A conversation.

It is a funny thing to have children at different ages. Age difference becomes specifically obvious in the realm of speech development. Samuel is now a three year old with a conversation level vocabulary. He can answer questions appropriately, and interact with you through discourse. We have become used to this level of interaction with our offspring.
See the thing is that the modus operendi of sweet little Abigail is mostly dahdahdahdahs, mamamamamas, and hoooohhs(with slobber).



So I sat down with her the other day:



ME: So...how is all this going here? Do you like it?

ABI: Dadadadadamamamama.

ME: Yeah, that's cool.

ABI: (non-verbal and trying to eat a dolls head)

ME: Good talk Sweety.

WILDlife.

For those of you who didn't hear the story of the time Samuel and I were nearly trampled by a deranged deer I will do my best to recount the story. The therapist tells me its good to talk it out. Here goes...



There we were minding our own business, playing trucks-n-stuff. All of the sudden with no warning whatsoever I heard a thumping noise from behind us. When I turned to see what it was I was oddly not overwrought about the feral beast. Instead I sat there, eyes wide saying to Samuel "Samuel look, a deer!", to which he responded "deeeer", and matter-of-factly returned his attention to the trucks.



You can never turn your backs on these wild creatures. If ever the day comes when they sprout opposable thumbs we better expand the hunting seasons for the sake of home protection.

Peace, AJV.

The Answer Is: Sea Salt and an Iron

The question is: How do you get petroleum jelly out of the carpet?

We are indebted to the curiosity of Samuel for this rather effective home remedy.

As I walked in the door I looked across the table into the living room to see my wife and son sitting on their knees facing eachother. The closer I walked to them the picture came into focus. Samuel was, bubbly as ever, casting a big smile to me as he said "Hi Daddy!" I replied with a hello and noticed the glistening shine on Samuels hands, and on his shirt, and his pants. It was at this point that I recognized what it was that was separating the mother and son. There on the floor was a medium pizza size blob of petroleum jelly, at which Samuel was pointing and saying "Funny!!"

It was impossible to keep straight faced while I explained how not funny it was.
Peace, AJV

Be careful what you say

Foreshadowing: Sarah and I have been reading chapter books to Samuel. Trying to aim a little above his head in terms of comprehension and word usage (or so we thought).

Last night I was at school until 9pm. When I got home Sarah told me this story:
"Samuel and I were playing trucks in the living room, having a good ole time.
When out of no where Samuel asks 'Where's Tom?'. Huh, I said. 'Where's Tom?' Samuel repeated as he looked all over the room. For the next minute he repeated
the mysterious question while inquisitively scanning beneath the couch, on the bookshelf,
and on top of the table. Again Samuel asks 'Where's Tom?'. Finally I said 'Tom
who, Samuel?' With near perfect clarity the response and identity of the mystery
Tom came: 'Sawyer'!
Sarah laughed so much that it caused Samuel to laugh at her laughing at him. For it has been a couple weeks gone by since we had returned The Adventures of Tom Sawyer to the library.

Immediately we both made a mental list of what has now become dangerous to repeat around that boy.

Peace, Andy