Rocks or Zoos?

I took Toby to the zoo this week. Without Rob. It was a total of 1h45 min driving for 1h30min of zoo time. Plus the rushed 30min in the morning to get him sunscreened, dressed, fed and packed and his lunch prepped for the car ride home. The zoo itself was a hit - -I spent the time racing after him as he ran from animal to animal and then attempted to get himself rammed by the goats in the petting zoo. I tried over and over to teach him the word goat but he was too busy to catch on. I was very glad be joined by my friend Lindsay and her two boys. We then had 3 pairs of eager feet to catch and the added enthusiasm for pony rides and the playground. (They had been there before…) Wowzers. It was a fun but BUSY morning.

That afternoon, still recuperating from the morning outing, Rob and I decided to take a last minute drive to Maxwell Landscaping to pick up some slate rocks for our back patio.

And I thought the ZOO was a hit.

Toby was in HEAVEN. He emerged out of the car to a vast landscape of rocks, concrete, stones, cement and gravel in varying size piles with the odd truck and backhoe to boot. AND, in case you think it couldn’t get any better, it does. This whole blissful acreage faced GREY ROAD 4. And you know what’s on GREY ROAD 4…..

Trucks.

And Cars.

Toby was so excited he couldn’t get his feet to go at first. He stood on the spot raising his feet in the air in alternate succession as his little boy brain plotted which pile of stone he would head for first.

He spent the next 30 minutes racing between piles of stone and banging on the tops of the ones he could reach. He challenged himself to carry as MANY rocks as he could without toppling over. His feet only ever stopped to point out and admire the passing trucks and his exuberant smile only faded briefly to question the beeping of the reversing backhoe that caught his attention. He fell numerous times and even took the skin off one of his fingers but that even that didn’t slow him down. My child is a boy to the BONE.

After DRAGGING him away from the site to go inside and pay for our slate, I started to contemplate WHY I had spent my day off getting up early, packing, driving for hours and chasing him around the zoo when I could have enjoyed my morning coffee and leisurely made my way 5 minutes down the road to take him to his ULTIMATE fantasy park – the rock landscaping place in the sprawling metropolis of Maxwell.

But my daydream was cut short by my son’s voice. As he pointed earnestly to the salesman he triumphantly announced, “GOAT!”

….Turns out we ALL learned something that day….

Thank God for Raisins

Whoever invented raisins MUST have been Catholic…

I am proud to say that all 3 Henry family members made it through Toby’s first Catholic mass on Sunday. Ok, it wasn’t his FIRST Catholic mass (I hope no one from Rob’s side of the family reads this blog…) but it was his first Catholic mass since he has been walking/talking/letting-the-world-know-EXACTLY-how-he-feels-about-sitting-still-in-a-confined-pew-for-an-hour.

This past weekend, our Godson Xavier was baptized in Chatham, Ontario. With us being the Godparents, cowering at the back of the church with our vocal child wasn’t an option. We were front and centre the whole time. But the beautiful thing about Catholic church is that no one cares. There’s no daycare- -kids are fully welcomed and even EXPECTED to be there and making noise. Although Rob and I did a lot of “shushing”, no one really seemed to CARE that Toby was holding his own private loudest-shriek competition in the front row, OR that he was using the kneeling bench as a trampoline. That’s just par for the course.

The FUNNIEST moment was when the Homily was said. This is a very serious moment in Catholic masses. The Priest comes to the podium accompanied by two white-robed candle bearers and the congregation stands at attention while performing some fancy hand movement (I think it’s the sign of the cross) over various parts of their face. It was all very still and serious, and the precise moment when Toby decided to point out to everyone who the man at the front was.

“Dada!”

NO, it wasn’t Rob. That’s just what he calls people before he learns what their real names are.

But I got to hand it to him…he WAS correct.   Just that's he's not quite verbally sophisticated enough to use the term "father" yet.

