Enzo Cop

The Olivet household has a new member. Meet Enzo:

Aaaah… look at him… isn’t he sweet? Yeah… one time, Mommy found him dragging a two-pound roast – which had been marinating in a bag on the counter – across the floor of the kitchen. He also likes to take the kitchen sponge, only to abandon it in random places around the house. Oh, and he won’t stay out of Mommy’s plants or off the counter. Other than that, he’s just a joy!

Needless to say, Enzo’s name is most commonly followed by “no.”

You like Enzo, for the most part. I guess it’s more like you tolerate Enzo. You’ve tried to pick him up, arms squeezed around his waist, his tail pointed directly into the air, head dangling at your feet. I suppose that means he tolerates you, too. It seems lately, though, you’ve appointed yourself The Enzo Cop.

At the very sight of Enzo, no matter what he’s doing, you start the sentence “Enzo not…” Sometimes you even have to pause to think about which rule you will enforce. “Enzo not on the counter.” Good. “Enzo not on the ground.” Confusing. “Enzo not on the blanket.” We need to learn to share. “Enzo not over there.” You’ll need to be more specific.

Most of the time, you’re spot-on. I can simply grab the squirt bottle and aim it the direction you’re facing and the problem is solved.

Now, the only lesson left is that his butthole is not his bellybutton.

‘Tis a Beautiful Thing…

Alyssa introduced you to this magical thing called Sidewalk Chalk. For days, you wanted to sit outside and draw on the driveway. Roll in the chalk. Lay in the chalk. Make lines, and dots and scribbles with chalk. You’d wake in the morning and say “Go outside play with chalk.” It was the first thing you’d think about when you woke up from a nap… you even had your own designated pair of chalk shorts. It lasted for about 3 days and then you found your next love affair. Although, I’m fairly certain if I mentioned sidewalk chalk today, you’d run right out… it’s just that you’d now have to wear mittens.

Yes, you turned 2 months ago!

And here’s the pictures to prove it!

Not yet, but just getting a feel for things.

Overdue Photos, Filed Under Miscellaneous

Indiana Jones:

Mr. Potatohead:

Your first bee sting, and subsequent swelling:

What’s On Your Mind?

You’ve now reached that age that everything that runs through your mind immediately comes out your mouth. I rarely have to keep an eye on you, since there seems to always be a running commentary on what you’re doing. This morning, however, was an example of verbal diarrhea like nothing I’ve ever heard.

Alyssa opened the door to my office to show me how cute you were heading out to storytime at the library. You had on your sweater, vest and winter hat, carrying your juice cup. She opened the door, and in a span of about 15 seconds, the following words came out of your mouth, in this order:

Mommy!
That’s Igloo!
No Barking (Note: Igloo wasn’t barking)
Enzo, no!
That’s green!
Hat!
Juice!
I love you!
Carseat!
Library!
Bye-Bye!
Momma go to work.

… and those were the words I understood. Alyssa and I both looked at each other, mouths open, shaking our heads… because at this point, well, there’s just not a lot to say.

Simply a Blur

Tears came to my eyes this morning as I was reading through your blog and looking at all the time I had spent documenting the wonderful little stories when you were a baby. There are so many wonderful stories I want to document now. So many wonderful things you do on a daily basis. I’m trying.

Life has been a complete blur this year.

Your Running Joke

A couple of weeks ago, we saw a bunny in the yard eating the grass. You then got on your hands and knees, put your head in the grass and pretended to eat. This then morphed into pretending to eat just about anything. You take a big bite, and make a “munch-munch-munch” sound, look at me and say “I’m eating.”

One day, you were sitting in the family room pretending to eat the carpet. I asked “Asher, what are you eating?” You looked at me with all seriousness and said “the ground,” like, “duh, Mom. Isn’t it obvious?” So I asked, “What does the ground taste like?” And, again, you looked at me with this serious face and said “Like chicken!” It was the funniest thing I had heard in a long time and I laughed and laughed. I then told the story to Daddy and he laughed and laughed. Then I told the story to Alyssa and she laughed and laughed. Then I told the story to Grandma and Grandpa and they laughed and laughed.

By this time, you had realized you said a joke. It made people laughed and you loved it! So, we weren’t entirely surprised that when Grandma, Grandpa, Daddy and I were sitting around the table talking and you wanted some attention, you came up to me and said “Like chicken!” with this little grin on your face. Of course, we laughed and laughed.

So, this is now your running joke. When you want to make us laugh, you just yell really loud “like chicken!” When you’re in trouble and you want to ‘lighten the mood’ you quietly whisper, with a little grin on your face, “like chicken.”

So, the other day after one of your jokes, I asked “well then, what does chicken taste like?” And your reply: “Like applesauce.”

Duh, Mom.

No Singing

I have no idea where this came from or how it started. However, we’ve come to realize that when I say no to something you are doing, want to do or thinking about doing, you immediately reply “No singing.” At one point it was “Mommy’s sorry for singing” and then just morphed into an automatic “no singing” reply:

You: “Take the bike on the stairs. Take the bike on the stairs.”
Me: “Asher, we’re not going to take our bike on the stairs.”
You: “No singing.”

You: “Please help me take the lid off. Please help Asher take the lid off.”
Me: “Asher, we leave the lid on the toothpaste.”
You: “No singing.”

Okay, so I’ll admit it. Obviously, this just drives home the idea that my singing simply is a form of punishment. Sometimes you just need a two year old to deliver the bitter truth!

Belly Button Hurt

Tonight we let you have some sorbet after you ate like such a big boy at dinner. Problem is, you really like ice cream and sorbet and tend to scarf it down really quickly. We try to warn you about eating it too fast, to no avail. So halfway through your dessert, you turned to us gripping your shirt said “Bewy buttin huwt.”