My souffle! Ruined!

I'm no Iron Chef but I've always done pretty well in the kitchen. I can follow a recipe easily enough and have a few favorites that come out pretty well (chicken tetrazzini and Italian beef are my specialties).

Unfortunately, over the years I've become more and more limited in what I make, due to family dietary concerns and preferences. I also find that with the distractions of parenting I've pretty much become a sucky cook. I hit the bottom of the barrel tonight, when I screwed up boiling potatoes.

I'm still not sure what happened. They probably got cooked too long, or maybe weren't very good quality, but they took on the consistency and flavor of silly putty at some point. I loaded them down with butter, which improved the flavor but didn't actually mix with the Starch of Doom, it just glazed small nuggets of it. I'm a New Englander, which means eating what's in front of me so the kids who are starving in Ethiopia will have some small comfort, but even my cast-iron stomach is not happy with the aftermath.

That didn't stop me from putting the rest in the fridge so The Boy could have it for leftovers tomorrow, of course.

Sage advice

If you breastfeed, and I hope you do/will, then come up with some kind of subtle code to use around the baby. Otherwise, you'll eventually be flying in an airplane or sitting in a crowded room and everyone will hear, "Boobie! Boobie!"

I mentioned this to a friend and she suggested "Stella," which I think is a good one. Personally, I'd recommend... "Khan!"

Words, words everywhere

The Boy has finally gone crazy with speaking, parroting back random words that he hears us say. I gotta say it's gosh-darn cute, especially since he hasn't mastered most of the sounds yet.

I'm trying to think back to when it started, but it just seemed to come out of nowhere. He did have an exciting Christmas, seeing many people and even flying to Florida to visit his grandparents, so maybe that jogged his memory. The Wife did abandon our references to them as Grampa and Gramma and settled for Pop-Pop and Nannie, which The Boy can manage, so I do wonder if that gave him the confidence he needed to try other sounds. Up to this point you could ask him to say something and he'd just reply with a firm, "No."

Things like this make me ponder developmental milestones, like speaking or walking. There are many anecdotes about a kid learning some new skill right after getting sick, and I wonder if the brain needs some kind of kick in the pants to get out of its rut. The Boy gets plenty of activity during the normal course of the day, plus several different adults to abuse and manipulate, but it could be that we're just too boring for him.

But then I think about how humans evolved and what stimulation the brain received several thousand years ago. At most The Boy would have a small tribe to learn from, with exploits in hunting and gathering. The odds of him getting sick on a regular basis would be slim, thanks to clean living and a dispersed population. All in all his life would be pretty dull, so I wonder if kicking the brain in the pants isn't a good thing after all. How much stimulation is ideal, and where do brains get pants anyway?

Tie breaker

Last night was my company's Christmas party (one of the few companies in this economy to actually have a party), and I was the only one without a novelty holiday tie. It occurred to me that my sparse tie collection will probably drastically expand in the years to come, thanks to that festive occasion called Father's Day. I'll get a long, thin box, crudely wrapped, and will have to pretend that I don't know what it is, only to open it and be delightfully amazed at the tie shaped like a fish, or covered in leprechaun heads, or whatever.

Fortunately, the geniuses over at Think Geek have some pretty cool ties, such as the 8-Bit, Space Invaders, or, for big meetings and job interviews, the power tie.

The Wife will be stuck with the usual Mother's Day gift; breakfast in bed. If The Boy is in charge, she can expect to get burnt toast, soggy oatmeal, and spilled orange juice. On the bright side, I can buy her a titanium spork to make the meal more enjoyable.

pop goes the corn

It's interesting to note that babies don't think 0f items just as items, but as part of an event. To them, everything has a purpose or history. Adults are similar--- you may remember fondly the day you purchased your coffee table, but for kids it's an integral part of that coffee table's existence.

Popcorn for The Boy, for example, isn't just something good to eat. It's also something popped in the air popper, which is loud and is kept on a very high shelf and the popcorn is usually only eaten when Mama isn't around so she doesn't see how much we make or how quickly we scarf it down.

We'll spend a good five minutes every time we come up from the basement talking about the light switch, which The Boy is allowed to turn off, unlike the switch above it which only Daddy can touch and controls the furnace, which is downstairs and is hot and loud and doesn't contain water but air and blows it all over the house. I've taken to avoiding going down there when my child is around, preferring to let The Cat starve until I get a chance to sneak down on my own to avoid the long series of gestures and monosyllabic words just to scoop food into her damn bowl.

Pie are square

A few months ago, The Boy called anything sweet "cookah."

But then we read a gripping tale about a Monster of Cookies who, having run out of cookies, decides to bake more. Just when you think the story over, they throw you for a loop by revealing that the hero of the book bakes a pie as well!

For some reason, The Boy decided that this "pie" phenomenon was fascinating. I believe shortly after reading this book he had some pie, or maybe even a cake that resembled a pie, and decided that this was his new favorite word. So now everything sweet is called pie. Not a big deal, but he even calls cookies pie now. He refuses to utter the previous word, perhaps believing that he has grown beyond such childish treats. He's a man of the world now, and demands the finest of desserts. But it's still annoying when you hold up a cookie and hear him squeal, "PIE!"

Enunciate!

I'm pretty sure I know how toddlers develop their language skills. At some point the parents give up trying to interpret each and every monosyllabic utterance and vague gesture and just shrug. The child, finally realizing that the cushy lifestyle is over, decides it's time to actually put two words together. I've gone from having a near telepathic link with my son to just looking at him blankly, and he's learned that if he wants to play with his Legos he'd better damn well learn how to say the word "Lego." (Not that he's learned to say it yet, but he's on his way.)