At the end of the day, we were saved by a lowly box of raisins. Not only is the little box intricate enough to require at least 30 seconds of hand dexterity to get it open, but it requires great finger coordination to extricate the trickly little sumptuous raisins from the package. Which all adds up to at least 5 minutes of quiet concentration on Toby’s part. Which (again, another perk of the Catholic church) is about the length of the homily.

It was a beautiful service and we were both proud and honoured to be named Godparents to the sweet sound of our healthy son’s protests…

Trying to have an adult conversation....

I have been trying hard recently not to use a “baby voice” when I talk to Toby.  I really admire my friend Dayna who talks to her daughters without changing the tone of her voice or the words that she uses.  They always seem to have such normal, adult conversations,

“Maya, would you like to have raisins as a snack or crackers and cheese?”

“No, I don’t feel like raisins today, maybe just some cheese and crackers for now”

as opposed to MY meal time conversations with Toby,

“BA BA!! BA BAAAA!BAAAAAAAA BAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!"

“TOBY! There are NO MORE blueberries!  Eat your apple…MMMM….nummmy nummy nummy apple…mmmm”

(mommy pretends to eat apple and enjoy it before putting some on Toby’s tray)

“NOOO!!!   BAAA BAAAAAAA!!!!! BAAAA BAAAAAA!!!!!”

(Toby throws the apple on the floor)

So tonight I tried my hand at adult talk with Toby.

When he triumphantly discovered his toy wooden hammer (thank you again for that, mother) behind the throw pillow on the couch, I took him into my lap and calmly explained to him that I had hidden it there because he was banging it on inappropriate things like the glass table and the window and people.  This was just before he clocked me in the face with it.

I then calmly explained to him that mommy was going into the freezer to get ice for her face because of her sore cheek.  Which he then grabbed and squeezed between his chubby little fingers.

Well, that was enough of that. 

“Whooooose ready for bath time?  Mommy is! IS Toby? Time for ba-ba!” 

…Maybe I’ll try again next month….

 

Hide and Seek Triumphs

Toby has just started to play hide and seek.   I’m sure for most people the milestone of hide and seek play seems pretty basic, but it’s one of my favourite developments so far.  It not only means that he has grasped the concept of object permanence, but it also very sweetly demonstrates that he knows who we are and that life is better when we’re all together.   A typical game involves one of us hiding behind the bathroom/bedroom door or on the floor behind the couch/kitchen counter while Toby counts to 10 (with some assitance) while closing his eyes (with LOTS of assistance).  He then very sweetly emerges from his bedroom and tiptoes around the house singing in a soft sweet voice, “Dada? Da-da!”  I usually participate by singing in an equally melodic (but not quite so sweet) song “Where’s Da-ddy?”  until we find him.  And then the sweet, soft singing gives way to loud shrieks and laughter as he runs circles around the living room in hide-and-seek-champion-victory laps. 

 

But why SHOULD he be humble about his hide and seek skills?  He really is QUITE advanced in H+S play…in fact, to illustrate this to me further, he has taken the game to the next level by sometimes initiating the game on his own without my assistance...The other day I walked into the living room to find Toby “hiding” in the middle of the room.  Believe me, it wasn’t the inability to see him that indicated he was hiding, but more the fact that he was singing to me, “La-la-la!” to the same tune that I usually sing, “Where’s Da-ddy!”  And when I exclaimed, “There you are!!” (mustering up my best surprised expression) he dissolved into laughter and raced around the room.  (Another sure sign that he’d been hiding.)  He has found other LESS obvious spots to hide than the middle of the room.  Sometimes he stands by the window, sometimes he sits on the floor.  But you can always tell its H+S by his stillness and the devilish expression in his eyes….and, of course, the singing is a dead giveaway everytime…

 

I have a feeling the game may need some fine tuning before daycare starts in September…

Near Death Bath Experiences

A few weeks ago, when we got home from an extended 2 week visit at my parents’ house, Toby discovered that his bath at home is nothing like the bath at Grandma’s because it is missing the anti-slip-pads that Grandma’s has on the bottom.  So a few times since coming home he has slipped in the tub while doing *innocent Toby-ish things in the bath, like trying to climb onto the ledge, trying to bang on the windows, or tying to run to the other end of the tub…. He quickly discovered that not only does slipping in the bath create a huge SPLASH but it also elicits an exciting reaction from mommy and daddy.  And SOMETIMES if you’re REALLY lucky you end up flat on your belly with a mouthful of water.  All of which is extremely funny.

