Ronan: Tom, let's go play trains. You and me.
Tom: No, sorry, I need to work now.
Ronan: Well, you could play trains and work at the same time, bring your computer (Tom has a laptop, Ronan knows Tom can move it anywhere).
Tom: Sorry, guy, I can't do both things at the same time. I need to concentrate.
Ronan: Well, you can just work later and play trains now.
Tom: No, I need to work now. Later I need to have dinner, help you with a bath, take shower, and go to bed.
Ronan: You forgot reading books to me!
Tom: Right! And reading books. So I won't have time to work then, I need to do it now.
Ronan: But Tom, you really don't want to work. You don't like working now. So play trains.
Tom: Uh…well, you might be right, but I need to work. If I don't work, I don't get money. I need money to buy food and toys.
Ronan: Well, I have money.
Tom: You do?
Ronan: Sure! It's in my kitty bank. I can buy toys with that money.
Tom: I don't know if that's enough money. I still need to work now.
Ronan: Well, how about I work for you, and you play trains.
Tom: Dude, I think you need to go to school for many years to do my work.
Ronan: But I already know how to do your work.
Tom: I really don't think you do.
Ronan: Sure, I do. I just press buttons.

oh, dear.

Dec. 4th, 2009 12:19 pm
Ronan: "There's poop!"
Me, checking, "There's no poop!"
Ronan: "yes, there is. It came from outside. A squirrel pooped in my butt. It's there. And bugs and birds pooped. And nemo fishes. In my butt. They all pooped in my diaper."

I mean, what can I say to that?
This morning, Ronan walked outside and said, "Oh, it's cooler today. Soon we will need warm sleeves. It's gonna get cold! Sweatshirt weather!"
I like that my kid has a varied palate. Sure, there's some days when he only wants popsicles and hot dogs, but overall, he'll eat just about anything.

Some of his favorites:
Chicken enchiladas verdes--even when I accidentally grabbed the salsa verde made with jalapenos and not tomatillos.
Pasta with mushrooms and garlic.
Grilled peppers & onions.
Sausage of any sort (spicy, sweet, buffalo, chicken).
Brown rice wraps with spicy mustard, smoked cheese, spicy hummus, and whatever meat I have on hand.
Nachos.
Baba ganouj.
Chicken curry.
Pesto pizza.
Pickled asparagus.
Roasted green beans.
Broccoli.
Miso-marinated asparagus.
Kale. Any way, but especially raw, straight from the garden.
Stuffed peppers.

I'm sure he's been exposed to a lot of flavors via the old boobjuice, but he continues to try new things. He's finally interested in dipping and dairy, so he'll eat hummus, cheese, sour cream, etc. :)
During one of our rainy weeks, I noticed that Ronan had worn a hole in the sole of his latest pair of Riley Roos. Now, I knew the hole was coming--leather soles just don't last forever, especially when grandma and daddy let a toddler ride a bike or toy on asphalt or concrete--but I was hoping they'd last another month.

Anyhow, his sock was getting soaked and his only other pair of shoes are high tops (converse knock offs from Old Navy) that don't let his ankle flex as much as I'd like. In other words, if he runs flat out in the high tops, he comes back inside with very large lumps on his forehead.

We go through a lot of arnica gel.

Anyhow, Target has toddler converse. I'm generally opposed to being sucked into certain brands. But the soles are flexible enough to bend in one hand. And they came in red. So I bought him a pair. My tiny child fit into toddler size five. FIVE. This is unbearably tiny, but the fit was good, not too tight, not too loose, toe room.

He nursed non-stop last weekend through the week. And ate tons more. I was hoping it was a developmental growth spurt and it was, to some extent. He's now rhyming, creating nonsense words. And trying to do pull-ups. Hanging from anything that seems sturdy, whether or not it actually is. He no longer requires me to spot him on the chain ladders at the park. He climbed *down* one today while I was engaged in conversation with someone else. (Hey, if my garden thrives on benign neglect, why not my child?)

And those shoes are now much harder to get onto his feet. Lace up shoes are harder to slip into by their very nature, of course, but sheesh. I'd hoped to get more than a couple weeks out of these. They fit once I get them on, so not all is lost.

I suppose I need to get a picture of him before he outgrows them. I have a feeling he might need a new pair before we get back from Indiana. Oy.
rootofnewt: (cooking)
Around noon, I tossed a couple pounds of mostly thawed bison short ribs into the crockpot, on top of a chopped yellow onion and a chopped sweet onion. Turned it on high. Added a generous amount of blueberry chipotle bbq sauce. When I saw that there was little condensation an hour or so later, I poured in a bit of water to get it going.

Around 4:30, I turned it to low and added a couple cans of small white beans (drained). Went to the pool, came home at 7ish, turned it back up and stirred in a cold cornstarch slurry until it thickened nicely.

Yum.

We'll find some veggies sooner or later.

Ronan's been watching Michael Jackson videos from time to time, though we had to turn off the TV for awhile when he got carried away with the spinning dance moves and kept hitting his head on things (train table, rocket, floor).

He's really enjoying dancing, though.
To address my touched-out-ness, we frequently count to ten or twenty before nursing. It lets me get settled and Ronan enjoys it.

