Gametes In Love

While I’m thrilled that G is learning how to undress himself on his own, I wish he didn’t figure this out while we were at a restaurant out for dinner :-/

You know what I like about G’s current age? He doesn’t know how to lie… yet. I know this too will come soon enough, but for the time being I find it useful (and amusing) that when I ask him a question about him being naughty, he doesn’t fib about it.

Example 1: G wants a water bottle. (This is after it was taken away from him for spilling water all over his tray)

Me: Are you going to drink it? Or spill it?

G: Spill it!

Me: Ok, I’m sorry. Not right now. How about you take this napkin and help me wipe down the table instead. Clean, clean!

Example 2: G and L are throwing food on the floor after lunch. After everything in front of them has found a new home, floor-side…

G: Mo’

Ms. J: Are you guys going to eat it?

G: No!

Ms. J: Ok, no thank you!

In a way, this is all pretty helpful. If I know his intentions, at least I know if I’m willing to deal with the reprocusions of his actions.

Unfortunately, his honesty is cutting into his fun… but I’ll take it as long as I got it!

If you have a girl, let me tell you the types of conversation you might be missing out on…

G: (after dinner lets one rip). (GRIN!)

G: Fa-at

Me: Did you fart?

G: (giggle) Fa-at. Again!

Me: You want to fart again?

G: HAHA!

Yeah, we’ve got the boy topics covered over here. And yes, for the  record this was at the dinner table, which qualifies as 1) talking about farts; 2) toilet humor at dinner. It’s a 2 for 1 evening.

As of about two weeks ago, every once in awhile you’d overhear G mumbling and reciting things to himself that sounds like “G, F, P, T”. At first S and I looked at each other perplexed: “Is he saying the alphabet?” I mean, it sure sounded like it. Then I asked Ms. J if they’ve been doing the alphabet at school. Sure enough, they’d been singing the alphabet song a lot, which is neat. Of course in G’s mind, F & G come after P, but you know… neat.

Then last week something weird happened.

When I dropped G off at school, I let him walk through the parking lot. On the side of the playground fence, there’s a big sign that lists the school name, their open hours and number. Well, G stops at the sign, points to the P in Puma, and says “P!”. Then he points to the “O” in “Open:” and says “O!” Here is where mommy’s eye brows get raised and she’s getting ready to have a mild heart-attack. Luckily, he then pointed to the letter “E” and said “P!” again, which made me feel a bit better.

But he’s doing more of this, and getting more of the letters correctly. This week (and I’m taking S’ word for this as I didn’t witness it myself), G spent some quality iPad game time on a letter recognition game and was getting most of them correctly.

I’m proud… and scared. You see, I spell things out for S all the time. It’s my “secret code”. Original, no? You know… when you don’t want to say “smoothie” right before dinner in front of toddler years. Well, if this child is learning his letters before 2, what is he gonna do? Spell and ruin my top-secret encryption mechanisms at 3? I need a new secret code.

Meanwhile, go G!

When G turns 2, he will graduate to the preschool room at daycare. It means a big kid with big toys, and big words. It means letters and numbers, and circle time, and the big kid playground.

And I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m having a hard time parting with the wee baby that fit hand to toes in the crook of my arm, and acknowledging that that wee baby is the one that now runs like a crazy man from room to room in nothing but a diaper. I feel like these last 2 years couldn’t have possibly gone by this quickly. And that room transition is just making it too real for me.

It also means no more Ms. J and no more Ms. S, who I am really, really going to miss. They have been so sweet and wonderful to this little man. I will miss talking to them about his day. I will miss getting to know them better. In some ways they feel like family, and it’s just hard to say Good-Bye to people like that.

G on the other hand is ready to go. Transition for the kids starts a month before their birthday. They go in for a few minutes at first, then hours. G went in and didn’t want to leave. He wanted “big kids”. It was hard bringing him back, and legally they can’t keep him there until 2, so they decided to delay the transition. Instead they’ll do it over the last week before he has to be there full time. That week is next week. And as of Aug 30th, our little dude is officially in pre-school. PRE-SCHOOL, PEOPLE!!!

Ms. S said that once the kids move over to the other room, they become too cool to play with their toddler teachers. They just don’t want to. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones talking, but that simply breaks my heart. G calls after Ms. S when he sees her in the parking lot. His face lights up when he sees his Juju. I just can’t imagine that he’ll want to turn his back on them and not want to play with them anymore. I told Ms. J, that the toddler room needs to be like the boy band Menudo — the kids can only leave when they grow facial hair. She liked that idea!

I know S2 will be going in that room next year, and I have 2 more years around these wonderful people, but I’m still sad. The teachers in the next room are just as awesome, and his tuition drops too. There are lots of things to look forward to, I assure you, but I’m still not ready. I’m not ready to say good-bye, and I’m not ready to have a kid in pre-school.

So… which one of you has the time machine? I need the pause button hit. Pronto!

I don’t think Gamma’s camera stopped taking pictures last week-end while she, Gappa & Auntie P hung out with G. She took over 300 shots. I’ll subject you to 12 🙂

Carseat was hungry. G was happy to share his cheerios

Babies in cubbies

Ponytail Friday (Porcupine style)

From G’s first Caltrain trip

Waiting on the train: it’s not as fun as it appears

Tain comin’

The ride

How G plays baseball.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWtDoDxxD0Q]

(he hasn’t figured out yet that someone else needs to pitch him the ball… but hey — he made contact once)

G can count. To 10. I don’t know about you, by this blows my socks off.

Tonight as we were cleaning up toys after his playdate with Special K, I was picking up his stacking cups. I counted, 1, 2. He then added 3. I said 4, then he added 5. We went all the way up to 10 (with him only not pronouncing 8, but knowing 9 comes next). S was watching it all, and while my jaw was dropped, he said “Oh yeah, he can do this. He just won’t do it when you ask him to.” We did this approach to counting 3 times in a row.

All this means is that I get to stalk him with my video camera now. Who knows when he’ll do it again.

But the boy can count.

Lazy week-end mornings. Dino jammas, and one super cute bootie.