I really don't like one-syllable names. I don't know why; they just seem incomplete to me. What makes that especially funny is that I live with two people who have one-syllable names. (And one of those people has a name that *I* suggested! Exception proves the rule, I guess.)
So if you hear me repeatedly calling my husband "Scott, dear," it's not because I am that affectionate toward him. It's just that his name throws off the rhythm of my sentences.
Meanwhile, the baby is always "Baby Tad" instead of just "Tad." (Except insert his real one-syllable name.) I'm not sure what I'll do when he's no longer a baby; "Tad, dear" sounds almost as bad with his real name inserted.
In the past few weeks, Tad has mastered cross-crawling, sitting independently, and pulling to a stand on furniture. Just last night he was standing up with help from the recliner and managed to lower himself onto his bottom instead of falling over dramatically once his arms got tired. I clapped and made much of him and he laughed.
This week's new foods: Coconut oil (used to scramble eggs), canned pear, baked potato (no skin). He only liked the pears. But he also likes chewing on the furniture, so his taste is questionable.
|OM NOM NOM PEARS|
Last week we had a small crisis because I managed to lose my car key in between getting the last load of groceries out of the trunk and depositing them upstairs. It could have been worse; I could have lost it before removing the baby or the perishable groceries.
Anyway, Eldest Younger Brother was able to bring Scott home from the bus stop, and then Scott found his spare key, and then a couple of days later found MY key in the trunk. Well, sort of in the trunk. The trunk has a rubber seal around the edge and outside that rubber seal is a little groove and somehow my keys had fallen in there. I have skills, you guys.
A couple of days after the key-losing incident, Tad and I went to a babywearing meetup. This confirmed for me that he definitely knows his own name. I can't test whether he knows it because he turns and looks at me when I say anything. But we went to the meetup and a lady who knows me came up while he was facing the opposite direction and said, "Hi, Tad!" and he snapped around and looked at her suspiciously.
I made these brownies for a snack yesterday and now it's 8:21 a.m. and I'm wondering when I can eat some more. Anything with 4 eggs in it totally counts as a breakfast food, right?
(Update: I lasted until 8:38)
And now I should wrap up this post because Grace has arrived and we are going out for "coffee" which really means dessert. MOAR CHOKLIT PLZ.
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