The Little Dictator LOVES to count.
The Little Dictator LOVES to read.
The Little Dictator LOVES to point and identify.
CONS
The Little Dictator thinks every number is the number "9".
The Little Dictator thinks every word is either "Mama", "Dada", "Bobo" (his favorite stuffed monkey - and yes, there are multiple... three, at last count), "No", "SpongeBob", "Chowder" (both are cartoons), "Bye-Bye", and "Mwah".
The Little Dictator thinks every object that he points to and identifies - no matter how inaccurate it may be - exists solely for his enjoyment... or terror.
EXPLANATION
Like many parents in Toddlerville, we have a book (or several) on counting. This particular book has buttons that *insert toddler's name here* can press to hear the number said out loud, with corresponding pages full of 1 cat, 2 dogs, 3 balls, etc. For wahtever reason, Bruiser has zeroed-in on the number "9", and has now decided that every number that he sees has GOT to be the number "9". Until recently, this was limited to times he actually saw numbers... now he counts things - his deck of cards, especially - using his patented "9, 9, 9!" approach. I do not see a future in mathematics.
Just last night, our little Dookie-Doo was reading the newspaper - the weather section, to be exact. He was sitting on the couch, leaning back, and scanning the page with a thoughtful expression on his face. The next thing we know, it's
"Mama Dada Bobo No SpongeBob Chowder Bye-Bye Mwah."
... over and over and over. Oh, sure, there was plenty of inflection, intonation and enunciation, but I could not stop laughing! (Which, of course, goaded him on to repeat, repeat, repeat.) While my son may know over 40 words, I just wondered what made him choose those particular few. The world may never know.
We took Bubba to the Puyallup Fair this weekend for a little outdoor, greasy-food, ride experiencing fun. While the Man-Mate and I took turns sliding down the Giant Slide with him nestled in front of us, the really wasn't much else to occupy his mind. He was, technically, too young to go on ANY of the rides (I told the Giant Slide ticket collector-man-guy-person that "Yes, in fact, my son IS two years old. He's 25 months, even!"), and there are some rules that you just don't want to push when it comes to your child's safety on a ride. Plus, who knew if he was emotionally ready for the terrors of "The Peaceful River Raft"?? Speaking of terror, we took him in to see the 4H cows and pigs. Guess who isn't fond of bacon's origin? When he wasn't cowering in fear, our little Squish-Face would shake his finger at the offending creatures and tell them "no, No, NO!" from behind his beloved Mama.
I can't wait to tell him all about his toddlerhood quirks...
We took Bubba to the Puyallup Fair this weekend for a little outdoor, greasy-food, ride experiencing fun. While the Man-Mate and I took turns sliding down the Giant Slide with him nestled in front of us, the really wasn't much else to occupy his mind. He was, technically, too young to go on ANY of the rides (I told the Giant Slide ticket collector-man-guy-person that "Yes, in fact, my son IS two years old. He's 25 months, even!"), and there are some rules that you just don't want to push when it comes to your child's safety on a ride. Plus, who knew if he was emotionally ready for the terrors of "The Peaceful River Raft"?? Speaking of terror, we took him in to see the 4H cows and pigs. Guess who isn't fond of bacon's origin? When he wasn't cowering in fear, our little Squish-Face would shake his finger at the offending creatures and tell them "no, No, NO!" from behind his beloved Mama.
I can't wait to tell him all about his toddlerhood quirks...
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