Today Eamon and I were trying to walk up the stairs. He was holding: 1) his stegosaurus; 2) his triceratops; 3) his apatosaurus; and 4) his lion. It was utterly ridiculous.
At one point, of course, he dropped the stegosaurus.
"Of course you dropped the stegosaurus," I told him loftily. "You are holding too much in your hands. It is dangerous to try to navigate stairs with that many things and you really should know better."
He pointed to the stegosaurus, which had fallen down a stair. "Help," he said, wanting me to pick it up for him.
Which of course I couldn't do because I had a laundry basket crooked under one arm and a large suitcase in my other hand.
Epilogue
(because I know that some of you are wondering):
He finally managed to get the stegosaurus while not letting go of the other three things and then finished climbing up the stairs.
Moral #1: Mommy is slightly hypocritical.
Moral #2: Never leave a man behind.
Discussion Questions
1. Are YOU ever hypocritical? No? Good for you. You would make an excellent parent and should have a whole mess of babies right this instant.
2. If you were a dinosaur, what kind of dinosaur would YOU be? I'm voting triceratops. An herbivore, so technically still one of the good guys, but with a head that even T-Rex teeth can't pierce (source: Oh Say Can You Say Dinosaur (Cat in the Hat's Learning Library) Boo-yah, T-Rex.
3. Why does Eamon keep handing me the Pledge dusting spray while I am trying to write this? What is he trying to say? Doesn't he know that in this house, writing almost nonsensical blogs is far more important than dusting? Actually, this is more of a rhetorical question and I would prefer no one to comment on it because I can already feel your rays of judgment leaking through space, time, and the internet.
4. Do YOU think I need to be getting more sleep? Use three specific references from this entry alone to justify your position.
25 December 2010
22 December 2010
Define Intelligence
Hooray! Winter Break has started! And what better way to celebrate than to try out an IQ test on my dog, Nesta? Because...why not?
I looked up "Dog IQ test" online. That's right. I did research for this.
The first part involved hiding a piece of food under a cup to see how long it took Nesta to knock over the cup.
Easy enough. I showed Nesta the piece of food, made her sit, and then walked about a meter away (per the instructions, but I admit that I didn't actually measure it) and put the food under a plastic cup.
Nesta went right over to the cup. No tricking her there.
She nosed around it for about three seconds when Eamon, sensing trouble afoot, ran over screaming, "DOG! HELP!" He then launched himself at the cup, knocking it over and revealing the piece of food for the dog, who snapped it up.
He stood up, very proud of himself. He had Helped when someone was in Trouble.
The dog seemed proud of him, too.
So, I still don't know Nesta's official Doggy IQ, but I'll say this: she's got the boy well-trained.
I looked up "Dog IQ test" online. That's right. I did research for this.
The first part involved hiding a piece of food under a cup to see how long it took Nesta to knock over the cup.
Easy enough. I showed Nesta the piece of food, made her sit, and then walked about a meter away (per the instructions, but I admit that I didn't actually measure it) and put the food under a plastic cup.
Nesta went right over to the cup. No tricking her there.
She nosed around it for about three seconds when Eamon, sensing trouble afoot, ran over screaming, "DOG! HELP!" He then launched himself at the cup, knocking it over and revealing the piece of food for the dog, who snapped it up.
He stood up, very proud of himself. He had Helped when someone was in Trouble.
The dog seemed proud of him, too.
So, I still don't know Nesta's official Doggy IQ, but I'll say this: she's got the boy well-trained.
20 December 2010
Oh, Baby
In swim lessons this week, it all came together: Eamon figured out how to kick with his legs at the same time he was reaching and pulling with his arms. If only he was buoyant, he would have been swimming. He can hold his breath underwater, he jumps while standing on the side when you count to three, and is all around doing great.
Currently, Eamon is officially a Waterskipper, because that’s what kids are from ages 18 months to 3 years. At the age of three, they can enter the Sunfish class, which does all the same skills as Eamon has already mastered, and then after that comes the Tadpoles, where the kids finally get to go into the water without a parent.
So at the end of the lesson his swim instructor, Jennifer, asked, “When does he turn three?”
“Um, December 2012,” we told her. “He’s not even 2 yet.”
“Oh,” was her response.
The problem is, he swims like he’s three, but he still acts like he’s two. He might be almost able to swim, but you can’t always count on him feeling in the mood to follow directions.
