Nineteen months and still large and in charge! And doesn't he know it. This kid likes life . . . unless it's not going his way. (in particular, he doesn't like that we've instituted a lap time-out for when he's naughty.) His favorite toys are balls; he rarely goes out in the yard without either the tennis ball or the football. And boy, does he love to throw. Catching, on the other hand . . .
He has begun saying a couple words (thank heaven), so we're working on that still. He understands what we say, but I think he's just content to communicate on his own terms. He doesn't think he needs to talk, so he doesn't do it. Correction: he talks plenty, just not in a language we recognize on Earth.
He also loves cars and trucks. He much prefers the front yard to the back yard for this very reason. He just loves to watch the trucks drive by and wave at them. (he doesn't wave at individual people, but he will wave at the vehicles.) Our neighbors have all started to catch on to his presence when they drive by, and most everybody waves back at him.
Who couldn't love those baby blues?
You'd think that this would naturally mean he's always friendly. But he picks and chooses his friendliness, like any silly kid would. He likes to charm teenage girls at church and in our neighborhood. But being introduced into nursery at church last month was not an easy task for him. Whichever parent tried to drop him off was coerced into staying because otherwise he threw a tantrum. Glen enjoyed snack time, though, so there are perks to hanging out in nursery for two hours. Fortunately, after hearing horror stories from parents who had to stay with their kids in nursery for a year, it seems that Isaac's necessity for us lasted only a month. Two weeks so far without us! Let's keep it up, kiddo!
Ready for church
Lots of people have been commenting lately on how he no longer looks like a baby and is becoming a little boy. To me, he just looks like himself most of the time, and then in a brief moment my "objective glasses" come on, I see a glimpse of how much older he actually is, and I am caught completely off-guard. What happened to that chunky baby who came with us to Roosevelt last year? Not that I'd give the toddler back, because he's lots of fun when he's not hitting us (hence the institution of lap time-out). But it's pretty amazing how much he's changed.
"Boys are beyond the range of anybody's sure understanding, at least when they are between the ages of 18 months and 90 years." -James Thurber