 

So tonight, at bathtime, Toby decided to MAKE himself fall.  He discovered that if he stood up and shuffled his feet around enough he would eventually fall.  Hard.  In the tub. 

 

We TRIED to convince him that this wasn’t a funny game.  And we also tried not to encourage this potentially deadly activity by laughing or reacting at all.   But watching him stand there with his arms out in eager anticipation of a fall, while trying his hardest to get his feet to slip was quite funny.   The huge splash at the end which covered both of us AND the entire bathroom with water was NOT so funny.   And, of course, the potential for injury….it makes this a very difficult situation NOT to react to.  If Toby could talk I’m sure one of his first comments would be about our unfortunate lack of a sense of humour …

 

After a few successful falls in the bath, he soon decided to add an extra element of danger to his routine.   Falling just wasn’t that much fun if you didn’t get water in your mouth.  SO he started landing on his bum and then THROWING himself face first into the water while inhaling.  Yes, this DID result in coughing fits, watery eyes, sneezes and some breathing difficulties.  Did this discourage him?  Of course not.  Did it make NOT reacting to his behaviour more difficult? Of course….

 

I always knew that a kid can drown in the tub in an inch of water if you leave them alone.  What I DIDN’T know is that they can ALSO drown in the tub with both of you less than a foot away with your arms outstretched and your eyes never leaving them for a second.   Six months ago I was scared of viruses and the common cold….today my daily fear is the dreaded bath time.  I’ll keep you posted….

My Tough Kid

Every now and then, amongst the chaotic days of picky eating, tantrums and non-stop moving, emerges a day when Toby shows us that he really is one tough kid.  Such a day occurred last week when we took him to my office for his 15-month shots.   (Don’t do the math.  Please.)

 

For those of you who DID the math, we were a tad on the late side so instead of waiting for an appointment we just decided to take him into my office and have Mel (our nurse) do the shots. 

 

As always, I was nervous.  I don’t know WHY seeing it’s my JOB to give kids shots. But watching Toby get his makes me feel nauseous.  So we have developed a great system.  Rob takes him to the appointment, goes in with him, holds him for his shots and then I come in at the last minute and give him an it’s-all-better-hug. Works perfectly.  The kid loves me.

 

So this time I was sitting at my desk pretending to do paperwork just WAITING for the wailing to start (which is my cue to come in with the it’s-all-better-hug) when I heard some clapping and some laughing from the room and then Mel came out --smiling.  And then Toby and Rob came out—SMILING.

 

Apparently, my tough kid had sat there quietly throughout the entire thing.  He WATCHED Mel as she plunged the first needle into his little arm and then, without batting an eye, watched again as the second needle went in.  In fact my motherly it’s-all-better-hug was REJECTED by my tough kid as he huffed and puffed to me that he had SOMETHING to SHOW me.  Very calmly, with his non-immunized arm he pointed to his now-band-aid covered injected arm; SOMEONE had put BANDAIDS on it.  The nerve.  He was NOT impressed.

 

After apologizing to him for agreeing to let someone plaster him in band-aids and telling him that he was indeed a very brave boy, I convinced him that an it’s-all-better-hug was still a good idea.  And it DID make me feel better.

 

After they’d left I turned to Mel (who, for the past few months, has endured my daily lamentations about the constant uncooperativeness of my son) and shrugged my shoulders.  Mel responded with a pat on the back, “They always make a liar out of us.”