0, C220, w

What on Earth? What code is this of which you speak?
Well, Mom and I went for a little walk. My two favorite things to do on walks is to ask, "Uh dah?" (What's that?) and to play a game we call Captain Obvious, which involves pointing out stop signs, noses, dogs, birds, etc. Mom gets excited when I tell her all the stuff I know.

What Mom didn't realize was that the sole purpose of our walk this day was for me to practice my reading...
First there was zee-uh.

That's zero, for the uninitiated.

Then we hit too.

Cee too too zee-uh, to be more exact.


And then, just because I was really showing off, dub-uh.


Mom was pretty impressed, though I refused to play with those C23x series labels. Three. What a silly number. Everyone knows 0, 2, and 5 are the coolest. 7 isn't too bad. And 1 is ok, but 3? Come on.

Big Chair Shout Out

We all know that high chairs are for babies. And I.Am.NOT.A.Baby. I am a BIG BOY.
The biggest*.

Unfortunately, if you try to put me in a regular chair, the affect is something like this:

Cute.

But not so conducive for eating. Or much else.

Enter Nana and Pops and their AWESOME, totally rocking (not literally) chair. For me.
My big boy ergonomically designed chair -- for the dining table (and beyond).


That will grow with me.


I like that I can get in and out by myself. Because we all know, "I do. I do." Plus, there's a place to rest my feet. That dangling action is really not conducive to eating.

special thanks to Blogger for rotating Mom's picture!

See: Much happier eating.

Besides, we all know that the Swedes (designers of the original Stokke chair) know a thing or 2* about furniture design.


I mean, see how happy this kid is about his Stokke? One can only hope that my enjoyment (and size) will reach this level for meal time.

Thanks to Nana and Pops! Happy Meal*** takes on a whole new meaning!


* apparently this attitude is known as a Napoleon Complex. Whatever that means.
** incidentally, 2 is my favorite number. So much so that I prefer to count zero, two, two, two, five. Mom didn't realize what a can or worms she opened in trying to get me to answer the question, "How old are you?" a little ahead of schedule.
*** I have no idea what a Happy Meal is. I also have no idea what a sucker is, which elicited a look of shock and, dare I say, extreme concern from a food vendor at the BBQ and Blues festival last weekend. Really, Mom, you gotta get on the ball and start teaching me about the the 6th food group.

Pumpkin Patch

We went pumpkin shopping. You know, in honor of Halloween.

So orange, so round.

So Orangeman-like.

Tres Marcus.


Did I mention tasty? Mmmm.

First, find the right pumpkin...


This one is nice.


Tastes good.


Bring it on over.

Arrange them pretty. All done. [brush hands off]

This Halloween thing is getting better and better.

And then we went out to dinner. For practice. I apparently get to go to a fancy dinner soon, and Mom and Dad are a tad worried about my table manners. Or lack thereof.
It went pretty well.
I mean, pizza is clearly poison*. (Clearly nothing fancy about dinner.) That Mom, she's always trying to poison me. Though I did branch out and try blue cheese dressing. Not a fan. What can I say, I heart mint dressing.

On the way home we stopped to take a picture of this crane hanging out in our neighbor's yard.

It almost looked like a statue.

We got home, brushed my teeth, and then Mom gave me her dish gloves, you know, since she didn't have to do dishes -- a really nice perk. Usually I have a little tantrum during dinner clean-up: How dare Mom use her gloves to do the dishes.


* "I sah-ee" (I'm sorry), Grampa. I know, it's blasphemy.

On tap

The first weekend in October, Dad got his teeth cleaned. I know. Exciting.
Look at those pearly whites. I appear blinded by them.

Ok, not really, but it was not a wasted trip: The dentist told Dad about this awesome festival at City Park.

Here I am practicing my duck calls

New Orleans is the city of festivals -- we have them for music, animals, people, food, neighborhoods. If you can think of a reason to festival (e.g., days of the week ending in Y), then we've got it. Really, it's just that people here love to eat and drink and are always looking for an excuse to do one or both. We're pretty sure it would take a few years to actually go to every festival here -- and that would be with due diligence since there are often multiple per weekend.

That said, New Orleans on Tap is officially our new favorite festival. It combines beer and dogs.

Hmm, 2 of these cups have beer?I look awfully happy, so it's pretty hard to guess. Eeny meeny miney moe...