See, most of the time Eamon is a wonderful kid. Last Sunday Eamon and I went out while Aaron watched football. We drove to the mall, walked around, had pretzels, and he was the best behaved little man. Everyone smiled at him and you could tell them were all thinking, “Wow, what a great little kid. Wish I had one of those.”
Then this Sunday, he had a case of the Terrible Twos. Instead of walking, he wanted to sit on the floor of the mall (ew). When I made him stand, he threw down his Lion. When I made him pick it up, he threw it at me. Suddenly, people looked at us like, “Wow, glad I don’t have to deal with him.”
Needless to say, we high-tailed it out of the mall, me carrying Eamon as quickly as I could, him crying because…I don’t know. Because I wouldn’t let him lie down in the mall? Because I wouldn’t let him throw his Lion at random people? It’s hard to say. All he would whimper was, "Home...home." So home we went.
When we got home, Aaron had already left to enjoy his monthly “Guy’s Night” at his friend’s apartment. Therefore, it was just Eamon and me. Everything I did seemed to annoy Eamon, and we were both just ready for a break, so I put on some Sesame Street, put him in his playpen with all his toys, and went upstairs to take a nice, hot shower.
As soon as I got out, I heard terrible screaming. I went downstairs, and Eamon was absolutely hysterical. He wasn’t hurt and nothing had happened to scare him…he just wanted to be held and hugged. Usually, he’s happy to spend some time on his own, but whenever I left the room the rest of the evening (to cook dinner, get his bath ready, etc.), he followed me with pathetic cries of, “Mimi? MIMI?”
And that’s when I realized: as hard as his being two is for me, it’s just as hard for him. Maybe harder.
He wants so much to be independent, but he doesn’t know how. Last night, he didn’t get a choice about running errands, or his daddy leaving, and so instead he tried to control the few things that he could: sitting when I wanted him to walk, throwing his Lion, etc..
And normally, Eamon goes down to bed without a hitch. Read him a couple of stories, say goodnight to all the pictures on his walls, put him in bed with his lion and a board book, and he’s quiet and drifts to sleep without fuss. Last night, though? I put him in his crib, told him I loved him, turned out the lights…and within seconds, he was crying again.
I wanted to get things ready for the next day, I wanted to check email, I wanted to read my own non-dinosaur book...but instead I sighed and went into his room. I picked him up and took him to my bed for a snuggle, quietly promising him over and over that tomorrow would be a better day.
Currently, Eamon is officially a Waterskipper, because that’s what kids are from ages 18 months to 3 years. At the age of three, they can enter the Sunfish class, which does all the same skills as Eamon has already mastered, and then after that comes the Tadpoles, where the kids finally get to go into the water without a parent.
So at the end of the lesson his swim instructor, Jennifer, asked, “When does he turn three?”
“Um, December 2012,” we told her. “He’s not even 2 yet.”
“Oh,” was her response.
The problem is, he swims like he’s three, but he still acts like he’s two. He might be almost able to swim, but you can’t always count on him feeling in the mood to follow directions.
See, most of the time Eamon is a wonderful kid. Last Sunday Eamon and I went out while Aaron watched football. We drove to the mall, walked around, had pretzels, and he was the best behaved little man. Everyone smiled at him and you could tell them were all thinking, “Wow, what a great little kid. Wish I had one of those.”
Then this Sunday, he had a case of the Terrible Twos. Instead of walking, he wanted to sit on the floor of the mall (ew). When I made him stand, he threw down his Lion. When I made him pick it up, he threw it at me. Suddenly, people looked at us like, “Wow, glad I don’t have to deal with him.”
Needless to say, we high-tailed it out of the mall, me carrying Eamon as quickly as I could, him crying because…I don’t know. Because I wouldn’t let him lie down in the mall? Because I wouldn’t let him throw his Lion at random people? It’s hard to say. All he would whimper was, "Home...home." So home we went.
When we got home, Aaron had already left to enjoy his monthly “Guy’s Night” at his friend’s apartment. Therefore, it was just Eamon and me. Everything I did seemed to annoy Eamon, and we were both just ready for a break, so I put on some Sesame Street, put him in his playpen with all his toys, and went upstairs to take a nice, hot shower.
As soon as I got out, I heard terrible screaming. I went downstairs, and Eamon was absolutely hysterical. He wasn’t hurt and nothing had happened to scare him…he just wanted to be held and hugged. Usually, he’s happy to spend some time on his own, but whenever I left the room the rest of the evening (to cook dinner, get his bath ready, etc.), he followed me with pathetic cries of, “Mimi? MIMI?”
