Random Strikes Again

* There's some scary stuff going on over at Looky, Daddy! He happens to be one of my favoritest bloggers and Kathryn never fails to make for the funny, so pop over and wish the whole family the best.

* When Alexis asked to go to sleep at 8:00 tonight, I thought it would be a good idea to try to stretch it out to 8:30 or 9:00. I was so, so very wrong. I may never get to sleep past 6:00 am.

* I finished my very first knitting project today. It was supposed to be for Alexis, but she wants nothing to do with it:

Oh well, Meg is always willing to humor me:

Even Jasmine is more cooperative:

Next up (and this time Alexis better wear it--I don't think she and Meg wear the same size sweater):

* There's a very good chance that I will be getting my THIRD top score trophy in my Fantasy League Tuesday morning. I just need Burress to have a half-decent game tomorrow. It only took until 4:00 today for me to have officially beaten my opponent of the week, so that kind of sucked some of the fun out of it. I prefer a close game. A close game where I crush my competition, but a close game nonetheless.

It's Not You, It's Her

Lately I've had a few comments from friends, on the blog, and via email saying something to the effect of "Alexis talks so much more than my son/daughter!" I want to make sure one thing is absolutely clear: It's Alexis that is abnormal, not your child. If you need a little reassuring (or just want to know what is "normal"), try this site or this site.

According to all the charts I've seen and our Pediatrician, Alexis currently fits in with the average 24 to 30 month-old when it comes to speech (she's 20 months). She knows a few hundred words, uses names, and frequently puts together two to four word sentences. A stranger would probably understand her 70% of the time.

Because I know you're curious, I attribute her weirdness to three things:

1. Sign Language. We started teaching her sign language at 6 months. Mostly we taught her by watching Signing Time with her. There have been studies that have shown that teaching signs encourages communication, but I don't need the studies to know that it clearly had an impact in our house. For one thing, the fact that we are teaching her to sign means that I am forever asking her "What's that?" or "How do you sign (word)?" That's actually how I manage to make it through a store with her. I distract her into telling me the name of everything that she sees. I wouldn't have thought to do that if it weren't for the focus on words that learning sign language encourages. The other benefit we've seen from signing is that it helps us to understand words that sound like gibberish. For example, she probably said 'cracker' twenty times before she first signed it, but I didn't understand her. Once she added the sign, I could ask her if she was saying cracker, and she could confirm. Repeating the word back to her lets me confirm that I understood and gives her a chance to hear it pronounced correctly. It only takes a few times for her enunciation to improve. Then I don't need the sign to understand her anymore.

2. She's bossy. Really bossy. The girl fully intends to control the universe when she grows up. She already tells other kids what to do and has been known to lead them around the playground, telling them when to sit or slide or stop. Wanting to be able to tell other people what to do is a pretty good incentive when it comes learning to speak.

3. She arrived in this world programmed to talk early, just like she came programmed to get teeth early (teeth at four months made breastfeeding GREAT fun, let me tell you), crawl late, hate baby food, and walk late. To loosely quote a line from a Signing Time song, Alexis will do what Alexis will do when Alexis is ready to do it.

My favorite thing that she's been saying lately is "Hi, I'm Crackers!" (She got it from the Intro to Signing Time which starts with "Hi, I'm Rachel.") If you are what you eat, then she needs to modify it to "Hi, I'm Crackers and Waffle!" And if I were to introduce myself the same way, it would be "Hi, I'm chocolate!" What about you?

Continuing to Disappoint Since 1976

Alexis would like you to know that I have failed her two days in a row. Yesterday morning, I had the gall to offer her cereal for breakfast. I was promptly corrected with a booming, "I DON'T WANT CEREAL!" Really, I'm so glad she can put together a few words to form sentences. But I would like it even more if that sentence had been followed by some sort of hint, clue, maybe a sign, anything that might indicate what she did want. But no, it was followed by screams and cries and general temper tantrums for I am a fool that just doesn't understand how hard it is to be one. My biggest offense--I didn't think to ask her if she wanted a waffle for at least 20 minutes. Once I did, she ROLLED HER EYES as she said, "Yes, I want waffle." You cannot possibly imagine the joy I felt as she rolled her eyes. There's nothing like starting that feat at the age of one to make your mother proud. Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll grow out of it before she's a teenager. And maybe she won't ever throw another fit.

So we resolved the Waffle Issue yesterday. As Alexis sat at the table blissfully stuffing her face with cinnamon-topped goodness, I threw away the then empty package. Later in the day, I mentioned to Daddy that we were currently in the midst of a waffle shortage. We were in a few stores that sold them last night, but since Alexis has been a little under the weather the past few days, we were in a rush and forgot to buy them. Neither one of us really thought much of it. After all, she usually eats cereal on the weekend.

But not this morning. Oh no. Immediately after her eyes popped open, she declared, "I'm awake! Waffles, please!" That's really the last words I understood because after that she went into full blown toddler meltdown. And while I didn't understand the actual words she spewed, I know what the message was intended to be:

"Oh. My. Gawd. How could there not be any waffles? What is wrong with you people? How could you fail me this way? If I am to survive living in this house, there must be waffles. GO GET ME SOME WAFFLES NOW! Don't walk. Run. Waffles. Now. You morons, get me my @#$%!# waffles!"

So Daddy threw on some clothing deemed acceptable for public consumption and ran to the grocery store. Since Alexis was so very concerned about the state of her waffles, he took her with him. As he rushed up and down the aisles, seeking out the priceless waffles, Alexis wailed and sobbed and blubbered, her sad outbursts intermixed with pitiful cries for waffles. At last they made their way to the frozen breakfast foods aisle where it's been reported that she clutched that box of frozen goodness tighter than her favorite baby doll. Once she returned home, she sat gleefully stuffing her face full of two entire waffles, never once losing her focus on the bowl full of love that she held so close to her heart.

Alexis, Costco is on the agenda tomorrow. We will buy the biggest box of waffles money can buy. There will never, ever again be a waffle shortage in our house. I promise. (P.S. Could you do me one little favor? Could you please not change the "must-have" breakfast food to something else in a few days? Because that would really suck if you suddenly decided it was Shredded Wheat that made your world go round and we were stuck with a pallet of waffles that neither Daddy nor I are willing to eat. Thanks, kid.)