Rhubarb

Independence Day

We went to the local fourth-of-july festival, your basic small-town-americana celebration, complete with petting zoo, cheerleaders, jug band, and dunk tank.

Ethan spent a few minutes in the petting zoo - unfortunately, the same few minutes in which the llama started trying to kick the children and had to be escorted out of the pen. I now have two experiences with crazed llamas, and... they're crazy! Not good candidates for a petting zoo, but I think that lesson has been learned. 

The handler tried to whisper to the nervous 15-year-old managing the gate: "clear the way, I need to get the llama out." I guess she didn't want to startle the parents, but it made for some high comedy while everyone got on the same page and managed to wrangle the llama through a bewildered crowd without giving anyone cause for a lawsuit.

Meanwhile, one of the goats figured out what was happening long before the teenager did, and scooted out on the heels of the crazed (did I mention that part?) llama, but our friend Ron, coffee in one hand, managed to grab the goat by the scruff of the backside and herd it back into the pen. Without spilling his coffee. Everyone cheered. I was proud to know him. No independence day for you, billygoat!

I think they took the llama behind the veterans building and shot it. Just kidding.

Tucking into the Lions' Club pancake breakfast. They don't charge for 2-year-olds, but Ethan ate this whole plate. We owe the Lions Club $7 - sorry fellows.	Sneaking around the tallest slide he's ever been on - but it's up to modern safety standards so impossible to move faster than a crawl. Yee-haw.
Ethan refusing to participate in the watermelon-eating contest, and distracting Benjamin from winning.	Um, if you're going to hand out American flags, maybe you should find ones that are made in, I dunno, America?
The highlight - a fireman filling the dunk tank. All the other kids are holding the hose... Ethan's wondering if they left the keys in the ignition.	Waiting for the dunk-tank guy to get his act together. Good thing there aren't any real fires burning in California. Um, hang on...

Tuesday Morning

060, originally uploaded by seasara.

Daily life is settling into some routine, although our entryway is still blocked by a boxspring and bed frame. Ethan has asked a couple of times to go "home old place", especially when he is tired of us. I think it's his way of telling us to get lost.

This morning we had breakfast with his giraffe and elephant, both of whom happen to like cereal and with whom Ethan is apparently willing to share. Phil and I are still prohibited from tasting anything that has so much as touched Ethan's plate, or risk provoking the tantrum of tantrums.

The four of us also watched the garbage truck this morning, which we can see from our bedroom window.

055, originally uploaded by seasara.

 

firsts

Uncle Stevie-Grandpa-David Man visited us for the weekend, and Ethan loves nothing better than to be surrounded by adoring family fans. We ate a lot of good food in the neighborhood and let Ethan entertain us, a pretty lazy but wonderful weekend.

Ethan had a pretty good time with his potty this weekend, and even did his first poop on the potty, real cause for celebration. He is very proud to be wearing his underwear at home, and even did a little strip-tease for all of us with his robe & lime green undies. We're trying to keep it low-key, but he's very excited about his potty, even insisted on napping yesterday in his underwear, which ended up in a bit of a laundry disaster but it's so hard to burst the little guy's confidence by making him wear a diaper... I think I need to invest in several more pairs of underwear, and a big box of detergent.

He has also learned to pedal a bike, after several hours of close observation - his m.o. seems to be waiting to try things until he's pretty sure how to do them. He never really wobbled before walking, just stood up and did it. I am a bit like this myself - and unfortunately it sometimes keeps me from trying new stuff. Hence, parenting project #29 is to encourage him to try and falter at a few things. It's bad enough that he seems to have my eyebrows.

potty time!

We have embarked on the ultimate adventure: getting someone 3 feet tall to use the potty regularly.

He has flirted with it for several months, but last week I bought this,

and he started hanging out on there, and even peeing with some frequency. Potty-training is not for the timid: his teachers recommended switching directly to underwear rather than using pull-ups (and the cotton pull-ups offered by our diaper service are only for kids up to 32 pounds, so we're out of luck anyway. In fact, the inability of most diapers to contain him is making this a rather urgent necessity, which we're trying not to convey to him).

