- There is still a chance I'll get to meet up with my dear old friend. The big boss, apparently, has not decided who is actually going to this shin-dig in DC the end of this month. That means I may not have to go. I know bossman. My chances of skipping the event are fairly good. We've got a dozen employees in the Metro DC area. They won't require hotel rooms. I don't expect he has the inclination to book many hotel rooms.
- My daughter went 9 full months without sprouting a single tooth. She's now 14 months old. A full 5 months have passed since her first and only two teeth arrived. Today the little tiny pointy edge of her third tooth poked through. We're putting a hold on the toddler dentures.
- Said daughter, always a chatterbox in some form, is starting to use two word phrases. Happily she's another Elmo devotee that has avoided picking up his distaste for common pronouns. Her latest verbal accomplishments (all used at appropriate moments): "Oh no!", "I know", "I do!" and "Wan dat!" (The last phrase being "want that!") She is also asking for help ("hep!"), trying hard to say thank you ("tangoo") and generally bossing us all around with phrases like "Tajah door" ("Tasha is at the door! Go let her in!") The biggest word grouping thus far came last night in pure frustration. She appeared in the doorway to our living room holding her Cabbage Patch Kid by its hair. She was teary eyed and clearly frustrated. She held the doll out to me and said "Mama. Hep doll. Mama. doler." I took that to mean "Mommy help put my doll in the stroller." So I did. And she happily trotted off pushing her baby around the house.
- We've taken a lazy approach to teaching the 3-year old time. He's learned that bath time starts roughly around 7pm. He knows he's out of the tub at 7:30 and that when the clock says "eight-oh-oh" he's supposed to be lights out. (He's also begun to understand the whole "Little hand-big hand" on his new alarm clock.) When he's balking about getting dressed in the morning we give him a time we're aiming for. "Logan, when the clock says 8:00, it's time to get dressed for school." He dutifully keeps an eye on the clock.
This morning as I walked out the door for work, I gave him such a directive. Not too much later, Grandma, not realizing Logan was all about "exact" time when given his deadlines, saw it was 7:53. "Logan, time to get ready," she said.
He glanced at the clock before speaking. "No Grandma. Mommy said eight-oh-oh," he informed her. "I still have seven minutes."
Grandma called me after dropping him off at preschool. "Did you know he could subtract minutes from his deadline?" she asked before telling me the story.
"What are you talking about? No," I replied.
Really, I should stop being shocked by him.