All hail

Good news! We've gotten the all clear on Nicholas' ears. They've stayed clear for the past two weeks and he is good to go -- at least until next winter rolls around, but by then I hope that he will have outgrown that ear infection window. I have discovered this week that Nicholas has inherited the "camera ready" gene from me. I took this photo on Monday, more to document the hailstorm than anything else, and of course I was astounded that Nicholas hammed it up for me immediately with a "CHEESE" that would make anyone laugh hysterically. Owen was napping. (I envy how heavy a sleeper he is -- that hailstorm was SCARY, and the thunder shook the house.)

On Tuesday as I was heading out to do my errands, I saw three mountains of hail all piled at the end of the street. Apparently, our little pocket of Bergen got lots of hail. Now I know I am not an outdoorsy type, but this rain is RIDICULOUS! Ever read that Ray Bradbury story, "All Summer in a Day"? I'm starting to feel like the sun is only going to come out once every ten years. Seriously, you couldn't tell the difference between 7am and 7pm today. It was just gray o'clock.

Owen loved helping me in the kitchen this week. I let him lick the spoon of melted chocolate when I was making my YUMMY Fiber One cookies (sarcasm). It's a WW recipe. You melt a 12 ounce bag of chocolate chips and mix in one envelope of Fiber One. It makes 24 "cookies" (aka chocolate covered gerbil pellets). So obviously, Owen was not allowed any of the Fiber One -- he needs NO encouragement -- and I didn't want the temptation of all that pure melted chocolate, so lucky duck that he was, he got to indulge. Good news: Owen "clicked" with the "manners" and "sentence" lessons late last week. He now says "Mommy, may I please have..." when making a request. Of course, his first statement is "I'm hungry," or "I'm thirsty," or "I want a Backyardigans." But once prompted, he does modify and say "Mommy, may I please have a glass of milk?" (My favorite this week was "Mommy, may you please put Peter down?") On the glass half empty side of things, Owen's latest favorite word is "later," as in,
"Owen, it's time to use the potty."
"Later."
"No, now."
Stomp, arms akimbo. "LATER I SAID!"

Gee, I don't know where he gets that from...

I'm quickly learning the art of giving Owen choices to get what I want. I should have known this trick from my thirteen years of working with teenagers, but it didn't occur to me to use it with Owen. Here's how it works:
"Owen, you can walk upstairs to bed like a big boy or Mommy can carry you like a baby. Which do you want?"
"Walk upstairs like a big boy!"
"Good choice."
Or, for the higher maintenance moments:
"Owen, I can spank your heinie and then put your pajamas on or you can help me put your pajamas on. Which do you want?"
"I want to help!"
"Good choice."

On occasion, he does find a loophole, but it works reasonably well overall.

Peter is doing great. I never knew that babies could actually have a roll of fat between the bottom of their calves and the top of their feet, but Peter stores a spare little cellulite tire there. Why can't visible fat stores and public gas be cute for all ages? Why do babies have the market cornered on that? If these were popular for all, then I wouldn't be mixing a package of perfectly good chocolate chips with Fiber One.