At 20 months Milo is primarily doing two things: talking up a storm and reverse engineering all his toys. This is one (of many) reasons we can never own a gun - he would figure out how to completely assemble it in minutes. And he'd probably turn a simple handgun into something far more potent and destructive. But knowing him, he'd use it for good, like to help overthrow Assad.
I'm happy he's so mechanically-minded. Someone in this house is going to have to learn to fix things, and it certainly won't be me or that other WRITER who lives here.
He is talking non-stop. He loves to count to ten and sing the alphabet and write his name in the tub with bath crayons. He is a budding copywriter, having coined his own slogan for nursery ("Nursery: Girls! Boys! Toys!"). I love being able to actually have little conversations with him.
Bathtime is probably the highlight of his life. Like his mother, he loves being in the water. Like his father, he'd take impossibly long baths if given the opportunity.
He remains an easy and mild mannered kid, but one who will not sit still. He is the social one in the family. He wants to say hi to everyone, including the employees of the grocery store. He routinely greets inanimate objects. Hi cup. Hi diaper. Hi iPad.
When it comes to food, he loves the good stuff - dark chocolate, cheese (including bleu?), Indian food, homemade bread. However, his taste in literature and film leaves something to be desired. (Thomas the Train? BORING. Even Alec Baldwin's narration can't save it. And where did RINGO?) And Elmo. Holy smokes, Elmo. That little red shaman has some magical pull over toddlers that I don't quite understand.
Two points of conflict/interest:
He is asking to be toilet-trained. Ok. I wasn't going to attempt this yet, but I think I need to run with it. Oi vey.
He's already showing interest in women. Or more accurately, in "pretty lad[ies]". He points them out constantly.
We watched White Christmas last month and when Rosemary Clooney came on the stage in her Veronica Lake dress and evening gloves, he stood up, entranced. He ran upstairs and came back 30 seconds later with socks. Jared and I looked at each other confused at this action. He then proceeded to try to put them on his hands. "Oh" we realized. "He wants to wear evening gloves." We helped him put his socks on his hands while he ran up to the tv screen and said "preettty laady."
However, he's showed no signs of interest in Liza Minnelli or Barbara Streisand, so I think he's genuinely into women, and not just evening gowns.
I'm happy he's so mechanically-minded. Someone in this house is going to have to learn to fix things, and it certainly won't be me or that other WRITER who lives here.
He is talking non-stop. He loves to count to ten and sing the alphabet and write his name in the tub with bath crayons. He is a budding copywriter, having coined his own slogan for nursery ("Nursery: Girls! Boys! Toys!"). I love being able to actually have little conversations with him.
Bathtime is probably the highlight of his life. Like his mother, he loves being in the water. Like his father, he'd take impossibly long baths if given the opportunity.
He remains an easy and mild mannered kid, but one who will not sit still. He is the social one in the family. He wants to say hi to everyone, including the employees of the grocery store. He routinely greets inanimate objects. Hi cup. Hi diaper. Hi iPad.
When it comes to food, he loves the good stuff - dark chocolate, cheese (including bleu?), Indian food, homemade bread. However, his taste in literature and film leaves something to be desired. (Thomas the Train? BORING. Even Alec Baldwin's narration can't save it. And where did RINGO?) And Elmo. Holy smokes, Elmo. That little red shaman has some magical pull over toddlers that I don't quite understand.
Two points of conflict/interest:
He is asking to be toilet-trained. Ok. I wasn't going to attempt this yet, but I think I need to run with it. Oi vey.
He's already showing interest in women. Or more accurately, in "pretty lad[ies]". He points them out constantly.
We watched White Christmas last month and when Rosemary Clooney came on the stage in her Veronica Lake dress and evening gloves, he stood up, entranced. He ran upstairs and came back 30 seconds later with socks. Jared and I looked at each other confused at this action. He then proceeded to try to put them on his hands. "Oh" we realized. "He wants to wear evening gloves." We helped him put his socks on his hands while he ran up to the tv screen and said "preettty laady."
However, he's showed no signs of interest in Liza Minnelli or Barbara Streisand, so I think he's genuinely into women, and not just evening gowns.
