Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
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M. Giant's Velcrometer Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks |
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Monday, May 29, 2006 Play Date M. Small had a play date on Saturday. A couple of friends of ours, who we hadn't seen in a very long time, have a son who's almost the exact same age as M. Small. Most of the contact we've had with each other over the past couple of years consists of pictures of each other's kids on our refrigerators. We'd been trying to get the boys together for a play date for months, but if there's anything harder to coordinate than the schedule of the parents of a toddler, it's the schedules of the parents of two toddlers. But we finally made it over there this weekend and they met for the first time. They look like they could be cousins: both blonde, blue-eyed, fair-skinned, smiles that make you want to give them things. They practiced playing together and sharing, and did pretty well. A.R. especially, because it was his house and his stuff. M. Small did recognize a few of the toys that he also has at home, including the little thing with four balls that you roll through, even though his only has two that we haven't lost. The two kids do, however, have different strengths. A.R. has more words than M. Small -- for instance "water" for water, whereas M. Small calls all beverages "milk." Plus A.R. can do impressions of family members, which we need to get on top of soon. M. Small, on the other hand, is rapidly becoming what you might euphemistically call a "climber." Actually it wouldn't even be a euphemism, because he recently took up the new hobby of scaling chainlink fences. One keeps one's hands ready to catch him if he falters, but one finds this less and less necessary. After they spent a little time together, we noticed them absorbing each other's strengths. A.R.'s parents noticed him being a little bolder physically later in the visit. By the same token, after A.R. went to bed, M. Small uttered his first-ever complete sentence that doesn't begin with "I want:" he looked at A.R.'s dad and said, "Where da baby go?" Trash said they'd be good for each other. A.R. would soon be having intellectual discourse with his parents, while M. Small, A.R.'s dad said, would be saying, "Okay, here's how we're going to knock over the armored car." So when we left, we all pretty much agreed that we'll have to do this again soon. M. Small didn't say so in so many words, but his "Where da baby go?" is a pretty clear indicator that he had a good time. posted by M. Giant 7:34 AM 3 comments 3 Comments:
A climber, eh? Here's something that I think is super-kewl: going to the climbing pinnacle at the REI in Bloomington, and seeing the tiny lil' four- and five-year-olds ascending three stories up. With climbing harnesses, of course.
By Go, M Small! From little tiny baby to super climber in a matter of months.
By I am sorry, but M. Small is NOT old enough to say things like"Where da baby go?" nor is he old enough to climb a FENCE. What have you done with the real M. Small?
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