We've had some interesting personality developments in the last few months. Maybe my favorite is the self timeout...
Me: Thomas if you hit me with your hammer again you're going to sit in timeout.
[Thomas starts walking away]
Me: Boy, do you hear me??? We don't hit with hammers in this house.
[Tommy sits quietly in timeout corner]
Me: Okay, that's good listening.
While it's nice to have him so cooperative with his discipline at this stage, we're also noticing how sensitive he is. We were having an apple for afternoon snack this weekend and I was cutting slices with a knife. He grabbed for the knife and Karen and I both yelled "NO" and he recoiled in fear. He sat back in his booster, stuck his bottom lip out an inch and a half and started sobbing. We tried to explain that knives are sharp and dangerous, but there was no consoling him. His mother even said, "how about a Popsicle" (great parenting, player) but nothing mattered. It really hurt his feelings that we didn't let him cut his fingers off.
Leanne came to visit us a few days later and if you can believe this, he hit her with a tape measure (which is really a victimless crime) and later threw a shovelful of dirt on her. Both times, Aunt Leannie told him, "No" and both times he started crying hysterically and ran into the house. I was using the bathroom. I could hear him crying outside, but it just kept getting closer and closer until he was banging on the bathroom door, gasping and wailing.
Me: Sonny, what happened? What's wrong???
Tommy: Leannie...no!
So that's happening. He tells you no to everything you say while, he himself, cannot accept no as a response. Good times.
Grandpa Kenny came up to help finish the garage and Tommy loved helping us out there. He loves tools, trucks, trains, cars, construction equipment, and also vacuum cleaners. If it has an engine or you keep it in the garage, my boy is interested. He'll either open an appliance repair business, drive a front loader, or major in interpretive dance at Julliard just to mix it up. He was very helpful in the garage. He helped Granpda Kenny measure and mark many of the walls. Every single one of his measurements was "two".
When I imagined having a son, I only ever envisioned someone who could talk to me. And he's finally here. And he says the most sweet and horrible and hilarious things. It's the best. We have pictures hanging in the family room and hallway. Most of them are of him at different 3 month intervals over the last two years, but we have four or five of our wedding day as well. Most of them are of Karen and I hugging or kissing, or looking lovingly at each other. Sometimes when I walk by them with Tommy I'll ask him who's in the pictures. He always points to Karen and says "Mommy". Then he looks at my picture for a while with my close cropped hair and tuxedo, and then looks at me now with my teenage haircut and tshirt, and then back at the picture before quietly answering, "Michael".
Man, that's such a great line to end it on too, but after dinner on Sunday, he handed his plate over and took off his bib and asked to get down. He took Karen by the hand and announced,"Mommy play, Daddy clean up kitchen."
That's our Thomas at 2.
