Not My Finest Hour

4:46 pm Half of Sam's face is engulfed by a giant canine tongue.

4:53 pm Half of Sam's face breaks out in hives due to said canine tongue.

5:02 pm Shouting, "I cut! I cut!" I turn around to see Sam holding a 10 inch serrated knife he got from the dishwasher.

5:02:30 pm While putting knife away I hear, "Knife! Knife," and Sam hands me a second cutting instrument.

5:10 pm Turn around quickly without seeing Sam and knock him to the floor.

5:14 pm Sam reaches into trash can and pulls out a single piece of pasta I had thrown away while cleaning the fridge.

5:21 pm John returns home and takes Sam to the playground. I note that this might not be a Donna Reed afternoon for me.

Sam strikes again

Sam helped me empty the dishwasher for the first time. One by one he handed me a spoon and then a fork and then a small plate. I was busy putting things away and didn't notice Sam's particular style until halfway through the job. Had I been more observant I would have seen Sam lick every single piece of flatware before handing it to me. Every single piece.

Sam's hat trick

Sam presented John with three gifts for Father's Day:

1. He learned how to count from one to four all by himself.
2. He learned how to give a zerbert.
3. He learned how to pray. We sat down to eat lunch and Sam immediately folded his hands, closed his eyes and said, "Mama, Dada, Elmo, cow. Amen."

Athanasius would be proud

Sam turns a year-and-a-half today. Here's a short clip of some new tricks:

Sam Drury aka Ringo

I think it was punative

This morning found me in the Philly airport waiting in line to board my flight to Nashville. At the front of the line was the ticket taker who took my ticket, said, "We're not boarding Zone 2 yet," and directed me to the end of the line.

Immediately after shooing me away, she picked up the microphone and said, "Now boarding all passengers seated in Zone 2."

Grrrrr.

What's next? A victory garden?

Sam must have lived through a depression in an earlier life. Or at least in some kind of setting where food rationing was a part of daily living.

Sam occasionally breaks out when he eats peas. Normally just when he has copious amounts of peas--which is always a threat because the kid loves his peas (what kind of a cruel universe would make a kid allergic to a VEGETABLE that he actually LIKES?). Not wanting to deprive him of his favorite legume, we occasionally allow him to eat a handful of peas.

Such was the case the other evening at dinner. A few peas. He loved them.

The next morning Sam woke up with a few hives on his face. I was confused. Normally, if Sam breaks out it's within an hour of eating. Chalking it up to a fluke I proceeded to bring him to the breakfast table, where he reached inside his mouth, and pulled out a lone, mushy, green pea that he had been saving in the side of his cheek. All. Night. Long.

Poor kid. He hoards his food in case the next meal is scarce.