Two Years

You know that adorable picture of Fuzzy sleeping that ended the last post on him?  I should have known that Fuzzy keeping still and quiet outside of nap time meant something terrible was going to happen.  The pestilence presented itself the next day, when Fuzzy woke up my mom in the middle of the night, said "Fizz tummy hoyts," and proceeded to puke all over his crib, then her bed, then the bathroom.  This went on for approximately one week, during which the rest of us also succumbed, one by one.  Then we had a two week respite, and then we all went through a second round of that norovirus-type crap again.  So...this month could have gone better, all things considered.  However, there are several awesome, non-puking related stories to relate:

1)  First and foremost, the penis-related conversations.  One night in the tub, Fuzz stood up and peed. After surveying the frothy results with excitement, he looked up at me and said, "Fizz made bubbles wit peenis?"

Then, a couple of days later, Fuzzy was observing as I changed Sprout, when the baby let loose and peed straight up in the air.  Watching this, we had the following exchange:

Fuzz:  "Water come out! Water come out of DAT little fing!"
Me:  "That's not water, it's pee.  And it came from Sprout's penis."
Fuzz:  "Fizz have penis too! And Daddy...Daddy have biiiig one!"

2)  All month, Fuzzy has been particularly affectionate and attached with me.  I guess this isn't a surprise, since his baby brother demands an inordinate amount of Mama's time.  However, the result is a lot of Fuzzy wandering up to me and randomly rubbing his face on my legs, in a sort of cross between a normal person's kiss or hug.  When I change him, he will grab by arm, mouth it a little bit, and announce that he's "eating Mama."  Periodically, he will also pinch Mama - not so much to hurt, but because at that moment, he seems overwhelmed with the need to hold a piece of Mama very tight.  Needless to say, I prefer the hug/kissing, even if it does result in lot of tripping.

3)  Given that Sprout is his main rival for Mama's time, Fuzzy has been surprisingly good about his baby brother.  He periodically wants to hold/hug/kiss Fpout, but that is about the sum total of his interactions with the baby....except on those rare occasions that Sprout loses his patience and really starts wailing.  When Fuzzy is around to witness this, he gets incredibly upset, starts wailing too, and requires somebody to hold him while he emphatically mumbles under his breath, "NO LIKE IT, that baby crying."

4)  Fuzzy's been doing some funny non-literal things with the English language recently.  For example, we got take-out Mexican one night, and Fuzzy started devouring the chips.  Then he saw The Pit dip one in salsa, and demanded to do the same.  Unsurprisingly, once he sampled it, the reaction was, "Fizz no like that fing.  Fizz no like that spicy fing."  And that seemed to be the end of that.  However, later that day, we were looking at cars out the window, and I asked him what color the passing red car was.  "WED!" he responded, and followed up with: "Dat car spicy?"

Another time, we were at Target, and I was attempting to pick out a swimsuit for him.  I must admit, they were all pretty garish, but I was not expecting Fuzzy to explain that he didn't want one because it was "too loud."

While I would like to assume that my kid is a genius and is independently making up idioms all by himself, I think the more likely explanation is that he heard these things somewhere.  I just have no specific knowledge of when or where, so all I get is the surreal results.

5)  When I'm at loss as to how to entertain Fuzz, we find rocks, turn them over, and study the undersides for creepy crawling things.  Fuzzy really likes it when we find worms, although he'll take slugs in a pinch.

Despite my numerous explanations that worms like it best in the dirt, for some inscrutable reason, Fuzzy insists on picking them up and placing them in the nearest tree branch.  "Fizz wescue dis worm!" he will say proudly, surveying his wiggling handiwork.  When I suggest that the worm might appreciate a rescue down into that nice flowerpot, Fuzzy will acquiesce only grudgingly.

When we find a slug, Fuzzy likes to place it in a cup, and then go show it to Maya.  "Show Maya yucky sug?" he will say...or, on one memorable occasion when he found the largest slug I've ever seen: "Maya, Maya, Fizz find biiiiig sug!"  Maya is a bit on the OCD-cleaning spectrum, so the look on her face when presented with these treasures is always priceless.

6)  As I've mentioned before, Fuzzy has two comfort toys - his "babies" that are always in his crib.  Several evenings this month, he's unceremoniously thrust them at me and ordered me to put them away in the drawer as I sing him his bedtime songs.  Once I comply and leave the room, these requests are inevitably followed by screaming from Fuzzy 10 to 15 minutes later.  The Pit will go in his room, retrieve the babies for him, and peace will reign once again.  I guess he isn't quite ready to give them up yet.

