Weaned and the letter "B"

I am sure that it is painfully obvious by my blog that I am enamored with my boys. They mean the world to me and I am absolutely fascinated by them. They are my guilty pleasure and I am sure that they are in my life purely for my own entertainment. 

  Orion is just shy of 15 months now. He seams to be stuck on his 7th tooth as we have not had a new tooth emerge in nearly 6 weeks. What he lacks in tooth growth, he makes up for with charm. His favorite thing to do lately is to say "No" or "Stop" while pointing his finger; first pointed straight up with his hand against his face, then slowly extending his arm towards you. He has learned sign language for 'milk' and 'more', and his face completely lights up when he realizes that we understand what he is asking for now. Even with all his cuteness, Melanie with her heart of cold steel, has decided to cut Orion off from his milk supply. She declared me the "weaner" and Orion the "weanee" and then exiled us to the next room to fend for ourselves while she stuck her earphones in and tuned us out. 

  Little did Melanie know that I poses special father (or faja, as Apollo and I call me) powers. After a 5 minute fit the first night, 3 minutes the second, 1 minute on the 3rd, Orion was falling asleep happily and after the first night, he began to sleep through the night. Yup, I got skills. It didn't hurt that I would bribe him with music from my iPhone, which he would hold with a death grip up near his head, and fall asleep to the music.

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  Apollo has been experimenting with expressions, both verbal and physical facial expressions. "Are you kidding me?!" he exclaims, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. It is very dramatic and he has found that these new found skills go hand in hand with sarcasm. He is a fairly bright boy which only helps with his sarcastic personality.  I love having conversations with him as he is actually pretty insightful. I also enjoy watching and liste ning to him interact with other kids. He will often finish sentences when words are left out, or correct words or grammar, and totally does it at a subconscious level.  In a recent conversation with another boy a couple years younger, Apollo, looking slightly puzzled at the indiscernible reply to a question, asked, "Are you speaking spanish?"
   Even though he may correct other kids, there are some words that Apollo mixes up himself. We think it is pretty cute so we let him pronounce them wrong without correcting him...there is plenty of time for that later; Skeleton is pronounced teleskin, vacuum is vaca-ume, and when a toy transforms he says it is trancing-form.  

  I think that Apollo has a descent grasp on language for a boy of 4, and I attribute it in part to reading. Melanie reads stories with him pretty regularly and I read with him a couple times a week as well, however, I spend more time with him playing number and word games than reading. We also work with him on writing and doing word puzzles. It is in these moments that I realize that I could never home school unless it was absolutely necessary. Not because I am impatient, but because Apollo sees me as a playmate and wants to joke around the whole time. We were working on a puzzle a few nights ago that had pictures of different objects and the name of the object written below. The object of the puzzle was to circle words that started with the letter "B". One of the pictures was a hotdog in a bun with the word "hotdog" written underneath. Apollo circled it, along with all the other pictures that started with the letter "B". Hot dog was the only one that was incorrect. I was a little confused by this so I asked him, "Do you know what this picture is?" 

"Yes, " he replied, "It's a hotdog"

"Well then," I asked, "What does 'hotdog' start with?"

"Well dada," came that 4-year-old 'let me tell you something' voice, "it starts with bread."

An angel of destruction

  Not to be outdone by his brother, or anyone else for that matter, Orion is a force of nature. His dark eyes, fair complexion and disarming smile, tell little about the depth and complexity of my littlest guy. He is sheer joy and adventure all wrapped up with stubbornness, determination, and zero fear. He is clever, quick, observant, and ready to take on the world. Orion keeps us all on our toes and requires constant supervision to keep him from hurting himself. Our only break is while he is sleeping, or if we are in the car driving and he is restrained by his car seat. It is pretty exhausting really.

  I love the energy that Orion brings to our lives. He brightens the whole room with his smile. He laughs, giggles, and bosses everyone around with his unintelligible babble. He loves to hug, kiss, and be held, but will throw a fit if you stop moving or even attempt to sit down while holding him. If you keep moving, he will stay content.