Honestly, who could ask for more. Let's count the ways it rocks:

• good cause (SPCA-sponsored)
• free admission
  
• lots of dogs -- all shapes and sizes (Great Dane puppies are really cute in a gigantic kind of way...)
• great food
• awesome music that doesn't cause hearing damage
• not too crowded
  
• beer samples (because who really needs more than a little cup)
• did I mention the dogs? A solid white basset hound. No more description is needed. And I really like those furry ones.

eyeing my next petting victim and considering going pre-dinner berzerkers

Rumor has it that the next festival involves costumes and this thing called candy*, so that sounds fun. That stupid hat Mom keeps trying to stick on my head isn't working for me, but...

*It's true: I don't actually know what candy is. All manner of baked goods -- yes, but not candy. Mom says it with a funny voice, so it must be good.
Hmm, wait, she kind of says broccoli in a fun voice, too. She's a tricky one that Mom. I'm on to her. Forget candy -- it's probably poison. Like frosting... Oh wait, I like frosting now.

Marcus: Part child...

Part mouse. Or gerbil. Possibly hamster.

Really, it's hard to say.


Whoever knew that the plastic from the new lettuce tub could be so exciting. I had to fight Tenzing for it -- clearly I won.
You should see what I can do with this game called fetch.

Up next: Ribbon Dancing

Potty Party

On Sunday, I finished my Star Chart. You may be asking, "What the heck is a Star Chart?" Let us discuss...

About 4 or 5 months ago (who's really counting?), Mom and Dad realized I was interested in using a potty. So, they pulled the one out we had for such a date. And then they bought me another. And then a third one once they realized that I was really digging this whole potty thing (and that they needed one for traveling). I did really well with peeing pretty quickly. I mean who doesn't like to sit and read on the potty?
But pooping. Ahh, pooping. I liked to save that for my diaper. I tried a number of approaches: first thing in the morning before leaving my crib, right after b-fast, right after my nap before leaving my crib. Eventually, Mom and Dad, and Teddy, who was instrumental in this process, realized that maybe I needed a little incentive to poop in the potty...

Along came the Star Chart: For every poop in the potty, both I and the chart got a sticker. I decided that it was a good system. Until it wasn't. We went out of town. Twice. No more poopies. For like 2 months. But then, those stickers were really calling to me. And I started using my potties again. Good times. And I finished those last 2 rows in no time.
We spent a couple weeks just wearing nothing under my shorts for short trips, but those zippers were kind of freaking Mom out. I'd be freaked out, too, if I knew any better. I like the half-naked system at home, but it's less practical (or maybe appropriate) when we're out. We tested having on just shorts at home. Thank goodness, since I didn't quite get it. There was that one puddle in the kitchen, that one waterfall off my high chair (in my defense, I said I was done eating), and that one load in the living room. Yes, I said load. Of the steamy variety. Funny how the shorts don't keep anything in... Oops. Mom was cool about it, reminded me that pee pee and poo poo go in the potty, and then we cleaned. I did my part by spending a week periodically rubbing that spot for her.
Anyhow...
After a few weeks of success, Mom got me some training underwear. I started wearing them this week on Tuesday afternoon. They were a little confusing, but after one accident and one dribble, I caught on to the whole system of taking them off. I get to wear those when we go out. You know, just in case.
But when we're at home, I get to wear nothing OR my super awesome, teeny tiny boxer briefs. They look like Dad's. In fact I think Dad was eyeing them a little too carefully this morning...

Really, do you have any idea how hard it is to find really small underwear for the sub-2, <25 pound set? It's not easy. We have some undies from Target that Mom had gotten as an incentive early on, but now Teddy wears them: they're too big and fall off of me. Which is really irritating to me at home, and really not cool when we're in public.
So there you have it. Potty party at my house. Stickers for everyone!

The Lost Pictures: May-July

I know, I know, I keep forgetting about those pictures on the camera in Mom's bag... well, technically, I'm not supposed to take things out of her bag -- like her credit cards. Umm, oops...

So here's the rundown of all the memories we unearthed:

May
- Syracuse flight and me passed out on Mom. Funny, don't we have a picture like these from every trip?
- Aunt Donna's house and the best tricycle ever

June
- Pontiff Playground with Escipion post-run. E is so fierce! I watered him -- he looked thirsty.

July
- Longue Vue Gardens Ice Cream Bonanza: I got to mow the lawn and then eat ice cream. Who wants to sit still for pictures after all that fun. Did I mention it was like 100 degrees?
- Children's Museum playdate: Always a barrel of monkeys!