Speaking of our morning walks, in the past two months Lucas and I have traveled 84 miles together. That is 84 miles of pushing his little red tricycle in sun and rain and dump truck dust, 84 miles of identifying the color of each car we pass and explaining the "WHY?" to the car's color [answers often include, "Pink might be the only color that car comes in," "Maybe the owner just likes green things," and "Perhaps the car feels fancy."], 84 miles of feeding Cheerios to birds, 84 miles of songs and games of I Spy and inane conversations about why car doors open and sometimes downright inaccurate factoids ["Tree stumps eat at night."]. Good times.
I have been trying to point out to Lucas the wonder of the soon-to-be-upon-us fall weather and how it affects nature. I show him trees that we pass every single day and try to show him how the leaves are changing colors. I point out the red and yellow and orange and brown leaves that are starting to pop up here and there and he will humor me and nod along with subdued excitement. And then he will shout out, "GREEN! Tree! GREEN." Yes, Lucas, but the RED... Sigh. The kid just doesn't get it.Lucas's vocabulary continues to grow in leaps and bounds. He is still a man of one-word sentences, but they are pretty effective in making us understand what is going on in his head about 48% of the time. He is also finally picking up some verbs which has allowed him to begin narrating his life in real time. Sit. Turn. Stop. Wiggle. Stomp. Go. Tackle. Hug. The word and action go hand in hand. And he demands that you acknowledge each time he does each action. "Wow, you're sitting again? Who would have thought?!"
Jason and I often call Lucas "stinkoman," usually for pretty obvious reasons. He doesn't seem to mind and often takes up the cry himself with "tinkamahn!" But, alas, as we've learned over the past few weeks, stinkoman is apparently a two-way street. Now, if I call him Stinkoman, he will enthusiastically call me Stinkomama for five minutes. The unfair part? If Jason calls him Stinkoman, Lucas will still call me Stinkomama. WHAT ABOUT STINKODADO? Yet another lesson in Life's Not Fair.In less stinky news... I love Lucas. I love him more than just about anything. We like to play a game of, "I love you more than...!" Lucas and I sit on the floor and he shouts out objects and I confirm that I do indeed love him more than the object. An incomplete list of things that I love Lucas more than is as follows:
- Cups
- Trucks
- Food
- Books
- Puma
- Magnets
- Tables
- Cars
- Pens
- Water
- Basketball
- Crayons
- Orange dozer
- Chairs
- Balls
- Floor
- Windows
- Shadows
- Helicopters
- Dirt
Dado is the one exception. Lucas seems to understand.
And to wrap up this little collection of Lucas tidbits, here's my closer: The other day Lucas was feeding me Cheerios. Don't ask me why. It was just very important to him at the moment. Anyway, he was feeding me Cheerios one at a time and I was dutifully munching away, not paying much attention by the 20th Cheerio except to routinely say, "Another? Thank you." Well. He pulled another Cheerio out of his little bag, started to put it in my mouth, paused to sneeze on it, and then fed it to me. My life is glamorous, you guys. I wouldn't trade it for anything.Jason will blog again one day soon. Promise.
