Not in my house!

So do you remember when I said we'd never, ever have a house filled with brightly colored chunks of plastic to amuse our child? That he'd have to learn to play with one or two toys at a time, and then put those away neatly before moving on to the next toy? That our yard wouldn't become a sea of primary colors.

Remember that?  Well, I take it back.

We've contained it to one area of one room of the house, but my dear God does Jack have the toys.  Maybe that is one of the great lessons of parenthood:  never say never. 

Alright, who is she?

Every parent waits to hear their child's first word. Like a first meal of solids or first steps, it is a milestone, but the first word is more than that: it a parent's first good opportunity to claim favorite parent status.*  Will the first word be mama? Will he say papa? Will he show preference for the family pet, or a weird uncle?

Jack has begun to move from vowel sounds like "oooo" and "aaaa" to consonants like "mmmm."  We hear lots of "mmmm" in our house, clearly unrelated to my cooking, so I thought that "mama" was a shoe-in for Jack's first word.  All he would have to do is open up his little mouth after an "mmmm" and he'd have some semblance of "mmmmaaaaa."  No problem, right?

In theory, that's a pretty good approach.  In practice, Jack is going to say what he wants, when he wants to.  And right now, mama isn't in it.  Instead, he's decided to put the vowel in front of his "mmmm" so now he goes about exuberently shouting "EMMM!"  "EMMM!"

How cute, Jack has a favorite letter.  I'm really partial to R, but M is okay too.

And then yesterday, he did it.  He worked on "EMMM" for quite awhile until it evolved into his first word.  It was my birthday, so how fitting would it have been for him to finally say Mama?  What a beautiful present!

But not our Jack.  He decides to go for the surprise, the curveball, the unexpected.

Emma.  He said Emma.

Over and over again.  Emma, Emma, Emma.

Who the hell is Emma?  I know one thing - Emma sure isn't mama.

My theory is that Emma is his imaginary girlfriend.  My husband thinks that Emma is his imaginary wet nurse. 

Well, Emma.   You won the coveted prize.  You are Jack's first word.  You had better hope we don't meet in a dark alley, Ms. Emma, whoever you are.   

*I realize that favoritism isn't really a factor at all. But who among parents hasn't joked about being the "favorite" because baby chose to enunciate dada before mama?

Wordless Wednesday: Carrots

Mom, I love carrots. Eating them, wearing them - it doesn't matter to me. I just love them.

But Mom?  You really need to feed me faster. A growing boy can only wait so long between spoonfuls.  One second, maybe two, tops.  Step it up here, lady.

Mom!  I said I'm hungry.  Do you want me to feed myself?  I can, but it won't be pretty!

I can't believe you left this right here, right within my reach!  You're slipping, mom.  Totally slipping.

Got it!  Now, how does this thing work?  Are there instructions on the bottom?  The spoon usually just comes to my face automatically...it seems to be be broken today.









The answer must be in here...somewhere.  Maybe underneath all of these carrots?  Hmm, this is harder than it looked.

There we go!  That's how it's done!