You continue to be more and more talkative and get funnier by the day. Here are some of your current favorite things/funny things you do (and some pictures that are totally unrelated but are thrown in just because you are cute):
Favorite bedtime song: Edelweiss, from the Sound of Music. I am not sure why/when I started singing this to you (some time in late May maybe) and every night you beg me to sing you "ice". As soon as I am finished, you say "none, none" and hold up one finger, meaning "one more time, please". "None" started because before I read you your last book before bedtime, I usually hold up one finger and say "Ryan one more book", and you would hold up one finger and say "two". Quite the little bargainer you are trying to become. Recently though, I guess knowing you are getting one more only, you say "none". Your other favorite song of the month: If your happy and you know it. Your favorite "happy" things to do are: clap your hands, give thumbs up, say hooray (which is everyone's favorite to hear/watch), and wiggle your arms.
Favorite Yankee: "Je-Ta". It is ok that you don't know your name, as long as you know that your favorite Yankee is Jeter, you are good to go. Now, we need to start working on the Jets chant. It is almost football season after all.
Favorite saying: "I dit" You want to do everything by yourself and don't want help and say "I dit" (i'll do it) to let me know that. You say it ALL THE TIME.
Favorite food of the month: Waffles with applesauce on them. Daddy says that the only reason you have them with applesauce is because I hate syrup and refuse to give it to you (or give you dry waffles) and I guess that is true. Sorry that I made you a waffle weirdo! You love them so much that one day grandma was over and didn't know what you were saying and you kept pointing to the oven (I cook them in there) and then the freezer until grandma figured it out.
On the not cute or funny front: As time goes on, you have gotten wilder and more daring. This month marked our first (and hopefully last) trip with you to the emergency room (June 11). It was 6:45 a.m. and you were standing on the toilet seat, playing with the light switch and pulled your arm away and fell when I tried to get you down. You banged your head on the back of the toilet paper holder and started crying immediately. I picked you up and was hugging you to calm you down and then realized there was blood all over the back of your head. I was trying VERY hard not to panic (was not successful) but you were so strong and brave, calmed down very quickly and began playing with your cars again within minutes, your hair still matted down with blood. When Elizabeth came, I told her what happened and told her you got a booboo and I started crying - you saw me crying and came over, gave me a hug and then pointed to the scab I still had on my foot from when I dropped a chair on it a month before and you said "Booboo", seemingly worried about me and not understanding how worried I was about you. I decided that we should go to the hospital, just to be on the safe side. The doctor cleaned out the cut and said that he didn't think you needed stitches, but did give me a pamphlet about what to watch out for after an infant head injury. #1 on the list: Drowsiness. Yeah, thanks Doc, now that you see my child is about to take a nap, let me know to watch out for drowsiness. So then, I spent the rest of the day at work calling Elizabeth every hour asking such valuable questions like " Does he seem normal?", "Is he breathing?" "Are his eyes tracking properly?" I am surprised that she didn't tell me to stop calling to ask such stupid questions (another reason I love Elizabeth) but each time I called, she told me that you were fine and your head wasn't bothering you at all. After work, Daddy and I met you and Elizabeth outside and after Elizabeth left, the three of us walked home together. When we got closer to your house, you asked to get out of the stroller so we let you get out to play since you spent most of the day inside taking it easy (well, that is what you were supposed to be doing). Of course, you had to run, not walk and despite my screaming at you to stop and walk, you kept laughing and running and eventually tripped and fell. As I was about to start crying again for the 100th time of the day that you were again hurt, I watched you get up, brush the dirt off your knees which were then all scraped up, heard you laugh, and off you were again, running down the path. You are 100% boy, so amazingly tough and fearless- Part of me feels that it is fantastic that you are so tough and not a cry-baby at all, but at other times it worries me because you are so daring and have no fear and I am afraid that you will keep getting hurt. I wonder sometimes if as time goes on and daddy and I have more experience being parents, if we will worry less about you getting hurt. I am pretty sure the answer is no and that the type of worrying will just change.
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