And that’s when I realized: as hard as his being two is for me, it’s just as hard for him. Maybe harder.
He wants so much to be independent, but he doesn’t know how. Last night, he didn’t get a choice about running errands, or his daddy leaving, and so instead he tried to control the few things that he could: sitting when I wanted him to walk, throwing his Lion, etc..
And normally, Eamon goes down to bed without a hitch. Read him a couple of stories, say goodnight to all the pictures on his walls, put him in bed with his lion and a board book, and he’s quiet and drifts to sleep without fuss. Last night, though? I put him in his crib, told him I loved him, turned out the lights…and within seconds, he was crying again.
I wanted to get things ready for the next day, I wanted to check email, I wanted to read my own non-dinosaur book...but instead I sighed and went into his room. I picked him up and took him to my bed for a snuggle, quietly promising him over and over that tomorrow would be a better day.
I hope it is.
15 December 2010
What's in a Name?
This is our usual conversation on the way to my parents' in the morning:
EAMON: :::weird fish noise:::?
ME: Yes, we're going to see Grandpa.
EAMON: Nini?
ME: Yes, we're going to see Grandma.
EAMON: Deedore?
ME: No, no dinosaurs. You know you can't watch dinosaurs until after your second nap.
EAMON: Deedore aw gone?
ME: Yup, dinosaurs all gone.
EAMON: Aw gone?
ME: Yup.
EAMON: (thinks) More?
ME: No, no more until after your second nap.
EAMON: (pauses) :::weird fish noise:::?
And on it goes. It's not the most intellectual of conversations, mind you, but it fills the drive.
The most interesting part of the conversation is that I know that he's thinking more than that. And while he adds more and more words every day, and is communicating so much better since he had the frenulum surgery, I know that his brain is still developing faster than his mouth will allow.
I know this because not only does the child know all 26 letters and most of their sounds, and not only can he identify all numbers through 10, but today from the backseat, my parents heard this monologue:
EAMON: E (clap) A (clap) M (clap) O (clap) N (clap)
The funniest part of this? If you ask Eamon his name, he'll just smile at you. He can't say "Eamon." It comes out like "Eeeem," and he doesn't approve of this mispronunciation (which is kind of hypocritical, since he still calls my father this weird fish noise, but whatever).
Now, he's not reliable with the spelling yet. He did it in order that one time, but tried it again a couple of times afterwards and either left out letters or got the order mixed up. And though on the car ride home from my parents' today, he was reliably singing "M (clap) O (clap) N (clap)" in the right order...but my point is that it's not like he's ready to write any sonnets anytime soon.
Nevertheless, I cannot help but wonder if one day, a stranger will ask his name, and instead of "Eamon," we'll get the "E-A-M-O-N" as a response. It will make for some very interesting conversations if he decides to just spell everything to get around the speech issues.
Until then, though, let me reiterate, Eamon: The deedores are still aw gone. Sorry.
EAMON: :::weird fish noise:::?
ME: Yes, we're going to see Grandpa.
EAMON: Nini?
ME: Yes, we're going to see Grandma.
EAMON: Deedore?
ME: No, no dinosaurs. You know you can't watch dinosaurs until after your second nap.
EAMON: Deedore aw gone?
ME: Yup, dinosaurs all gone.
EAMON: Aw gone?
ME: Yup.
EAMON: (thinks) More?
ME: No, no more until after your second nap.
EAMON: (pauses) :::weird fish noise:::?
And on it goes. It's not the most intellectual of conversations, mind you, but it fills the drive.
The most interesting part of the conversation is that I know that he's thinking more than that. And while he adds more and more words every day, and is communicating so much better since he had the frenulum surgery, I know that his brain is still developing faster than his mouth will allow.
I know this because not only does the child know all 26 letters and most of their sounds, and not only can he identify all numbers through 10, but today from the backseat, my parents heard this monologue:
EAMON: E (clap) A (clap) M (clap) O (clap) N (clap)
The funniest part of this? If you ask Eamon his name, he'll just smile at you. He can't say "Eamon." It comes out like "Eeeem," and he doesn't approve of this mispronunciation (which is kind of hypocritical, since he still calls my father this weird fish noise, but whatever).
