Dax's Journal

A fine future in the service industry

Dax is currently standing at the dinner table taking Cat's order. He's a very helpful server. He's telling Cat exactly what he wants.

"You want chicken. With a big dinosaur ketchup. And more drinkses. And more drinkses. And hot dogs. And more drinkses. You want to eat some fries and some fries and some more fries. You want some chicken or you want some Crispix or Cheerios."

Ok. He's actually just a tad pushy. I don't think he's going to get a very good tip.

(And, no, I have no idea what dinosaur ketchup is.)

Smartypants

Dax is a backseat driver. Seriously. He can frequently be heard shouting directions from the back seat as I'm driving. Sometimes it is to tell me "Go right here. I want to go to the bookstore." Sometimes it is to make sure that I understand that a red light means stop.

Yesterday I was approaching an intersection and, when I was about a block away, the light turned red. From the back seat I heard Dax blasting like a tiny foghorn, "Stooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooop!" I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that he was also, quite helpfully, giving me the universal signal for "stop" by sticking one chubby hand out in front of him. The whole block as I slowed with traffic he continued to yell stop. And then, just as luck would have it, the light turned green before I could actually come to a full stop so he suddenly started chanting, "GO! GO! GO! GO!"

How did I ever manage to drive before he entered such a useful stage in his development?

Today we were fortunate to miss all the red lights and because he was denied the opportunity to prove himself much smarter than his mommy he had to find alternate means to show off his smarts.

"Mommy! Who made that pattern?" He pointed out the front window as he quizzed me. I looked ahead and I could see a thick contrail stretching across the sky. Before I could say anything he said, "An airplane made it. He crossed the sky." Apparently Cat had taught him about vapor trails awhile ago and he remembered it.

I'm always so surprised by what he knows. Please tell me that never ends because it so much fun to be surprised in such a pleasant way.

Mr. Grumpypants

Wanna see Dax's mad face?

Cute huh? And funny, no?

Yes to both. When he's hamming it up for the camera. Not as cute when it is accompanied by screaming that could melt the paint off the walls.

Please tell me that this is normal "almost three years old" behavior and that it will pass quickly.

Natural Progression

I remember the days when Dax would jump off of couches in the living room....well, actually he still does that.

Here he is adding to his Toddler Repertoire by displaying his adeptness at outdoor castle jumping.

If Dax Wrote this Blog

Someday Dax will be old enough to put his own entries here in his blog. In the meantime I thought I'd give you a taste of what he might blog about now if he could type.

From an actual conversation I had with him earlier today:

"I have a dinosaur. He is orange. He has eyes. Blue eyes. He has teeth. They are green and yellow. And red. He is not big. He is not small. He is medium. And he is nice. His name is Dinosaur. He has a nose. A little nose. And a head. He knows a red dinosaur. They are friends. They do things together like go walking and go sliding on a slide. A blue slide."

(By the way, when I asked him what kind of dinosaur Dinosaur is he answered as if I was the dumbest mommy in the world, "A boy!")

Barfarama

Disclaimer: This entry is not for the weak of stomach.

Thursday night Dax was having trouble going to sleep. "Trouble" here means that he was screaming his head off and writhing around as if we'd taken a branding iron to him. And as I was wrestling with him in his bed, Miss Cindi called from school.

"Is Dax.....ok? Is he.....throwing up or anything?"

She continued to tell me about the three children who had already reported in sick as I reassured her that Dax was fine. Sure, he was a bit "not himself" but he hadn't thrown up.

Not until I hung up the phone, that is.

That's right. I hung up the phone and moments later my son unleashed a fury of gastrointestinal distress all over his bed, blankets, pillow, books, toys and ME.

Ick.

He's fine now. In fact, he was only down for the count for that one evening and by Friday it was difficult to keep him resting quietly. When we called Cindi to give her an update we found that the majority of the kids had brought home this virus. The poor woman only had three kids at school that day so she was making the most of her time bleaching every single toy in the house. I could tell she felt terribly about the whole ordeal but it's really not her fault. You get a virus and that many small children in one place and you are sure to get a complete barfarama.

There is just one thing I'm left wondering about, though. How does someone that small produce that much sick in the first place?

*shudder*