So starting this week, Ethan spends his time at home diaper-less, except overnight. He seems pretty keen on it still - we haven't managed to turn it into yet another control game (unlike the other 90% of his daily activities) and he's genuinely proud of himself each time he goes. In fact, he will sit on the potty for ages in the hopes that some pee might trickle out - "Pee coming mommy! Ethan wait pee come mommy!" - just to get the rush I'm sure we all still get from a successful bathroom trip.

I'm a little chagrined that he might be out of diapers before he stops nursing, but since he now spends his mornings watching Curious George videos and sipping coffee from his own cup, I have stopped counting the ways in which actual parenthood isn't quite matching up with my plans.

Go wings!

Finally, a Detroit team Ethan can get into! A little long, but you can hear Ethan singing his favorite song & cavorting around our moving boxes.

Kites

We abandoned the park to the squirrels, and went to watch kites instead. Three things Ethan will watch endlessly: skateboards, trains, and kites. It was finally cool (even chilly by the water!), so we lay on the grass and soaked up the sun like cats.

065, originally uploaded by seasara.

 

056, originally uploaded by seasara.

 

Rodent Park

011, originally uploaded by seasara.

We explored some neighborhood parks this weekend, near the Berkeley Marina. This one is not nearly as nice as it looks. OVERRUN with squirrels. And not just any squirrels, but squirrels who are so malnourished from overpopulation that their tails look like rats', and are ruled by an absurdly obese squirrel mafia that spends a lot of time in the playground, probably waiting for food to fall out of kids' mouths. It was also covered in trash, probably spread by plundering squirrels. Of course this didn't diminish Ethan's enjoyment, but it explains Phil's dour expression.

Ethan saying goodbye

A belated tribute to our old place...

When we went back after moving to pick up a few things, Ethan celebrated by playing football in the empty livingroom. I tried in vain to take pictures of the neighborhood cats, but I did get a shot of one of his favorite landmarks: "gababall broken" - the basketball net missing a hoop. And one of my favorite views from our place - the trees within arms' reach of the kitchen window.

And a look at how his old room looked, soon to be followed by pictures of his new, and of course much better "upstairs room" (which has the added benefit of being much harder to fall out of). We haven't figured out how to replicate the chandelier yet.

Wednesday

A diversion from Ethan, but lots of stories about him tomorrow. (Yes, he still mentions the donkey poop. No future birthday party will be complete without it, I'm afraid.)

Last week I had the perfect doctor's appointment with my new podiatrist (actually, they're not regular doctors, there's a whole separate school for podiatry, like dentistry. I guess the feet are as complicated as the human body, or the human mouth, depending on how you look at it).

They had several years' worth of fashion magazines piled on a table, offered me a glass of water, and took an xray that did not require me wearing a lead apron. I then got to sit in a very comfortable chair (much more comfy than the one at my chiropracter's office, ironically) waiting for the doctor. I amused myself by looking at photos of him with various famous people, including the Oakland As and on Good Morning America (mostly during the 1970s from the looks of it, but still).

After a while, the doctor came in, slapped my x-ray on the screen and said "Here's your problem!" and then pointed out that one of my toes is completely crooked, something I had never noticed before but now seems very obvious. Apparently a crooked toe causes all kinds of mischief, including the debilitating pain that I used as my excuse for not lifting a finger during our move.

He then cut out a little sticky thing for my shoe and told me to come back in a month to have one made for all my shoes, and wished me good day.

I have told several people this story and they're all jealous: it seems everyone has an ailment that can't be diagnosed, fixed, or even replicated in the presence of a medical professional. If you're in the same boat, and are craving the same experience I had, maybe you could slam your toe in a door. Best $15 I ever spent.

Donkey poop

On Sunday Ethan and I went to a birthday party at Fairyland in Oakland, one of his favorite places in the world. Ethan rode the train, saw ducks and rabbits, watched a puppet show, ate ice cream birthday cake, rang a bell, and braved the merry-go-round.

But the highlight of the event was seeing a donkey take a crap. As soon as we pulled up to the house, Ethan yelled "Daddy! Donkey poop come out!" Good times!