What a Week Can Do

I was out of town this week and I swear my son grew. He also turned 19 months (Michael had to correct me when I said 18 last night).

He also learned how to initiate patty cake. Started doing it himself during my Welcome Back, Mommy dinner at Chevy's last night.

He has gotten even better at building with blocks.

And he's more regularly asking for the dogs by names - if their names are Body and Miphy.

AND he's sitting still on the changing pad now ... IF you let him pull it out from under the bed, and also let him open the cabinet to pull out the diapers and wipes.

And, finally, he was even more full of overgrown blond cowlicks than when I left, I swear. So off we went to Cool Cuts today.


This ideallyic scene belies the chaos that is about to ensue upon Ms. Nikki's first snip.



Does he look like he's plotting a giant struggling fit?

I couldn't get any photos of the main event because I was too busy pinning his arms down.

After much screaming and many giant crocodile tears, Ms. Nikki accomplished her goal and my son's head is tidy again. Followed by new, equally pathetic tears when I tore him from the Thomas the Tank train playset in their waiting area.


We left the shop with me leading him reluctantly by the hand, through the parking lot, him bawling and telling me "No, no, no, NO!" like I was tearing his little 19 month old heart right out.


NOW I get why kids are spoiled. Because, especially after work pulls you away more than you like, you just want to make them happy. And you'd do anything to avoid a face like THIS.