He looked me dead in the eye and said, "poop".
And he had pooped.
Maybe not my most glamorous gift, I know. But I was so thrilled that he had made the connection between his actions and his words that I leaped from where I sat and ran to him, whooping and hollering praises about what a fine poop he had undoubtedly produced.
He gave me the side eye and burst into tears. Either my outburst was frightening to him, or he feared I'd finally snapped after years of him honking my nose too hard and lost control of my mental faculties.
I can't even rule that out as a possibility. This morning I mistook my toothpaste for face cream and smeared it all over my forehead.
I'm looking forward to him making more connections as his brain matures. For example, it would be helpful if Adler would connect leaping off the dining room table with a nasty bump on the head.
It would make my nights easier if he would understand the link between nighttime and bedtime, so that he wouldn't respond as though I had tased him each time I tell him he needs to go to sleep.
Additionally, I'd appreciate Adler gaining some basic understanding that he does NOT need to wait until I am on the phone to loudly beg for some mystery item he refers to as "Uh... UHH!". He is welcome to fuss at me as much as he would like during my regular business hours.
But alas, he's not yet two. His gift to me on Sunday was probably coincidence as much as anything, and I don't think he's at all ready for potty training.
Maybe by my birthday...
Happy belated Mother's Day, everybody.
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Leave your own "ism". Cael and Graham double-dog dare you.