Connor Connor Connor Connor Connor - was absolutely delightful. He giggled, laughed, snuggled, played and led me around with the old finger-pull trick like a puppy on a leash. Up the stairs, down the stairs, into the dining room, out to the garage. And granny followed where ever he led.
He amazed his admiring Granny; after we tooted our paper horns at each other he threaded my paper tube into his paper tube. This seemed to me like a complex mathematical engineering feat that he did with out being introduced to the theory, but that bloomed of his very own deductive reasoning. I'm not smart enough to know why this was a great leap forward, but I am smart enough to know it was.
What a great evening; we tooted horns, gnawed on elbows, climbed the stairs, rode the rocking horse and clanged the trains around about.
I watched him put his little rubber frog boots on the wrong feet, so I pulled them off to correct it and he kept trying to put them on the wrong feet -- repeatedly. And then it was as if a grand illumination hit his wee firing synapses brain and he thought, well okay, you are right and he put them on the right feet and took off. He loves his rubber frog boots.
I saw him ride his trike around the garage. I saw him cry when bike riding time was over. He loves that trike. I saw him attack, and attack is the only word I can think of that describes his fascination over his mom's new car. He moved every button, lever, switch, or control in attack mode. He watched me watch him mess with the switches. I still don't know if her loves the car, the controls or granny watching. Too too funny.
The boy was all boy last night.
The boy is thriving, maturing.
The boy is growing up.
Potty training starts Monday. Well, we'll see.