He *can* count to ten, but prefers to repeat after me. If I ask him what comes next, he usually says "TEN! BOOBIES!" Sometimes, though, it's "1, 2, SEVEN!" or last night, "3, FOURTEEN!".

And then he'll count to himself later, nonsensically.

My child, umprompted, counted to eleventeen last night. It comes after twenty, it seems.

*cracks up*
This morning's waking-up convo:
Ronan: MaMa poops. Baba. Poops!
Me: yeah! They poop!
Tom: They might poop here!
Me: They're going to poop in our house! Daddy's gonna poop in the yard! *farts*
Tom: Mani just pooped in bed!
Me: *glares*
Ronan: Jerry pees yard!


I don't know if that's his first three word sentence, but we're amused.
I use nutritional yeast on greens, popcorn, pasta . . . and since Ronan won't eat cheese, but likes savory flavors, I add it to his brown rice.

Well lately, he's been requesting it:

"yeast on not dog."
"yeast. apphmm sauce?"
"yeast. onions."

Yes. My kid. He eats yeast flakes on anything. Hot dogs, applesauce, dried green onions.

And just now . . . "yeast tings?"

wow. Tings with extra yeast. Yum.
Ronan is displaying symptoms of his first earworm.

"Habanera" from Carmen. The Beaker/Swedish Chef version.
Tom wins Father of the Year.

I was cackling. I admit it.
You know, it would be nice if the cones and signs out front gave a reason (or a department responsible) for tomorrow's street closure (7a-5p). Fortunately, the nice lady at City Hall's customer service desk was happy to call around to get an answer.

Paving. Tomorrow. Oy. Oh, well. At least I can be expect to hear heavy machinery and asphalt grinding at 7am. It's easier to adjust when you know it's coming.

I don't think I mentioned, but we had an 18mo well baby visit for Ronan. He's 32" long, 21.1lbs, and 19" head circumference. He was weighed clothed, so he's probably not gained in six mo, but he's grown three inches! We had his iron tested, too, because the office will do a finger prick, unlike UVA's lab which failed to get a vein in four stabs back in May. His hemoglobin is perfectly normal, so we're not going to worry about lead. If his iron were low or even low normal, we'd have to go let them strap him down and torture him for a vial.

Anyhow, my kiddo is still on his curve, which is something like 15-20th percentile for height and 5th percentile for weight. He seems to be catching up to his head, too. Maybe he won't be a bobblehead, after all.

Ped also mentioned chicken pox is making the rounds, so we should keep an eye out for spots. He's also researching vitamin D options for winter, but was glad to hear that Ronan gets plenty of sunlight. (And so do I, so my breastmilk is not likely to be deficient. I tested great for D several months back.)
Title says it all, y'know?
My child hates hamburgers but loves spicy grilled okra.
Things Ronan brings to us to eat:
Just Green Onions
bags of peppercorns

We dish some out for him. We kinda figured natural consequences--not everything is good to eat. It backfired. Dried green onions are tasty, it seems, and black/green/white peppercorns are even yummier. So at least once a day, we hear the familiar clip clop of a crawling baby bringing us a clamshell of dried herbs.

He gets mad when we don't dish out the huge bag of splenda (baking bag, bought when I was baking sugar-free goods for the man-beast's birthday) he drags out on a near daily basis.
My child absconded with his father's keys. I found him in the kitchen, intently studying the highchair, trying to figure out how to turn a hexbolt with a Ford key.
Ronan loves balloons and can spot them from blocks away. "boon! BOON! boonboonboon!" He points and leans and bounces excitedly. We often buy him mylar balloons. They not only come with kick-ass heavyduty clips (nice for chips), they don't contain rubber. "Boon! Boon!" I can't get past the checkout without talking about balloons.

He also uses it for the moon.

Of other interest are balls. Any ball. He'll bounce and reach toward the ball. Dog toys, his toys, any ball.

Round buoys? "Ball."
Hanging toys for monkeys? "Ball ball!"
Food toys for bears? "BALL!"
The large, round, red car barriers at Target? "Ball!"

I'm not sure, but I think he called out "ball" after seeing a series of puffballs in a neighbor's yard last week.
We went to the Philadelphia Zoo today.

Ronan on elephants: dog!
Ronan on rhinos: Dog!
Ronan on goats: dog!
Ronan on petting an actual goat: dogdogdogdogdog!
Ronan on wild dogs: *silence*

Ronan on ducks: DUCKS!
Ronan on an ibis: duck!
Ronan, not looking at bears, but pointing at random ducks: DUCKS!
Ronan at the playground, pointing on a bumblebee bouncer thing: duck!

Ronan on a passing dumptruck: steetah!
Ronan, not looking at monkeys: *points up at barely visible airplane* steetah!
Ronan, looking past prairie dogs at an elevated track and passing SEPTA rail: steetah!

Ronan on a very large hognosed turtle: gape-jawed awe
Ronan on seeing his uncle petting a cockroach: disgust and trepidation
Ronan on chickens: absolute glee

Ronan on the nocturnal animal exhibit: daadee-ee! *paws at my shirt*

It was apparently time to nurse him. Yes, he calls me daddy. *sigh*
Ronan's first composition and performance!

December 2016

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