Our Little Socialist

About to make some sort of decree, I'm sure. Will they listen?

Since he started talking we've noticed Jude is a bit of a... hmm....well, socialist. Maybe even a communist. He's our household Karl Marx.

Jude believes, with fervor, that everyone nearby should be participating in any activity he's enjoying, and everyone should have their share of whatever. Free will and uneven distribution of goods doesn't sit well with him.

If he takes a bite of something, Mama should too. Then Daddy. If he decides to do something odd just to see what it's like - like put a leaf in his mouth - Mama can expect to be told to do so as well, then Daddy. It doesn't matter if you're doing something else (using the bathroom, driving, plucking your eyebrows), if Jude knows you're in the vicinity you'll hear your name yelled by a toddler version of Lenin, but friendlier: "Daddy do it!" "Mama take a bite!" "DADDY. BITE."

Group activity at a farm in Cadillac, MI. Jude is pleased.

When he's gotten everyone to do whatever, he gets a huge look of satisfaction in his eyes and positively beams.

His personality has a strong streak of independence, but let me tell you, the boy loves group activities. Don't balk.

tiny

Jude's favorite adjective lately is also my most favorite of all his new words. Wanna know what it is? Squint a second.

It's tiny.

And when he says it, it's a really tiny word.

A few examples: we're in the backyard and he finds a very small berry lying in the dirt next to a hosta plant. He bends down, picks it up and shows it to me. "Tiny," he says.

We're outside and he's riding his four-wheeled bike. A plane flies overhead, high up in the sky. He looks up and points, then looks at me. "Mama! Tiny." (Stop it now. Heads are exploding three blocks away.)

Jude, listen. When you say "tiny" in your tiny voice that comes out of your tiny body, you are asking to be squished. So don't act surprised when it happens.

Here he is giving me a hug. Then he says "circle", and "tiny". He's relentless.

Orchard

We went out to Fruit Ridge Farm just outside the city last night to do Fall stuff. He picked this apple and immediately tore into it. (You can hear him whispering "apple", then "bite".) He was so thrilled with that piece of fruit; he kept it firmly between his two paws like a chipmunk and didn't stop gnawing on it for an hour, occasionally sharing a bite when asked.

He was dressed like a little lumberjack, and he had a great time riding behind the horses, going through the woods on the wagon, playing in the pumpkin field, picking that apple and chasing a kitty.

He has such a tiny voice right now, I'm going to try not to ever forget how it sounds.

All Stars

Half n' Half

Somebody got his Canadian card in the mail yesterday. He is now officially 76 centimeters tall and a dual citizen.

Aren't you proud Grandma K? :)

Spilled Milk

The first sentence I remember hearing Jude say was when I asked him where his Daddy was in a photo. He pointed at Jono's face and said, "There he is!"

Since then he's said "Light, I see it!" (pointing to a lamp) and "Look at that!" (after something he thinks is cool just happened). There are also plenty of things he says that have no translations.

Yesterday as he finished his supper he tipped his sippy cup over and put pressure on the nozzle so it would release a small puddle of milk onto his tray. He pressed his face down into it, nose and mouth in full contact with the liquid, and slurped it up until it was gone. He raised his head and looked at me, a drop of milk trembling on the end of his nose and another one running down his chin.

"Slurp it," he said.

He followed the same routine another five or six times, saying "slurp it" every time.

I sat there quietly, intrigued. As often as Jono and I are tempted to slurp milk off the table, I'm thinking he must've picked this up at daycare. Either that or we're in denial he's becoming a little boy. He's so nonchalant lately. When one of us walks into the room he casually raises a hand and says, "Oh, hi."

He seems to have picked up on the social cues of an older child.

For now I'll just watch. And laugh.

Upper Peninsula

Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan
(Photos by Tyler)