Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Elias is TWO!

My littlest pumpkin is a two-year-old! He's no longer a baby, but has become quite the charming toddler. 


He still doesn't talk much, though he understands plenty. He's got a sense of humor, which is great. If he doesn't want a sibling to hug him, he cries, "OW! OW! OW!" or will push them away and say, "Git!" He hates noodles and doesn't care much for sweets, though he loves Reddi-Whip and M&Ms. He climbs from his playpen now, so we've been setting up baby-gates in the doorways. Naps aren't happening as often, which is good and bad. I miss the snuggles, but like having the whole day to do things without planning around his sleep schedule. He likes Hide-and-Seek, jumping on the bed, and closing himself up in closets after waving bye-bye. He loves Hot Wheels cars and trucks. They're basically the only things he ever plays with. He likes wearing Leah's headbands and bows and walking around in everyone's shoes. He also prefers to wear socks on his hands.

So far his vocabulary words are:
Mom
Mama
Dad
Bob (what he calls James)
Ee-yah (Leah)
Rororororo (basically barking, or "dog")
Mau (like meow, or "cat")
Bye bye
Go go (car)
Awrite (alright)
Oh no
Mane mane (airplane)
Butt butt (could be butt, buckle, or belly button)
Bubbles
A-nana (banana)
Eat
No-tiku (no thank you)
Nuey (what we call a pacifier)
Git! (get, or get away because he's a rude little twerp)
Peesa (pizza)
Bay bay (baby)

Monday, August 7, 2017

Grief

Our Figgy died last night. I'm not even sure what to write about or why to write about it... It's been a sad day with plenty more ahead. He was such a good cat, though a typical ass at times. We've cleaned up more broken glass and cat vomit than before he joined our lives, but it's one of those things I'll actually miss, along with his little jingle-bell collar and bumping his head against my legs when I wash dishes or cook.


He tried to swallow some of my yarn. Not a first for him... last night was just different, I guess. I was in my room on the computer, the kids were playing quietly in Leah's room, and Zac was just getting in from mowing my parents' lawn. He saw puke on the floor and Fig had a long piece of yarn hanging from his mouth. Zac tried to get it and Fig became aggressive. I attempted to try to pull it out gently, but felt resistance, and he threw up some blood. Zac brought him to the emergency vet and a few hours later he called with the bad news. The vet managed to get most of the yarn out, but an x-ray showed more deeper in his gut. Parts of Fig's intestines were distended and dead. Surgery had a less-than-20% chance of doing any good and he was in pain... they had to sedate him. So... we chose the most humane thing to do. Zac buried him in the backyard this morning in the spot where I want my flower bed. We miss him so much.