Happy Halloween!

GrandBoy seems happier as a FDNY fireman than he did last year as a monkey. Happy Halloween, everyone!

A Duck, a Cow, a Rembrandt

The time has come to clear the refrigerator door and stock up on magnets. I got my first GrandBoy artwork in the mail yesterday. From personal, parental experience I know that this is just the beginning of wonderful little creative endeavors too precious to throw away.

Several boxes of his mama's crayon, fingerpaint, potato print, and glitter+glue creations are taking up space in the family's basement. Yes, I tossed out a lot over the years, but some are just too precious to consign to the trash heap of history. I'm especially touched by anything with her early attempts at writing her name. Awwww. How can I throw those away?

Now it's time to employ my art curator skills again, this time for the Grand. So this first precious duck-cow picture, made with his own sweet little handprints, has pride of place - center of the fridge door. Fortunately, I have a full-size refridgerator.

Drivin' or Cryin'

GrandBoy wants to drive. Unfortunately, he's only 19 months old.

This is frustrating for him - frustrating to the point of tears and toddler-fits sometimes. His vocabulary is coming along, but he hasn't mastered the word for driving. Or cars. Or trucks. Or any vehicle that catches his eye. All of those things are lumped under one double-barrelled word: Doo-doose.

Doo-doose. Not sure of the spelling, but we all know what it means when he sees a big truck on the freeway or a tractor in a field. Doo-doose! And we really know what it means when we're trying to get him into or out of a car, or when he's upstairs pointing at the door leading to the garage, and he spits out: Doo-doose!

Now, doo-doose - er, driving - to Liam mostly means sitting in the driver's seat moving the steering wheel back and forth, or trying to push keys into the ignition, or pulling the visors and lighted mirrors up and down, pushing every single button on the dashboard, opening and closing each storage compartment. Yet, he never wants to pass up an opportunity to have full run of the front seat of a car. Perhaps it's because he's always tied down in his car seat well away from the front.

A few weeks ago we were at my nephew's wedding at a Florida resort, and poor GrandBoy lost it every time he saw a golf cart. And there were lots of golf carts. Last weekend we went apple-picking, and while he enjoyed that adventure, GrandBoy was completely beside himself when he got to sit in the driver's seat of a big blue tractor.

We figure he's got a bright future as a race-car driver. Or a trucker. Or a farmer. Long may he doo-doose!