In a few weeks, my little boy will be three years old. And that actually seems about right. He's really matured during the past couple of months. He seems happier, more regulated. He's learning about sharing and has begun going to his room to calm down when he gets too upset. His language skills have been expanding at an exponential rate. He has been a true joy to be around (most of the time.)
Some cute things from the past month or so:
Soren is my big kitchen helper. If I'm doing anything in the kitchen, he'll immediately run grab his Lightening McQueen chair and drag it into the kitchen so he can participate. He'll scramble eggs, cut up cheese, knead dough, measure ingredients, stir soup. You name it, he'll do it.
This was our second attempt at making Thanksgiving rolls. The first batch was ruined when I turned my back for a minute and Soren dumped the entire container of yeast into the dough.
Sometimes my Bubba gets a little innovative in the kitchen. For example, when he was helping me make the rolls, he built things out of the dough: walls and snakes and things. When we finished with that, I told him that the dough needed to have a nap while it raised. So we covered it up with a towel and put it on the island shelf. Then he insisted that we build a door out of blocks so that it would be quiet enough for the dough to get some decent rest. (The cheesy grin is for the benefit of the camera. I used to do that exact smile for pictures too.)
Another innovation: we were making cookies the other evening. We pulled the first batch out of the oven and I told Soren we could eat some after they had cooled down. Upon hearing this, he immediately darted out of the kitchen and down the hall. I could hear him rooting around in the bathroom and then he came back with his blow-dryer, proclaiming that he had brought it in to cool down the cookies. One of his nay-saying aunties told him that wouldn't work, but he brushed her off and I let him plug in the blow dryer and "cool down" the cookies.
Soren figured out how to remove the bottom from his blocks container and started wearing it around the house on occasion. He looks perfectly homeless, doesn't he?
I make enough homemade playdough to open up a factory. This was a batch that Soren got wet. He was fascinated with the resulting texture, however, and sat in his high chair playing with it for a large amount of time. Anything for a few minutes of peace, I always say.
Other tidbits:
Soren has an enormous crush on his Auntie Briar. Every evening as a family we'll sing a song and then have family prayer. Briar is not into singing (at least not when anyone can hear), so she usually does not participate in the song portion. Soren, however, will often run up to her and shove a finger in her face, demanding, "You sing it!" So Briar will mouth the words in an exaggerated fashion, much to his eye-sparkling delight.
Soren was playing quietly in the front room and Liam was downstairs squealing loudly. Without looking up from his toys, he said, "That's a beautiful song, Liam."
Soren was playing with a measuring tape and told his dad, "This is so beautiful. I love it."
Soren loves the word "pretty," as in: "That's pretty nice." He'll say things like, "I'm pretty scared," or "I pretty don't want to go to my room."
He also says, "That be good" or "That not be good," when we're discussing plans. (ie..."Soren! We're going to read a story!" "That be good." "Then we'll go to bed!" "That not be good.")
Tonight I heard him use the phrase, "Speaking of which...." a couple of times.
On the way to Grandma's house one morning, Soren mentioned that Nanny Q (Uncle Quentin) lived in Utah. "Yes, he does," I said. "Do you miss him?" "No," said Soren. "Do you miss Uncle Sue?" "No." "Do you miss Uncle Seth and Auntie Karen?" "No." "Do you miss Uncle Scott and Auntie Amanda?" "No." Pause. "I miss Gracie." Gracie is Seth and Karen's cat. "Oh." I said. "Well, Gracie is in Utah too."
Yesterday Soren said to me: "Jesus is pretty far away." "Ummm.....yes, I suppose he is," I replied. "Jesus is in Utah," he added.
"Oh, I love you!" I told him one morning as I buckled him into his carseat, the way I have a million times before. "I love you too," he said, a first.
Today Soren offered to say the dinner blessing. "Dear Heavenly Father," he said. "Please bless Liam that he will get out of the high chair because it is my turn."
Liam has decided that he wants to be a little tiny baby forever. At nine months, he still needs to be walked around when he's unhappy; he still breastfeeds almost exclusively (not my idea, I promise you); he has shown no interested in crawling. He cried hysterically when his daddy tried to get him to drink out of a sippy cup last week. And he sprouted a fourth tooth but seems to have sucked it back in. He is our twenty-five pound newborn. Funny kiddo. 
This was our second attempt at making Thanksgiving rolls. The first batch was ruined when I turned my back for a minute and Soren dumped the entire container of yeast into the dough. 
Sometimes my Bubba gets a little innovative in the kitchen. For example, when he was helping me make the rolls, he built things out of the dough: walls and snakes and things. When we finished with that, I told him that the dough needed to have a nap while it raised. So we covered it up with a towel and put it on the island shelf. Then he insisted that we build a door out of blocks so that it would be quiet enough for the dough to get some decent rest. (The cheesy grin is for the benefit of the camera. I used to do that exact smile for pictures too.)
Another innovation: we were making cookies the other evening. We pulled the first batch out of the oven and I told Soren we could eat some after they had cooled down. Upon hearing this, he immediately darted out of the kitchen and down the hall. I could hear him rooting around in the bathroom and then he came back with his blow-dryer, proclaiming that he had brought it in to cool down the cookies. One of his nay-saying aunties told him that wouldn't work, but he brushed her off and I let him plug in the blow dryer and "cool down" the cookies. 
Soren figured out how to remove the bottom from his blocks container and started wearing it around the house on occasion. He looks perfectly homeless, doesn't he?
I make enough homemade playdough to open up a factory. This was a batch that Soren got wet. He was fascinated with the resulting texture, however, and sat in his high chair playing with it for a large amount of time. Anything for a few minutes of peace, I always say. 
Deep Storm