Now, he's not reliable with the spelling yet. He did it in order that one time, but tried it again a couple of times afterwards and either left out letters or got the order mixed up. And though on the car ride home from my parents' today, he was reliably singing "M (clap) O (clap) N (clap)" in the right order...but my point is that it's not like he's ready to write any sonnets anytime soon.
Nevertheless, I cannot help but wonder if one day, a stranger will ask his name, and instead of "Eamon," we'll get the "E-A-M-O-N" as a response. It will make for some very interesting conversations if he decides to just spell everything to get around the speech issues.
Until then, though, let me reiterate, Eamon: The deedores are still aw gone. Sorry.
12 December 2010
Joie de Vivre, I Think They Call It
What I find funny is the fact that Eamon is almost hyperventilating in this video.
As for what he finds funny...
As for what he finds funny...
I have no freakin' clue.
But whatever it is, it's one of the things that I love most about him.
06 December 2010
An Illuminating Experiment
Research question: How will a 23 month old (specifically, Eamon Wolfe) feel about fireworks?
Importance of the research question: Eamon has never before seen fireworks. Fireworks are cool. We hope he likes them.
Hypothesis: If we take a 23 month old (Eamon Wolfe) to see the fireworks at Grand Illumination in Colonial Williamsburg, then he will enjoy them.
Independent (manipulated) variable: The fireworks at Grand Illumination in Colonial Williamsburg
Dependent (responding) variable: Whether he will like them
Possible confounding (extraneous) variables: The weather is expected to be very cold (lows in the upper 20s). We will therefore attempt to control for these variables by dressing Eamon very warmly. This leads into the bigger issue, however, of whether Eamon will put up with being dressed very warmly.
Materials: Diaper, socks (2 pair), pants, white long sleeve t-shirt, red flannel shirt, blue sweatshirt, "bubble" coat (see A Christmas Story), winter boots, mittens, hat, wool blanket, large stroller, Lion
Procedure:
1. Ensure long nap for child so he can stay up an hour past his bedtime (fireworks are from 6:15-6:45ish; takes about an hour to get home with traffic)
2. Dress child warmly. Attempt not to laugh as he tries to walk with his new winter boots, which are heavy and go up higher than he is used to, therefore causing him to walk like a miniature Frankenstein.
3. Leave house around 4:45 after prying Aaron away from the Cowboys-Colts game
4. Drive to Williamsburg, find a parking place, put on the rest of Eamon's accoutrements, including his hat (he left it on!), his mittens (he left those on, too!), and his bubble coat ("I can't put my arms down!" NOTE: Not an actual quote from Eamon; see A Christmas Story)
5. Allow Eamon to walk from Bruton Heights (the parking lot) into the historic area. Note that in order to navigate his boots in non-Frankenstein manner, he has compensated by picking up his feet really high, and therefore march-running. Again, try not to laugh.
6. When it gets darker, child will no longer want to walk by himself (note: he might try to spend the entire evening in the vending machines area because it is lit). Therefore, put in stroller.
7. Walk child up and down Duke of Gloucester Street to enjoy the burning cressets, fife and drum band, and general aura of merriness and good cheer
8. Be ready for fireworks at 6:15 by Gaol area. Drape Eamon in blanket, whether he wants it or not.
9. During the first firework, bite lip and stare anxiously at child for his reaction. Breathe a sigh of relief when, after said first firework, he signs and says, "More? More?"
10. Go back and forth between watching the fireworks and watching the look in the child's eyes as he enjoys fireworks for the first time.
11. At the end of the fireworks, sit in traffic for half an hour before making it out of the parking lot. Go home, put exhausted child to bed. Declare it all a Victory.
Results/Observation/Conclusion (poor methodology, but I am lazy): Child appeared to enjoy fireworks, even if he did watch them all over the head of his Lion. Decide to go to Grand Illumination every year, in manner of new Family Tradition.
Importance of the research question: Eamon has never before seen fireworks. Fireworks are cool. We hope he likes them.
Hypothesis: If we take a 23 month old (Eamon Wolfe) to see the fireworks at Grand Illumination in Colonial Williamsburg, then he will enjoy them.
Independent (manipulated) variable: The fireworks at Grand Illumination in Colonial Williamsburg
Dependent (responding) variable: Whether he will like them
Possible confounding (extraneous) variables: The weather is expected to be very cold (lows in the upper 20s). We will therefore attempt to control for these variables by dressing Eamon very warmly. This leads into the bigger issue, however, of whether Eamon will put up with being dressed very warmly.
