They are funny.
The Chick had his 9 mo. check-up the other day. Just shy of 24 lbs (he lost weight since the ear infections - too much mobility), and 29 inches tall. That puts him in the 90th percentile over all and much bigger than, well, 90% of the kids his age.
This week he has started spitting. It's icky. I do not care for spitting. He thinks it's hilarious. He has also invented a fake, mocking laugh. That is actually pretty funny. I wish I had it on video but alas, the kid just wants to eat the camera instead of perform for it.
And my 3 year old Monkey? The big conversation of the week has been about whose the boss. No, not Tony Danza. He wants to know who is in charge of stuff - and people for that matter. Basically, it breaks down like this (according to him)
Mom is in charge of herself and Chicker and dinner.
Dad is in charge only when mom goes to newtual (mutual) on Tuesday nights.
Elliott is in charge of himself and the forks.
Part of this discussion of "in-charged-ness stems from setting the table every night, and whether or not it's okay for the big brother to shove cheerios and other items into the little brothers mouth. You see, that's not okay - because Mom is in charge of Chicker and only Mom gets to help him eat cheerios.
And in some sad family news - on Wednesday night we had a death in the family. Blue Fish, our blue beta fish died. He was old. We got him in November and he lived a long life as our fish that we didn't really take great care of, but we did feed regularly because mom was in charge of that.
Right before dinner last night I discovered him "sleeping" on his rocks. As father and son washed dishes after dinner, they "discovered" Blue Fish and had a talk about why fish die when they get old. The kid wasn't quite sure how to deal with it - whether to be sad and cry, or just sort of laugh it off. It was very cute and sweet to see him waiver in between emotions like that - he's sucha good boy.
After a bit of talking, father and son decided to bury blue fish in the flower beds out front. I guess it's morbid, but I just had to take a picture of my sweet little boy digging a hole for his first pet to be burried.
He dug the hole, dad dropped the fish in and as together they covered him with dirt, they said goodbye - and told Blue Fish that he was a really good fish.
It was a beautiful service.
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