anything possible. Neither Dan nor I react, we just say "How silly!" or "Okay," but man does he love the potty words right now. His entire conversation with my dad at this point is a parody of this video clip, taken when he was 2 years old and we were up north in Empire for the month. So he gets on the phone with my dad now and says, "Nunnu? Nunnu? I found a big POO!" and then laughs like crazy for two minutes and starts it up again. My dad, of course, thinks it's a laugh riot.
Doob is suddenly an amazing swimmer. When we first went to the pool up the street, I was either in with him or insisted he wear his floatie because he can't swim. Since then, he discovered (first at the Boulder swimming pool which is much shallower) that he can kick his legs and move his arms to propell himself underwater for a foot or two. This video shows that first day when he began swimming. After Boulder, he practiced swimming up north in the Homstead pool which has a zero foot entry, and got even better. Now he knows to tilt his head back so he can stand in the shallow end of our pool here in our subdivision, so I just strap on his goggles and watch him carefully as he jumps off the stairs onto a noodle, dives under to get rings on the steps, swims back and forth, and inches his way around the pool while hanging on to the side. It's remarkable how far he's come just in a month or so. It's really great for me, too, becuase it's so hot here, and I can just take him to the pool, dunk Geneva for a few minutes, then sun with her on a chair while he tires himself out quite nicely.
I had a playdate yesterday with some women from church, and Doob did very well. He was more interested in the kids' toys than in the kids themselves but eh, whatever. It's always a funny moment when people ask me, "What's Doob? Where did that come from?" because it's so natural to me to call him that I don't even realize how it must sound to other people. Heh.
Which brings me right back to his mixing things up again. Yesterday he was asking for "everything" for dinner, but wouldn't specify, so I said, "Oh, what a Doob you are!" and he points at me with a big grin, "No, you're a Doob!"
Me?
"Yeah, you're a Dooby boy!"
Okay Doob. :)
EDIT
Duh, forgot the links. Sorry.