Materials: Diaper, socks (2 pair), pants, white long sleeve t-shirt, red flannel shirt, blue sweatshirt, "bubble" coat (see A Christmas Story), winter boots, mittens, hat, wool blanket, large stroller, Lion
Procedure:
1. Ensure long nap for child so he can stay up an hour past his bedtime (fireworks are from 6:15-6:45ish; takes about an hour to get home with traffic)
2. Dress child warmly. Attempt not to laugh as he tries to walk with his new winter boots, which are heavy and go up higher than he is used to, therefore causing him to walk like a miniature Frankenstein.
3. Leave house around 4:45 after prying Aaron away from the Cowboys-Colts game
4. Drive to Williamsburg, find a parking place, put on the rest of Eamon's accoutrements, including his hat (he left it on!), his mittens (he left those on, too!), and his bubble coat ("I can't put my arms down!" NOTE: Not an actual quote from Eamon; see A Christmas Story)
5. Allow Eamon to walk from Bruton Heights (the parking lot) into the historic area. Note that in order to navigate his boots in non-Frankenstein manner, he has compensated by picking up his feet really high, and therefore march-running. Again, try not to laugh.
6. When it gets darker, child will no longer want to walk by himself (note: he might try to spend the entire evening in the vending machines area because it is lit). Therefore, put in stroller.
7. Walk child up and down Duke of Gloucester Street to enjoy the burning cressets, fife and drum band, and general aura of merriness and good cheer
8. Be ready for fireworks at 6:15 by Gaol area. Drape Eamon in blanket, whether he wants it or not.
9. During the first firework, bite lip and stare anxiously at child for his reaction. Breathe a sigh of relief when, after said first firework, he signs and says, "More? More?"
10. Go back and forth between watching the fireworks and watching the look in the child's eyes as he enjoys fireworks for the first time.
11. At the end of the fireworks, sit in traffic for half an hour before making it out of the parking lot. Go home, put exhausted child to bed. Declare it all a Victory.
Results/Observation/Conclusion (poor methodology, but I am lazy): Child appeared to enjoy fireworks, even if he did watch them all over the head of his Lion. Decide to go to Grand Illumination every year, in manner of new Family Tradition.
02 December 2010
Things that Make You Go RAWR!
Cast your mind back...way back...to 1988.
Are you there?
Are you back in the world of brightly colored shoelaces, folded-over jeans, and crimped hair? It was a simpler time, when Capitalism was unabashedly "the American Way", and Don Johnson ruled the Earth.
Lots of important things happened in 1988. I, for instance, turned 8. My wonderful husband turned 16 (though, and I state for this legal reasons, he was not my husband at that time, and we would not meet for another 13 years when it would be perfectly respectable, thank you very much). George Bush the First was elected, the Winter Olympics took place in Calgary, and Celine Dion won the Eurovision Song Content for Switzerland (because OF COURSE she did).
But the most important thing? More important than ANYTHING ELSE?
This movie came out:
Do you remember?! Do you remember the magic of that movie?! Of the dino kids trying to make it to the "Great Valley" after Little Foot's dying mother tells him he can get there by following the "bright circle" (sun) in the sky past the "burning mountains" (volcanoes)?!
Yeah, me neither.
(On a side note, I am pretty sure that using all the synonymous phrases was an attempt to keep the talking dinosaurs' speech as realistic as possible).
Now, I know all this because I just looked it up on Wikipedia. That is because I am a "good mother" who is trying to "keep up" with her son's "new obsession": dee-DORES! (dinosaurs)
The start to this obsession was 2-pronged. Firstly, the Virginia Living Museum had an exhibit on dinosaurs. The first time Eamon saw the exhibit, he played only with the lights and completely ignored the dinosaurs themselves, but subsequent visits made more of an impression.
Then, at some point, my parents, bless their hearts, bought Eamon a copy of The Land Before Time. It was either the movie or the animated series. (Not sure which, needless to say that they now possess any and all versions, I believe).
Like the museum exhibit, the first time he watched the movie (series?), it was not a hit. In fact, it scared him.
You see, those scrappy little dino kids? They keep getting into trouble. Rock slides, quick sand, scary "sharp tooths..." there are just so many dangers in animated Jurassic times. The first time he watched it, my parents had to turn it off, and reassure Eamon that "the kids" would be okay.
He's a little more mature about it all now that he's seen the videos a few times. When things get really scary, he just covers his ears.
"Why is he covering his ears?" I asked my parents today during one episode.
