So this is I think the fourth haircut we've given Spence in his short, less than two years of life. He was such a good boy for the whole thing. For the previous three cuts, he had to sit in Joe's lap, where Joe was obliged to basically pin him down. This time, he was just a perfect angel, sitting all by himself, holding perfectly still, even bending forward and gripping the bars of the stepping stool for me to get the back of his head. Precious! I just love how tiny he looks in this picture and how far down I had to reach to clip his little head. Such a little boy acting so grown up. *sniff* And yes, I've got a belly. I feel huge, and I still have three months to go. Yikes.
Spence is 23 months old today. Just a month to go before I stop counting his age in months! Yes! I thought it appropriate on this momentous occasion to include some of the more entertaining Spencerisms.
* Spence calls sneezes "Bess yous." If he sneezes twice, he says, "Two bess yous!"
* At random, Spence will say, "How 'bout ... groceries?" I don't know why this phrase has stuck in his little head. I was using the bathroom yesterday, and he was talking to me under the door, as usual. "Mommy potty," he said. "Yep, Mommy's going potty," I agreed.
Pause. "How 'bout ... groceries?"
* Spencer's counting is improving daily, but for some reason, he loves the numbers 5 and 8 in Spanish. So his counting goes something like this: "One, two, two, two, cinco!" (He always gets hung up on "three.") Or "One, ocho, two, two, two, ocho, ... sick-seben-eight-nine-ten!"
* Spence can distinguish between the following vehicles: city bus, school bus, double bus, fire truck, car, Daddy truck (all pick-ups),
big truck, cement truck, garbage truck, mail truck, airplane, motorcycle, and bike. I find this impressive and very male.
* Spence loves anything that has to do with fire, particularly candles. He talks about blowing them out all the time, but unfortunately, he can't say "blow out." He says "poop out," or sometimes just "poop," which has made for such hilarious repeated statements as "I poop candles" and "I poop fire." Joe and I about die with silent laughter every time.
* Spence has started scolding himself before he's about to do something naughty. When I hear in a warning little tone of voice, "Spencer ... Spencer ... Buddy ... No, do dat!" coming from the other room, I know that speed is of the essence.
Happy 23 months of life, buddy! We love you times a million!
This is what Spencer has dubbed the newest addition to our home. I've tried several times to help him sound it out, but he's getting bored with my attempts, which now go something like this:
Notes to self for future tree-chopping excursions:
