Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Bad, Bad Bunny

Dear Little Trip,

It seemed like a good idea at the time: A sweet photo of my precious babe sitting sideways on the lap of a plump fellow in a fluffy bunny suit. Alas, I do believe there was an 80 pound old lady in that costume. She kept yanking on the mittens because the thing was so big. The matted fur on her arms and legs flapped like the poor bunny had gastric bypass and still needed some nipping and tucking. And the fan blowing on her brought to mind the fact that she was probably sweating like a pig in that loose, furry contraption.

On the plus side, you toddled right over like you hung out with giant furry animals every day. Mostly you were just interested in molesting the straw in the water glass stashed by the bunny throne. I secretly thought, "Take that, Ugly Bunny! You mock Peter Rabbit? My child will contaminate your straw with his grubby little hands!" Then I forked over $17.99 for a 5x7 and she probably had the last laugh.

But really, your GQ pose required a purchase, even though we had to take off your 42$ new Stride Rite shoes because you could not look at the camera with those things on your feet.

So here you are my little friend. A precious, suave one year old in a sweater vest and an 80 pound old lady in a bunny costume that could star in a bad acid trip.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Lean and Green

Dear Little Trip,

The weather is warming up and we have been enjoying a lot of outside time in the last couple of weeks. The expensive stroller has been officially abandoned in favor of the little red plastic car. You love it so much that whenever we carry you down the front stairs to leave the house, you try to spring from our arms into the loving embrace of said plastic vehicle.

There is a specific protocol that must be followed when traveling via little red plastic car. First, you ride in the car traditional style, hands on the wheel, waving at humans, and sometimes trees and houses. When a doggie, bus or truck comes withing a 50 foot radius, it is time to lean precariously out of the little red plastic car and grunt in wanton desire for aforementioned doggie, bus or truck.

After a lap around the park, it is time to leave the safety of the little red plastic car and do some toddling. This is a good time to check out sticks, dirt, grass and most importantly..you guessed it, the little red plastic car. It is critical to inspect the car from every angle, to open and close the yellow trunk, caress the blue wheels and jiggle the seat belt.

Next is the actual pushing of the little red plastic car. Mostly you push it from the front, but sometimes you change it up and attempt to push it from the side (not very effective) or the completely unreachable Big Head handle (usually results in well padded fall to ground).

After you are appropriately dirty from this phase of the protocol, it is time to be bribed back into the little red plastic car with the promise that you can hold Mama's keys. These keys are held lovingly for about five minutes, and then they are dangled precariously over the side of the little red plastic car until we arrive back home, with Mama hoping that she does not miss the moment you decide to drop them on the trail, thus leaving us with no way to get back into our house.


Check out my sweet hair blowing in the breeze. If Donald Trump and Charlie Brown merged and grew out a mullet, that would be my hair.


Birth to walking: 11.5 months. Walking to running: 11.5 days.


Crawling still useful when you want to be close to possible ground scores though.


Maybe something new is in the trunk since the last time I checked (14 seconds ago)?


Training for the World's Strongest Man Contest 2029.


Yelling = big fun for boys.


Dada, we are pushing the car this way. No arguing with the one-year-old.


On your marks, get set...


Brief snuggle time between eating dirt and caressing little red plastic car.


I'm not naming names, but one of these people does not care to take a photo with the spectacular, wild growing Cala lilies.


Oma and Opa even found me a fire truck to play with. That is kind of like a little red plastic car.....just bigger. And not plastic. Must get shiny bell for little red plastic car.


We celebrated St Patty's Day with Lilz and her Big Heads. I had big plans for a super cute photo of the two of you in your green, sparkly hats, but alas....Lilz had a little drama with an unwelcome meeting of a snapping elastic hat band and her precious face and the moment was gone. Maybe next year!


The McCutie is McCranky about the hat.


Dress up over right about now, Mama!


Pretend Lilz and Trip are standing next to each other in their hats, maybe hugging and smiling.


I can't even tell you how big a bite of corned beef is in that sweet mouth. After I noticed you were still chewing it five minutes later, it was time to go in and retrieve it.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Snoozin, swimming and swollen.

Dear Little Trip,

My poor sweetie. We had a big day recently and didn't get a full nap in (I may have been more sad about that than you). We sat down to dinner and you seemed perfectly fine. I looked away for about six seconds, and when I turned back you were completely conked out. So pitiful and adorable at the same time.


Mama, these chicken and dumplings are borrrrrrrrrriiiinnnnggg.

On a happier note, it is Girl Scout cookie time again!!! We broke out Daddy's favorites (Tagalongs) and as we enjoyed a cookie (or two or four) you bore holes into our souls with the whines of longing until we gave you one. Which you promptly put into your mouth whole. Followed by snatching Daddy's cookie from his hand and putting that into your mouth. Also whole. Really, I was a little bit proud. You are truly my child, at least when it comes to cookies.


Peanut butter, chocolate and cookie all in one? I'm in!


I'll just gracefully shove the whole thing in my mouth so that no one will take it away.


Now I will convince you that I need another. STAT.


What? I have room in here for more.

And here is a look at what the kitchen looks like while you help with dinner.


I clean this mess up at least three times a day.

On a really, really, really awful note, we had our first (and hopefully last) bad fall a couple days ago. You fell down an entire flight of hardwood stairs. It was the worst sound I have ever heard and one of the scariest moments ever for Dada and me. Time seemed to stand still and fast forward at the same time as I raced to get you. The doctor pronounced you OK and did not outwardly question our parenting abilities, but you have a couple ugly bruises on your forehead. You fall a lot every day. You bump your head a lot too. These are the trials of a toddler, I know, but when this happened I realized what a complete minefield the world is for you. All the baby proofing and eagle eyes in the world can fail sometimes. And I truly hate that. Little T, we are so sorry this happened. Hope you forgive us. And hope you won't score lower on your SATs from the bump and miss out on Harvard Law School, thus starting a cascade of events that leaves you working in a factory making Girl Scout Cookies. Or maybe that wouldn't be so bad, at least for Mommy.


Still cute when black and blue.

We started a swim class today. Oh you had so much fun!!! And of course you were fearless in the water. You warbled along to the songs and splashed up a storm. Also, I am proud to say you did not poop in the pool. If someone does, they have to end the class and close the pool for the rest of the day. This is a lot of pressure on Mommy to get the swim diaper size correct.

Check out my two pack, bro!


And just because I think it's cute....


Neekid housekeeping! You are terrified of the vacuum. Unless, of course, you are naked. Then it is powerless against you.