Are You Sure You're 3?

The cake had a bunch of candy as decorations, and Sam had been talking about getting cake -- and then talking about which piece he wanted -- for days. He blew out his candles, excitedly grabbed the candy-filled piece he wanted, and...

...pecked at it for about an hour. It wasn't that he wasn't enjoying it, but it sure seemed like he was happier to have than to eat. We gave him his cake at 11:30am Sunday morning, and he finished eating his piece at about 7pm Monday night. Aren't kids supposed to stick their faces in the icing or something?

Not that this is a bad thing, mind you; we know that we can give him cake without fear of a sugar rush...

(After thinking on this a little bit, I wonder if it's because we give him little bits of candy fairly regularly. He often has one or two little treats -- a jelly bean, an inch of a candy cane, a swedish berry -- a day, so he both wasn't jonesing for sugar and was used to only having a bit at a time. Maybe we're accidentally brilliant!)

Sam's Birthday Party

It was great. The party was Sunday morning, and Sam went to bed in a great mood -- the one where he's bubbly and excited about everything, but still listens (sort of) and is a good boy. Happily, he woke up in the same mood (and it's lasted until now so far). We had a couple of last minute kid drop-outs (life got in the way in one instance, and the Norwalk Virus in the other), so there were only 3 kids Sam's age, but he seemed pretty happy with that.

I know that starting probably next year, we'll have to have organized events for birthday parties, but boy, are 3-year-olds ever easy to plan for! We had one game where they threw foam blocks at targets, and a bunch of balloons to play with. That was it, and that was all they needed. (Come to think of it, that's about all we'd need at an adult party, too! Oh, and drinks.)

We threw things, we ran around, we played with balloons, we opened presents, and then we had cake. Then everybody went home, and we had naptime. Fantastic!

Instant Chaos

I've been meaning to talk about this one for a while, because it just keeps happening -- and I get the impression that it'll be this way for, well, ever.

I first really noticed it at Christmas. Julie was taking a nap, and Nana and Poppy had Sam out for lunch. Joey and I were playing on the floor together (at least as much as he played a couple of months ago), and the house was quiet. I heard the garage door open, and then

the door is open and people are bustling and Sam is wailing and Joey starts crying and Julie comes downstairs and Nana and Poppy are talking to each other and possibly to me and it turns out Sam fell down the stairs (he's fine, but shaken) and Joey is still crying -- probably because of the bustle and

my heart rate and my blood pressure are double what they were not half a minute ago.

It's amazing how the noise and activity levels can shift so radically, so quickly. I'm not sure whether it's because we have two kids, or because of Sam's age, but I suspect yes. Sometimes it happens when we try to sit down for supper; sometimes it's the middle of the night when they both wake up and are upset. Sometimes it's the middle of the morning when everything is just lovely. I've given up trying to understand, and am just working on letting it wash over me, like a loud tide.

The Cake

Today was Sam's 3rd birthday party. More on that later, but for now: The Cake!

Great job, Mama!

Snippets

On why we couldn't move one of the two stepstools out of the bathroom:

"...This stool is that stool's friend!"

__________________

Sam picked up a couple of coins off my nightside table, and asked if he could have them. I said that he could. He looked at me and said, "It's probably mine."

__________________

While at breakfast recently, Sam was squirming relentlessly in Julie's lap.

"You'll have to go back to your own chair if you don't stop squirming," she said. Immediately he sat still except for his hands, which he started shaking in front of him.

"My hands are squirming!" he cried.

***

When his hands inevitably banged into each other, he stopped, stared at one of them, and asked Mama, "My hands touched - can you put this hand in a timeout?"

Sleeptalking

If only we had a tape recorder or something in his room...

Sam has always talked a little bit in his sleep. It's typically been the occasional word, with a phrase or two every now and then, and he's only done it maybe half a dozen times. Two nights ago took the cake.

For about three hours, he'd periodically have conversations, little two or three minutes talks. There was some other party involved, I think; he had the right pauses, and seemed to be responding at times. Neither Julie nor I ever made anything out, though, except once: I walked up to his door to see if I could hear any more clearly -- note that he was speaking very clearly and distinctly, just not quite loud enough -- and I heard him say, "Wake up. Wake up!" then something else.

I hope he keeps doing it; it really is the coolest thing. (Of course, it might have been cooler for me if I hadn't just finished a Stephen King novel where a little girl's imaginary friend turns out to be a creepy something-or-other, but that's my hangup, I suppose...)

Plague and Apocalypse

Outcast! Unclean! Staye away from this house, all ye who would remaine whole!

...in other words, the kids are sick. Joey been congested for a week and a half now, and isn't that fun; his nose is stuffed up, and he sleeps with a soother. Let me repeat that; he can't breathe through his nose, and he sleeps with something stuck in his mouth. We now have a humidifier in his room, nasal drops, vaporub, and a pillow propping him up to sleep. (It seems to be working; the last couple of nights have been almost normal sleeping for him.)

Sam picked up a chest cold, I think. His nose is running like a faucet -- and he's in a "I refuse to blow my nose for any reason" phase right now -- and he's got a nasty, racking cough. As well, if you listen to him, his ear/throat/arms/knee/hand/belly/back hurts. Nothing consistent, which leads me to believe that nothing else is really wrong, aside from him having a bug of some sort. I don't want to say that he's faking; when he's miserable, he's the most pathetic thing you've ever seen. It's just that he goes from miserable to normal (yelling, jumping off the stairs, telling jokes) in the space of 15 seconds or so, and vice versa. My guess is he'll be fine in a day or two.

Now, as long as no one opens the 3rd vial...

That Was A First...

Sam woke up about 10:30pm, as is his wont, and he had to go pee. At least, I'm assuming he did, based on past behaviour; he wasn't coherent enough to actually say anything intelligible. We got to the bathroom, he sat down and leaned his head onto my shoulder.

And then he fell asleep.

I mean, totally out. Not dozing, not just resting, snoring. On my shoulder. On the toilet.

I almost didn't have the heart to wake him, but a) I've gotta think waking up on the toilet would be mighty disorienting, and b) I was in a funny squinched up position -- and didn't really feel like staying on the floor by the toilet for much longer.

I scooped him up, tucked him back into bed, and he was out again before the covers finished settling.