Sunday had been a "FOOD!" themed day from the off, Thomas had started by snaffling some baby wipes while I was doing his morning nappy, then proceeding to (violently) clear every work top at his height (his little cupboard and the incidental table etc.) of any toys while I was in the kitchen doing his milk drink, forcing me to issue a sharp "QUIET Thomas! Mummy is sleeping!"...when I turned around and opened the stair kitchen gate I realised he had cleared the tops of toys in order to thoroughly clean them with the wipes...So, he got a "Very clever boy!" for that, which was answered by a quick dash across the living room, the words "FOOD PEEEEZE DADDY!!!" and a firm point at the play box containing his little saucepans and plastic and wooden food items...Okay, no problem... ;)
We spent the next hour repeatedly, but happily, eating chopped wooden pears prepared in various ways (pear a la kettle, fried pear with potato, oven baked pear with asparagus) each time Thomas saying "All Cooked Daddy!", me taking a pretend nibble and then saying "Mmm, thank you, that's delicious! Yum yum!"...
So him being in a bit of a foodie state of mind, when it came time for breakfast and I asked him what he wanted he said "Bread - DIP DIP!" and then "Pasta!", "Okay" I said as he reached up to be lifted into his high chair...after slicing some nice, fresh granary bread and pouring him a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar into a dish I popped them down on his high chair and went back to the kitchen to collect him some olives at which I was suddenly subjected to the most horrific gagging/drowning sound I think I have ever heard, causing me to immediately drop everything and rush quickly back into the living room where I was *just* in time to see him *drinking* the last drops of the dip (blinking tears from his eyes with a very miserable look on his face)...I handed him his water double quick saying "Thomas, drink this it will make it feel better" (which he did)...and (thank goodness) his normal colouration and rate of breathing slowly returned...
The next words (croakily and quietly) out of his mouth ?
So on Sunday, Thomas was busying himself noisily making a huge mess with water and sand in the garden (as he does) when all of a sudden he comes flying through the patio doors holding his dripping spade yelling "Pider!!! Pider!!!" (and looking a bit freaked out) - which was rather unusual as the last *two* times he came across one - while on holiday in Cornwall and while in Reigate Fort - it required great restraint to stop him crushing them to death in his enthusiasm to become more intimate...So, stepping outside (him clinging, wetly, to my leg) me clutching a newspaper (picturing some sort of Shelob type encounter) we prowled the garden cautiously until I saw the source of his alarm, a little bumble bee, suspended in the rain water half-filling his sand table..."That's not a spider Thomas, it's a bee" I explained and suddenly all his nervousness disappeared..."Hewwo Bee" he said and poked it with the spade at which it gave a very unenthusiastic twitch, but was certainly still in the land of the living, so, I grabbed the spade from Thomas before he accidentally crushed the poor little creature to oblivion and we lifted it from the water and set it in the sun, sitting and watching as it slowly dried out, finally (after much experimental wing flapping) flying away to it's hive (much to Thomas' delight - "FLYINNNN!!!" he said pointing into the air and jiggling up and down...so when this morning he announced "PIDER!!!" again I was quick to correct him, "No Thomas, it was a bee wasn't it, did we save it from drowning in the water?" but such was his insistence as he said "PIDER!!!" again, I left the kitchen to come and check...and yep, there was a little spider cowering in terror as Thomas' huge hand hovered inches about it's head, so I got a bit of tissue paper and we rescued it into the garden (to a little wave and "Bye bye pider!") but I have to say, I am a bit confused as to exactly when spiders became something to be (if even just ever-so slightly) wary of, rather than to chase and attempt to eat (like ants/woodlice/grapes etc.)...is this something we have unconsciously managed to pass on to Thomas (even though on each occasion we've encountered one together before I've been *very* brave) or is this some sort of genetic defense mechanism manifesting itself?
So yesterday, after spending an awfully long time watching the rain Formula one, Thomas came over clutching a number of objects (his latest fad is to try and hold at least three things at once, preferably more, while he is walking around), the first was put on the table in front of me and Thomas announced "Racing Car!" to which I replied "Yes Thomas, that's right! Racing Car! Have we been watching racing cars on the television"? He Formula-One-car-noised it rapidly over the table a few times and then turned to the little model horse he was clutching under his arm. "Racing Horse!" he said, putting it carefully down - "Yes" I said "You can have *race* horses..." (correcting him slightly) and he clip-clop-noised it quickly across the table stopping next to the little racing car...last but not least, down went the final object...(and after thinking carefully for a moment) "Racing Cow?" he proposed..."Urm" (I said, pausing to think for a moment myself) "no...no not usually" I was forced to admit..."Okay" said Thomas, and pushed it onto the floor... ;)
Well, Thomas seems to be finally starting to get his colours, the trick was to divide the statements into two when instructing him, our first approach had been to explain to him "That's a Red Car", the trouble was, he had already imprinted that the correct answer to the question "What colour is it, Thomas?" was "Lellow"...He hasn't nailed it yet by any means, but (Daddy trying very hard to remember) saying "That's a Canoe - The Canoe is the colour Orange", in much the same way as he constructs little sentences like "Stones - Lots!" (at Brighton Beach) he has begun to say "Canoe - Orange", I think it would be wise to try and limit the colours at this stage, but at least we've managed 2 or 3... ;)
On the bad side? An oddly negative Baby Einstein experience...each morning (at the moment, a few weeks ago he was obsessed with "Mr Men") he emphatically demands one of the episodes (usually "Animals!", "Shapes!" or "Go!") and they *are* brilliant, they have helped to add so many words to his vocabulary including things like "Macaw", "Trigger Fish" and "Meerkat", the only problem was catching him the other day (only the once, but still) saying the word "Giraffe" in a perfect American accent...hrm...have to keep a close eye on that one! ;)