Kind to Others

Jack's got a lot of great qualities, but an amusing one lately is his politeness to inanimate objects. For example:

In the mornings, as we're leaving his room, he says goodbye to his Cow-shaped humidifier. "Goodbye, cow!" He waves. "Goodbye, cow!"

His trainyard is enhanced by the presence of a Hulk action figure that years ago I gave to 2-year-old Laura, my niece, and which found its way back into my possession when she was, understandably, terrified of the thing. Jack's okay with it, but he also treats it with respect. As he moves a train past him on the tracks, he says "Excuse me, Hulk." And: "Excuse me. ... Excuse me, Hulk."

He's also very respectful of injuries. If you say you have a boo-boo, he says "Want to kiss it." Then he comes over and kisses said boo-boo -- a scratch on my arm, or whatever. Of course, if he hits his head or has a boo-boo, it's the same story: "Kiss it," he says, holding out the damaged appendage or leaning forward so you can kiss his head. "Thanks!" he replies afterward. Nothing defuses concern over an injury, like when he hit his nose the other day, then him saying through tears, "Kiss it," followed by "Thanks!" Can't hurt that much.

Emily told me she picked Jack up at daycare once, and they'd told her that a child had been out sick. When he returned, Jack went over and hugged him to welcome him back. (Of course, Jack's sick as a I write this, so.....)

Jack Playing

A real-time account of Jack playing on Thursday morning...

8 a.m. Jack walks around the living room holding his baby dinosaur toy, his current favorite.

8:02. Jack picks up his toy harmonica. He had been inhaling, rather than blowing, but he finally figures out, sort of, how to blow and make it make noise. A single note comes out. "I did it!" he says.

8:05. Jack opens up Mr. Potato Head's silly suitcase. He likes Mr. Potato Head best when everything is removed -- arms, eyes, hat, whatever -- and then he has two noses. That's his favorite Mr. Potato Head, and he sets about having that become a reality. "Where'd the flower go?" When it's Mrs. Potato Head, she has a flower on her wrist. I find the flower for him. He opens up the butt compartment and begins putting pieces inside. And taking them out. "Take the eyes out...." and then: "He's naked!" Right now it's a bare potato. But Jack wants to put the moustache on, which of course can't be done without a nose to hold it in place. He holds up the second moustache. "That's a beard," he says. And now he doesn't like the noses, either. "I want the beard and the moustache on!" Well, I say, they won't stay on without the noses. "I don't want the noses!" This goes on for a few minutes. And then: "I want the baby dinosaur!"

8:15. Jack gets up and asks to watch "Backyardigans on the 'puter." And thus the blog ends.

Birthday Jack

Jack likes birthdays, even when they're not his. He sees a candle -- like at Aunt Taffee's, where there might be a pre-dinner Jewish tradition -- and he starts singing "Happy ... Birthday ... to ... you."

So when it was his own birthday last week, he was plenty into it -- the streamers, the balloons, the presents, the cupcakes. It was funny seeing him open gifts: the stereotypical tossing of clothes over his shoulder, plus the "OH!" when he got a toy he liked. "OH! Pablo!" when he tore off the wrapping paper of his Pablo of the Backyardigans stuffed toy. His favorite gift during the party was Cowboy Tyrone, which sang songs ("Riding the Range," etc.). He'd then pick up Pablo, which didn't sing, and say, "Not working."

His favorite gift in subsequent days was probably what also happened to be our favorite gift, a Mr. Potato Head from Aunt Casey. It's funny; he has no use for the eyes, or ears, or anything, he just likes to put noses all over it. So Mr. Potato Head typically has two noses and no other features. And then Jack puts him into his silly suitcase and carries him around, and says he's going out "to the post office and the library," and says "Bye, Daddy. Bye, Mommy. I'm going to the post office and the library." He also calls him "Mr. Tater Head," which makes me wonder if the word "tater" for Potato came from somebody who had a two-year-old.

Random Fun

I have a stuffed Daffy Duck in the back of our car, that my sister gave to me about 15 years ago on the eve of a cross-country trip. Today Jack looked at it and said "Goofy Duck." I said, what? Jack: "Goofy Duck!" Big smile from Jack. I said, no, that's Daffy Duck. "That's Goofy Duck," he said, laughing. All righty.

Yesterday Jack wanted to have a glass of juice, but when I went to put the lid on his cup, he said, "No, big boy!" Huh? "I big boy." OK, you're a big boy. I gave him his juice without a lid. Jack: "Lid."

I have this great superhero wall calendar that my sister, again, gave to Jack and me. It's not enough for Jack to see on the wall: "Touch it!" he cries. So I get it down and we flip through it. We came to the Spider-man page and I sing the Spider-man song. "Spider-man, Spider-man, does whatever a spider can..." so on and so forth. We turn to the other pages, and Jack wants a song for them, too. Now, I don't know of any songs for Captain America, the Hulk, etc., but I'm making things up: "Here comes Captain America, here comes Captain America!" And "Hulk, smash! Hulk, smash! HULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLkkkk - Smash!" He seemed to enjoy it.