Owen has been trying much harder to do things for himself. I know a lot of kids are dressing and undressing themselves by this time but he has been perfectly content to let me do everything for him and since he’s my first and I haven’t been too busy to do it…I’ve done everything for him. This week he has decided that he can put his own shirt and pants on. He does a good job and even when he’s tangled up he doesn’t usually get too upset or want me to help. Yesterday during our “training” time he needed a clean pair of underwear and I told him where they were so that he could attempt to put them on himself. The next thing I knew he was running back to me saying he needed help but he didn’t have the underwear. He was just in his shirt. I said go get the underwear and I’ll help you. He never left, he just kept saying he needed help. It was nap time so I told him lets just put a diaper on and you can get a little rest. Of course he didn’t like this idea but that’s not part of this story. When I pulled his shirt up to put his diaper on guess what I found…Yep, his underwear. He had put both his legs in one leg hole and then pulled until they were tightly around his waist. I was laughing and he didn’t really think it was very funny. Today he is wearing a sweatshirt that was a bit of a challenge. The neck was a little tight so getting it over his head took a lot of extra pulling and straining. I coached him and helped him a little but he did most of the work. When he had it on correctly he sort of brushed himself, looked down and smiled at himself and then announced to me…Look, I beautiful.
Kris and I are trying to teach Owen to be polite. I imagine most parents do that. He is often demanding and is becoming argumentative and we try to curb that by reminding him of his please and thank you’s and encouraging the Southern “Yes, ma’am/sir” in his responses. “I want more cracker!” is met with “how do you ask?” and the quick “please!” doesn’t do the trick. We want the whole thing rephrased and tempered with some respect. Three words will do wonders for any request and they are “May I please…” The other night we knew that we had finally hammered it home when Owen demanded his desire to watch Sesame Street and Kris requested a more polite approach. Owen’s response…”May I please have some…watch Sesame Street!”
Yesterday, we took Kris to work, as his car was still in the garage, and then took the long way to Walmart, stopping at Chick-fil-a for a late breakfast before our shopping. I got groceries and then rushed a hungry baby and restless two year old back to the house. As I was unloading groceries I noticed that Owen was grunting a bit. He announced that he was poopy and I asked him if he wanted to use the toilet…he said “no” of course, but this time I decided to force the issue a bit. I ran him to the potty and was able to get him there in time to do the deed but my was he freaked out. I encouraged him and offered the candy bribe. He was struggling not to “go” at first but when I proved to him that I actually did have Hershey Kisses to reward him he relaxed and proudly announced he was done. Success! He was very proud of himself and got two Kisses (the chocolate kind) as well as a big hug from mommy.
Owen wears many hats around here. One is literally a sombrero that Kris brought home from a company picnic last summer. He especially likes it if Kris will wear one as well.
I’m not sure why he’s furrowing his brow like this but he often does and it cracks me up. I’m sure he’s copying my expressions and trying to figure out when they are appropriate. I think I make too many faces…he gets confused.
Another hat Owen wears is that of “big brother”. The other day he asked if he could feed Ivan. Normally this is impossible since I nurse but I happened to have a bottle available and I set him up.
Owen also wears the hat that I like to call my big baby. He is still comforted by being wrapped (swaddling style) in his favorite blanket and being rocked by me in the rocking chair. The other night he fell off of our bed and hit his head kind of hard on the floor. It wasn’t anything too terrible, more of a surprise than anything, but he sure wanted to be babied. I oblige him whenever I can. I hate and love that he’s gotten so big. I enjoy his progress so much but I still love to rock my little boy. He has really outgrown this babying process, his legs hang over the edge of the chair and when I look down at him his face is so big…like the same size as mine it seems. How did that happen? Oh well, those dark brown eyes are still looking to mine for comfort so I’ll rock him as long as I can.
Owen had a nightmare the other night.
He is scared of leaves. Dry, dead, swirling in the wind leaves to be precise. One day at the zoo he got caught in a blast of wind that had brown leaves swirling around him like a bunch of birds or bees. That’s what it made me think of. He was completely frozen in his tracks and screamed like everything. Ever since then he has avoided leaves as much as possible. I’ve tried to explain that it’s the wind that makes them move and that if he sees one laying on the ground, it can’t hurt him but it’s something he will have to grow out of I guess. Anyway…the other night I was feeding Ivan in the bonus room at around 4:00 in the morning. I heard Owen in his bed, let out a couple of little whiney screams. I couldn’t just get up and check on him so I finished what I was doing and then went back in there to put a fresh diaper on Ivan and put him back to bed. Owen was wide awake and looked at me and said. “It was the leaves. The leaves on my arm, and the leaves on my hand and the leaves on my feet.” Evidently he had been swarmed by leaves again in his sleep.
I felt really bad for him. I can remember having bad dreams about dogs when I was little. I used to wake up screaming and was completely convinced that there was a dog under my bed. He too is convinced of what is happening in his dreams and I wish I could change that but it takes time to learn what dreams are and more importantly what they aren’t. We pray for his dreams each night and I trust that God is watching over him even more carefully than I.