  The problem lies in how do you protect someone with zero fear, that is constantly moving and climbing on things. Once he gets hurt and after a breif recovery, he immediately wants to repeat what he just did that got him hurt in the first firstplace; not because he lacks any kind of common sense that says, "Hey, you got hurt last time you did that, you might want to stay away."  but because he is so mad that he fell or messed up the last time thru, and because he knows he can do it, has too much pride to stop himself, and has the need to prove that he can do it right. What a terrific, but dangerous combination. The downside is that Orion bumps his head at least every other day. He gives himself a fat lip or bloody mouth about once a week, and always has a bump, scratch or bruise on him somewhere. We call him Havoc or Destructo Baby because nothing is safe. He climbs on everything and gets into everything.Orion loves to play and rough house and wants to be a part of everything that is going on around him.

  Orion babbles non-stop now. Umongst the babble we have been able to discern a few words and phrase; "All done", "hello", "shoes" (he loves his shoes), "t.v.", and "No!" (while he shakes his finger at you) are among his most used words, not to mention "mama" and "dada".
  Orion is a survivor and is fiercly independant. He wants to do everything by himself including eating and drinking. He is a forager, and feeds himself from the ground, plant and trees. What the chickens can't reach, Orion can. He picks his own tomatoes, figs and plums and eats them. If there is anything left, he will feed it to the four chickens eagerly waiting at his feet.

   Apollo runs hot or cold with his little brother. Sometimes he is very sweet and caring towards him, yet other times, he simply likes to be mean to him. Apollo's favorite passive aggressive behavior, is to mimick Orion when he is crying. It turns out that not only does Orion have a sense of humor, he has learned some tricks from his big brother. Imagine Apollo's horror when he himself got hurt and started to cry; Orion started mimicking Apollo crying; "Whah, whah, whah!" and then burst into laughter.

Chicken Love

  I pick and choose my battles with my wife. Maybe I should rephrase that; I pick and lose my battles. Maybe I am a pushover, maybe I have some bad karma coming my way, or possibly its that I just get zero respect as an authority figure in my own home.   Whatever the reason, It seems that my opinion does not carry much weight around here. My most recent battle lost, was the battle of the chickens.

Here is deal; Melanie has always wanted chickens and we have talked about someday getting a few when we have the right property. About a year ago, our next door neighbor brought home three chickens. That single event started a year long battle that I am sorry to say did not end up in my favor.  For my part, I put my foot down and told Melanie, "If you want chickens, you need to find homes for at least three of our parrots." Yes, we have six large parrots, two of which are incessant screamers that drive me nuts!  I made it abundantly clear that there was no way we were getting chickens anytime soon.

  Needless to say, Melanie brings home four chickens and a small coop from some friends that decided that they didn't want chickens either. As if it wasn't enough of a slap-in-the-face that Melanie brought home chickens, She put Apollo in between us with the biggest guilt trip ever; "Apollo loves his chickens. They are his pets, and he has been asking to get chickens for a long time. Are you going to take them from him and break his heart?"

 Melanie 1, Mark 0.

Yes, I will admit that it is pretty endearing watching Apollo with his favorite chicken, Penelope, but the kid loves all living creatures. He already has a cat, a dog, 6 large parrots, one small cockatiel, 8 fish, hundreds of garden snails and bugs as well as the seasonal tadpoles, frogs, snakes, and salamanders that pass through our yard...isn't that enough? Apparently not! Sure, the eggs are lovely and a healthy alternative to store bought eggs, but come on, these little chickens have poops as large as grade 'A' large eggs... all over my yard... and my patio! My garden and planters have been decimated. The plants have been plucked clean of their flowers, and fruits, and leaves, revealing the very unhappy skeletons of what was once a collection of thriving little shrubs. Did I mention that the chickens already have their own little yard? They are allowed to come out of their yard into mine for a little "enrichment", which must really translate into; "Seek and Destroy".  
  I find myself trapped on Ol' McDonalds Farm, day-dreaming about what it would be like to live in an apartment that allows only one small pet; No screaming birds, no pooping chickens, no snails, and no yard. Like that is ever going to happen. My only respite is to tease Apollo by renaming his chickens; Teriyaki, BBQ, Cordon blue...and then tell him that I am going to eat his chickens.
"Dada! These are my pet chickens! We don't eat our pets!" Apollo protests.
"Okay, but if they stop laying eggs or if they poop on my patio, I will have to eat them." I reply.
"Well, Penelope always lays eggs, and she doesn't poop on the patio."
  I guess I will just have to save Penelope for last.