Since his unending affection tends to leave the babies dirty, it's always a little tricky finding a non-nap/non-bedtime preceding interval in which to wash the things.  The other day, Maya said to hell with it, and shoved them in the washing machine shortly before Fuzz went down for his nap.  Somehow, she calmed him down when he discovered them missing, explaining that they were being washed.  When he woke up though, his first words were: "Maybe babies done washing now?" I was happy to facilitate a touching reunion.

7)  Ever since I got Fuzzy a little toy digger, he's been obsessed with construction machinery, which he indiscriminately calls big trucks...or actually, "tucks." This is already much better than some of his playground compatriots, who refer to them very loudly and excitedly as "fucks."  Fortunately for Fuzzy, there are two nearby houses undergoing demolition/renovation, and every day, Fuzzy demands to go and see the progress.  "Go outfide? Fizz see big tucks!  Maybe man workin?" he will say, and tug at my hand until I agree to take him.  Then he will stare at the machines for hours if we let him.

8)  While my mom was here, she would get up with Fuzz every morning.  Between the illness and his sensing weakness in grandma, "morning" got progressively earlier and earlier, with Fuzzy going from a usual wake-time of 7:30 to 8:00 AM, to something between 5:30 and 6:00 AM.  After her visit ended, The Pit and I decided to divide and conquer - he's been sleeping in the guest room and trying to make Fuzzy sleep later every morning, and I've been up in our room feeding the baby at all hours of the night.  The Pit's strategy includes taking Fuzzy out of the crib to nap with him until at least 7 AM - and he reports that he is now lovingly awakened by Fuzzy fingering circles round and round his mouth every day - apparently because Fuzz likes the way the stubble feels.

9)  Although he still isn't saying "yes," Fuzzy now responds with an "Okaaaay!" when he is asked whether he wants something.

10)  The terrible two tantrums have started...although I have yet to see Fuzz really throw himself on the ground, he has cried hard enough to puke (though that might have been more do with the stomach bug than the tantrum).  Usually he just cries or screams incoherently - when he gets that upset, it actually becomes much more difficult to figure out what he wants, as his language skills degenerate to "MAMA! MAMA!"

11)  We had a locksmith come and fix the deadbolt on our front door, and the man used a drill.  Fuzzy observed with interest, then asked me if he could use it.  After I told him that the drill was just for the repair man, Fuzz thought it over, and then confirmed with me: "Only dis guy can play wit dis dill?"

12)  Fuzzy doesn't have a huge interest in drawing yet, but he will occasionally pick up a crayon, draw
misshapen circles, and sprinkle liberally with dots.  When asked what he drew, he will say one of the following:  Fizz, Daddy, Fpout, Mama, or elephant.  All of us tend to have more than two eyes, apparently.

13)  I've mentioned it before, but Fuzzy has always had a fear of wind-up mechanical toys.  On my mom's latest visit, she brought a small friendly-looking wind-up frog for the bath.  All was well until we made it move, at which point Fuzzy shrieked, skittered over to the furthest end of the tub, and yelled "Fizz scared dis fog!"

14)  Fuzz has been stringing more and more words together into complex sentences.  For example, after he and I dropped a letter in a postal box, he came home and yelled at The Pit:  "Daddy, daddy, Fizz put mail in mail box - man pick up?"

A month or two ago, The Pit planted a bunch of radishes in our backyard.  Some have now attained sufficient size to be worth pulling, and Fuzzy likes to select one, yank it out, and then pop it in his mouth more or less covered in dirt.  To combat this tendency, I've taken to brining a tupperware of water with me, and make him dip the radish in to remove at least the worst of the soil.  This is Fuzzy's description of the process as he dips each one in the water:  "Wadishes!  Fizz pick dis big wadish!  Now tip!"  Then he proceeds to stuff his face.

15)  Fuzz has known that he gets a happy birthday song for a while now, and after some relevant episodes of his favorite cartoons, can even sort of approximate the tune.  When we actually sang to him on his birthday, he demanded that we do it again and again, complete with candle lighting and blowing out.  It was pretty adorable, although not quite as adorable as when he randomly and completely unaware of events sang Happy Birthday in his crib on the morning that Sprout was born.  Here he is, blowing out his candles for the second time on an already partially eaten cupcake.