"Because it's scary," was the reply.
"Then why doesn't he cover his eyes?"
"Because then he can't see when the scary part is over."
Hmm.
Anyway, I am hereby declaring this to be Eamon's first Real Obsession. Lions didn't really count...because he's really more obsessed with one lion--his lion--in particular. Other lions...not so much. Then there was Sesame Street...but I don't really count that either because we're the ones who introduced him to it, and he was only obsessed because it was all that we let him watch for awhile.
But dinosaurs--dee-DORES--he came to on his own. He owns this obsession.
And it's not just The Land Before Time, either. It's ANYTHING dinosaur related. If he sees a dinosaur in the store, his cries of "Dee-DORE! Dee-DORE!" ring loud and clear. He likes dinosaur action figures, stuffed animals, and books.
How do we feel about this obsession? Well, The Land Before Time is kinda hokey, but I love that he's interested in something so...well, scientific. Like: you can actually LEARN something with this obsession. There are worse things, right?
And don't tell Eamon, but I'm already planning a Dino-cake for his birthday. He's gonna flip.
Or possibly just RAWR really loudly.
Are you there?
Are you back in the world of brightly colored shoelaces, folded-over jeans, and crimped hair? It was a simpler time, when Capitalism was unabashedly "the American Way", and Don Johnson ruled the Earth.
Lots of important things happened in 1988. I, for instance, turned 8. My wonderful husband turned 16 (though, and I state for this legal reasons, he was not my husband at that time, and we would not meet for another 13 years when it would be perfectly respectable, thank you very much). George Bush the First was elected, the Winter Olympics took place in Calgary, and Celine Dion won the Eurovision Song Content for Switzerland (because OF COURSE she did).
But the most important thing? More important than ANYTHING ELSE?
This movie came out:
Do you remember?! Do you remember the magic of that movie?! Of the dino kids trying to make it to the "Great Valley" after Little Foot's dying mother tells him he can get there by following the "bright circle" (sun) in the sky past the "burning mountains" (volcanoes)?!
Yeah, me neither.
(On a side note, I am pretty sure that using all the synonymous phrases was an attempt to keep the talking dinosaurs' speech as realistic as possible).
Now, I know all this because I just looked it up on Wikipedia. That is because I am a "good mother" who is trying to "keep up" with her son's "new obsession": dee-DORES! (dinosaurs)
The start to this obsession was 2-pronged. Firstly, the Virginia Living Museum had an exhibit on dinosaurs. The first time Eamon saw the exhibit, he played only with the lights and completely ignored the dinosaurs themselves, but subsequent visits made more of an impression.
Then, at some point, my parents, bless their hearts, bought Eamon a copy of The Land Before Time. It was either the movie or the animated series. (Not sure which, needless to say that they now possess any and all versions, I believe).
Like the museum exhibit, the first time he watched the movie (series?), it was not a hit. In fact, it scared him.
You see, those scrappy little dino kids? They keep getting into trouble. Rock slides, quick sand, scary "sharp tooths..." there are just so many dangers in animated Jurassic times. The first time he watched it, my parents had to turn it off, and reassure Eamon that "the kids" would be okay.
He's a little more mature about it all now that he's seen the videos a few times. When things get really scary, he just covers his ears.
"Why is he covering his ears?" I asked my parents today during one episode.
"Because it's scary," was the reply.
"Then why doesn't he cover his eyes?"
"Because then he can't see when the scary part is over."
Hmm.
Anyway, I am hereby declaring this to be Eamon's first Real Obsession. Lions didn't really count...because he's really more obsessed with one lion--his lion--in particular. Other lions...not so much. Then there was Sesame Street...but I don't really count that either because we're the ones who introduced him to it, and he was only obsessed because it was all that we let him watch for awhile.
But dinosaurs--dee-DORES--he came to on his own. He owns this obsession.
And it's not just The Land Before Time, either. It's ANYTHING dinosaur related. If he sees a dinosaur in the store, his cries of "Dee-DORE! Dee-DORE!" ring loud and clear. He likes dinosaur action figures, stuffed animals, and books.
How do we feel about this obsession? Well, The Land Before Time is kinda hokey, but I love that he's interested in something so...well, scientific. Like: you can actually LEARN something with this obsession. There are worse things, right?
And don't tell Eamon, but I'm already planning a Dino-cake for his birthday. He's gonna flip.
Or possibly just RAWR really loudly.
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