jetsetgreen

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Out of House and Home

At 7:15 am I gave up and let Proximo out of my bed to start his day.


He immediately ran into El Guille’s bed—no really, collided with the side—and squealed until E.G. woke up. Then Proximo ran someplace out of view. E.G. tumbled into my bed and snuggled up to me; the two of us, reluctant greeters of morning. After a couple minutes, in sauntered Proximo, holding, what else, a giant piece of pizza with the point already eaten and the rest under great peril. I collapsed into my bed with a fit of giggles, under great peril of peals.

Yes, the jammy-clad baby had gone into the dining room and pushed a chair into the kitchen, climbed the chair, opened the box of pizza that his father left out, separated a piece, started eating his breakfast, and then decided to join us in the bed. So if anyone asks, we don’t have a baby here anymore, just a Delta Tau Chi.

Proximo’s words are multiplying and coming faster. “MMMMMM, NUMMMY” he announces whenever he eats, which is always. Who couldn’t love a boy who devours everything you make him as if it’s his last meal on earth?



Even salmon.

He ate his way through the inauguration and threatened to start boiling shoe leather if I didn’t up the quantity of cereal, scones, apples, bananas, and everything. Meanwhile, E.G. picked each and every blueberry out of his homemade blueberry scone (sorry, Passionista, it hurt me too.) E.G. was very excited about watching Barack Obama talking right now (dear spellchecker, it’s time to add ‘Barack’ and ‘Obama.’)

“Is this happening right now? RIGHT NOW?”
“Yes. And there’s the old president, George Bush.”
“Is he old or new?”
“He’s the president right now, but you only get to be president for a little while and then a new one gets to be president. Obama is the new president.”
“You mean someone else gets your job? The job that you already had? That seems mean, mom.”

In the end, E.G. was extremely impressed with the multitude of flashing police lights of the motorcade and Proximo opened a yogurt with his teeth, ate two more scones, most of E.G.’s blueberries, and demanded chips of all assortments.

I ordered a whole elephant for roasting this weekend, just in case.

13 comments:

amelia said...

A Delta Tau Chi, oh you are funny.

Marilyn said...

We're grateful that it isn't a requirement that your offspring actually like blueberries, in order to be a blueberry farmer.

Three of our children will eat blueberries in any form, even frozen, but one...well she picks them out of her scones as well...and she's 13.

Azúcar said...

Frozen blueberries are awesome.


This morning, when I went in to get Proximo out of his crib he said to me, "Knock, knock."
"Who's there?"
"Knock, knock!"

I think he'll be headlining with Dane Cook in a couple weeks, check your local listings.

Rachie said...

Proximo is my kinda kid!

Amy said...

I love eager eaters. They make me feel validated. On the other hand, my son likes to play a trick called request-a-special-meal-that-requires-more-than-average-preparation-then-refuse-to-eat-it. I hate that game.

Azúcar said...

But do you recommend him, Rachie?



Amy,I hate that game, too

Shelby Lou said...

you have awesome in home entertainment. i wish i had the same. lucky goose

Morgan Moore said...

Unrelated:

Chris would like to know if Joe is going to be playing guitar hero at the upcoming Nie Benefit. Just thought I'd ask now, you know, in case he needs time to prepare (we all know he doesn't)

xo

Rynell said...

Proximo is adorable. And I feel that same aforementioned validation from eager young eaters.

My 5-year-old picked blueberries out of his yogurt today....

Michelle said...

Meant to comment yesterday on how much I loved this and how sad I've always been that my toddlers only ate dirt and air.

Hilary said...

My kids are not big eaters, except when I have them split a kid's meal at a restaurant -- then they eat a TON and want mine.
Crazy kids.

Likely said...

oh.my.gosh.

I am working on a post called House and Home --- no joke. I am not kidding, same title, same topic. the wee tabbycat is a MACHINE. He nearly out eats his father. Not really an exaggeration there.

So when you see my house and home post, know I didn't copy you... cross my heart.

bra.

p.s forgot we had the same kitchen table. but I shoulda figured. I love taking pictures with the heathered gray formica in the background.

p.p.s -- I hate that stupid spellchecker makes me spell dialogue as dialog. what?? And blonde as blond. Who is behind this watering down of The English??

ScrapBox Organization & Storage said...

Still remember the day we were trying to sleep in and Brenton, not quite 2, comes in and lobs a 2 lb block of cheese on our bed and demands breakfast.

Tiff, surely the texting is to blame.