Despite the last couple of rainy days, it's been quite a lovely, sunny summer here on our island in the Pacific. We're topping out at the low 70s, high 60s most days, with a bright blue sky. I feel I must give Victoria its due on this, what with all the bitching I did about the weather last winter. (FYI-stay tuned for more bitching this winter. Frankly I don't see any way around it.) Anyway, I like to read weather reports from around the world, because they're interesting and because I obviously need a job. In fact, I keep the weather in old Modesto tabbed on my phone, and occasionally I check it just to reminisce and marvel that I survived.
But on to more important news!
Kurt likes to throw things. It's charming when the things he's throwing are rocks, and he's doing it on a beach at summertime, like so….
…and fun to have my typical one way conversation with him at such times. "Hey, Kurt! Look, a rock! This one looks especially aerodynamic!" Vancouver Island beaches are pretty much made for this kind of pursuit, being ninety percent rock to 10 percent sand. That said, the beaches here are growing on me, because they have trees, which are pretty. These are not really swimsuit beaches, of course, not that it stops the college girls, but I don't mind so much, as I was never very fond of swimsuits, even when I was skinny, which I really was once! (High school friends, you are welcome to comment.)
(The throwing things is less charming when the things are blocks and the location is his bedroom, about a foot or so from where, say, Sylvia is sitting. In fact, his throwing things reached its zenith while Sylvia was visiting, probably because we were yelling at him to stop it all the time.)
Anyway, Kurt is also very fond of throwing things off our balcony, and before we realized that was what he was doing, things were just missing, including Jeff's phone,which survived. Nowadays we've managed to titrate the volume of thrown objects to his foam letters, and the reason we can't make ourselves stop him is that he names the letters as he's throwing them, and also sometimes sends them off with a greeting that sounds a little like buh-bye, but not quite. It's convenient, knowing that when you're standing in the kitchen and you hear, "D! Buh-bye! Y! Buh-bye!" that your kid is more or less not getting into trouble. But it also means our front yard always looks like this:
His vocabulary is growing. Fan! Feet! Chicken! Ball! Suckie! (Pacifiers are called suckies in this house.) Cool! Train! Ball pit!, which is apparently the first thing he asks for when he arrives at his therapy appointments each morning. And of course, Cookie! Crash! and Guitar!!!
I was not prepared for the way the sweet sound of that little voice trying to say words would strangle my heart.
Here are a few more pictures of our guy doing his thing, including some more pictures of his smooshed face, which has healed nicely:
He keeps Maria company during tummy time.
He has also commandeered Maria's Sleep Sheep, which brings his bedtime entourage to three, with Bunny and Tad the Leapfrog. Bunny also occasionally keeps him company at mealtimes, when he doesn't eat:
Kurt wears this t-shirt a lot, and it is the only item of clothing I have ever heard him offer comment on ("Guitar!")….