Momo Mania!

How is it that a kid who has only ever seen the Weather Channel loves Elmo? The wily red devil has invaded Jonathan's heart. It started innocently enough with a very weird toy that appeared in our house one day. It's a plastic Elmo music player - if you hit the button enough times, Elmo will sing his special song in a cracked, tinny voice. Next, Jonathan realized that his Sesame Sings! CD had two Elmo songs. I bought it for the classics - "C is for Cookie" (Chris does a great rendition, by the way) and "Sing a Song." But all Jonathan wants to hear is "Happy Dancing with Elmo" again and again and again. That high-pitched squeaky voice is going to drive our nanny to quit soon. Jonathan braces himself against the stereo table so he can shake his booty with suitable vigor.

We went shopping at Target for some winter clothes for Jonathan. It was poor timing, however, because they had Halloween costumes mixed in with the jeans and rugby shirts. Once Jonathan saw the Elmo suit, it was all over. You haven't seen pathetic until you see Jonathan hanging over the handle of the shopping cart, turning purple as the seatbelt cuts off his circulation at the waist, moaning for Elmo. A stronger parent than I would have caved. I thought it wouldn't be all bad, though - I needed to get Jonathan a Halloween costume for trick-or-treating anyway.

It turns out, though, that Jonathan wants to play with the costume, not wear it. When we cram him in it, he gets distressed that his arms and legs have suddenly sprouted red fur, and begs us to take it off. Once off, he loves to cuddle the deflated Elmo skin, kissing the orange nose and smoothing the fuzz. Elmo's skin drapes over the playpen and I have to tuck it in every night. When you see the head peeking out from a blanket that is otherwise absolutely flat, it looks like Elmo's had an accident with a steam roller.

Note to overeager grandparents: Do NOT buy Jonathan TMX Elmo. The skinned version is creepy enough. If we get one that can stand up and walk around, I'm afraid what vengeance it might take for its deflated sibling.

Nuts for Soup

If it's hot and it's liquid, it's on the menu! Jonathan is a little "Soup Nutsy" these days. When he wakes up in the morning, he asks for soup before he's even out of his PJ's. He wants soup for lunch and soup for dinner. When he's hiding by ducking under the coffee table, or wedging himself between the playpen and the sofa, he'll come out if we offer him some soup.

He's pretty good using a spoon to polish off a bowful of Daddy's garlic mashed potatoes, but he still needs a lot more practice before he'll be able to handle broth. We're all eating together these days, and Chris and I aren't willing to spend all of suppertime keeping up with his appetite. So we bought a package of diposable straws, the widest we could find. This is important because otherwise the noodles get stuck and we spend all evening blowing them back out. We pour the broth into his mug, warn him "Hot! Hot!", drop in a straw, and let him at it. He gives a big "Ooooohhhh!" when we set the mug down. A minute later, the mug is empty and he's asking for more.

Soup just isn't soup without noodles; fortunately, just about anything counts as a noodle. Today he polished off the wonton dumplings and was left with unadorned broth. As he got to the bottom of the mug, he started delving for noodles with his straw and coming up empty. He gestured towards my long carrot threads that come as a garnish with my pad thai. I gave him a small handful and he placed them carefully on the tray. He picked out one five inch-long thread and carefully lowered it into the bowl. Then he drank down his soup, secure in the knowledge that there would be something tasty to fish out at the end.

You silly goose.

Our bedtime routine is in a bit of upheaval these days. I got a little tired of Jonathan hiding behind his crib, planting himself facedown in his pillow when it's time to brush teeth, and thrashing around when I put on his pajamas. So I bought a book on discipline called "1-2-3 Magic." I don't want to rehash the whole thing here, but basically, I needed a book to tell me how to count to three when Jonathan's misbehaving. The book suggests timeouts once you get to three, but obviously that doesn't work well at bedtime. Instead, when I get to three, I take away one of his three bedtime books.

For the first few days, Jonathan lost all three books, and wailed as soon as I turned out the lights for his snuggle. Actually, he switched between wailing and pathetic pleading: "Moon? Moon? MOOOON!" But we got through that and he settled in to sleep. Then, the counting started to click. He would run and hide behind and the crib, and I'd say "Jonathan, that's one." He'd come out and look at me, and carefully put one hand out, then pull it back. He was so clearly trying to see what he could get away with! I kept counting and he finally made it through the routine losing only two books. After that, things were pretty good. He still faceplants when I go to get the toothbrush, and won't flip over when I ask. But now when I say "That's one" he says "Two!" and then sits up and opens his mouth.

One thing he won't lose is the goodnight story, where I tell him about his day. Like everything about bedtime, this has some ritual elements. The nanny always writes down his menu, so I wind up recounting breakfast and lunch in great detail. Our farmshare has been so fantastic that Jonathan knows the names of many many fruits by now. So he usually chimes in when I describe lunch. "Plum! Peach! Soup!" And when I talk about me or Chris coming home, we always say "HEELLLLOOOO Jonathan!" And Jonathan pipes up with "Jon-Jon!" at that part of the story. Finally, just as I'm gearing up for the finish ("So that was a really good day!") Jonathan decides for some stalling tactics. He'll ask to eat, or drink, or for milk, or soup. I've incorporated those into the ritual as well, so he doesn't fuss when they don't work.

He'll say "Eat! Eat!" and I'll tell him "YOU don't need to EAT!" "Drink! Drink!" "YOU don't need to DRINK!" He giggles. Last week though, instead of moving on to milk, the next usual request, he said "Goose!" I was caught a little short and asked him "You want to eat a goose?" It struck me as funny, so I started to laugh, and that in turn delighted Jonathan, who laughed even more. And if "goose" is funny once, it's obviously more funny if you say it a lot more! So Jonathan kept repeating "goose" and I got the giggles, and then he giggled, and around and around we went. He got to bed late that night.

Now "goose" is our private joke. Jonathan always makes sure to say it as we're getting ready for bed, and even offered it once hoping to throw off my counting. He went up to Chris the other night and said it several times, and looked perplexed when Chris didn't laugh. Jonathan came over to me and got the laugh he was looking for, and Chris felt a little left out until I could explain.