See LO In the Funny Papers

After the somber tone of my last post, I thought I'd follow up with some of the ways that LO has proven himself to be a nut with a capital K lately.

Hamburger Head

All afternoon on Sunday, I kept asking J why LO's head smelled like a hamburger. J kept accusing me of having been bitten by a zombie. Finally, when we went to a friend's house for dinner that night,  I discovered a stiff patch of ketchup in the child's hair. LO tends to view his hair as a handy-dandy napkin and had eaten a ketchup-centric lunch, so this made sense.

We didn't arrive home from our friend's house until late, so LO skipped a bath that night, keeping the eau-de-hamburger-condiments lingering about his head through Monday.

Monday evening, LO threw such an epic flip out at bath time that J gave up on the cleansing of the child prior to reaching the all-important hair washing.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why my son smelled of hamburger for three days straight.
(Rest assured, he's had a bath since then, though.)

Taking Turns

LO's school requested that each family keep a framed family picture in the classroom to help the kids remember what their parents look like during the daily four hour absence. Two weeks ago, when I went to pick LO up, he came running to me, our family portrait in hand, and gave it to me. I was touched to see that he was comforted by it.

Apparently, there was more to it than that. All day that day, LO had carried our picture around with him. When he went down the slide, our picture went down first. Then he'd pick us up, send us down the slide again, and follow in our frame-tracks.

I'm pleased to see that he's internalized our lessons about taking turns. I just hope he offers three-dimensional companions the same courtesy.

Kiddy Cat

The cat carrier lives in the basement, but we had not yet gotten a chance to put it away on Tuesday. LO discovered how to open the door and started to climb inside, which of course horrified his slightly-claustrophobic mama. Nothing was left outside but the young man's feet by the time I got to him, and I began the exercise in futility that is attempting to coax a creature of any species to exit a cat carrier when it does not desire egress.

The child was in need of a bath (see hamburger head, above), so the ever-practical J just picked up the carrier and carried it into the bathroom. Because of course, carrying things was what the product was made for.