The World According to Little F

On Self-Expression:

Little F wakes up crying and both Big E and I go in the check on him.
Me: Did you wake up and get scared?
Little F: No, I just wanted to cry.


On Self-Expression, Part 2:

Little F pointing at my back: What’s that?
Me: It’s my tattoo.
LF: Where’s Daddy’s tattoo?
Me: On Daddy’s arm and chest.
LF: We all have tattoos!  Where’s my tattoo?
Me: You don’t have a tattoo.
LF: I have to go to the tattoo store and get my tattoo.



This was written on July 9th but never published.

Let me preface this by saying that Little F is still sleeping in the same room as Big E and me.  Alright, alright, truth be told he’s still in our bed.  Actually beds, plural, since we have two mattresses pushed together so we all have room to spread out.  But let me also say that Little F is still nursing at night.  Which is why he’s still sleeping in our room, which is why he’s still nursing at night, which is why he’s still sleeping in our room, so on and so forth.

A few weeks ago I dreamed I was in a store and there was an annoying lady who kept coming up to me and tweaking my nipple.  I politely asked her to stop but she kept doing it.  Finally I’d had enough and I told her if she did it again I was going to hit her.  Well, she did it again and true to my word I hit her!  I woke up to find out that I had swatted Little F in my sleep.  He had woken up, crawled over to me, and had started to nurse without me consciously knowing.  He didn’t seem to mind the swat and actually kept nursing, even as I was apologizing to him.

But turn-about is fair play…  Less than a week after my dreaming incident Little F had his own.  I had just come in to bed and he woke up to nurse.  We were carrying on as usual when all of a sudden he bit me.  Ouch!  He hadn’t bitten me while nursing since he was a baby, around four or five months old.

Me as I unlatched him: “You aren’t supposed to bite Mama.  That’s not nice.”
Little F mumbling sleepily with his eyes closed: “…cake…”
Me: “You’re not supposed to bite me.  Wait, what are you saying?”
Little F: “I want more cake,” and he went right back to nursing.

Evidently in his dreams my milk tastes like cake.  No wonder he still wants to nurse in the middle of the night.  I’d love to wake up at 5am for a bite of cake too.

Five Course Dinner

Little F’s dinner was served sporadically tonight.  Or as I like to think of it, in courses.  First came the soup course, or in this case the cereal course: a snack pack of organic Golden Graham knock-offs served in the car on the way home from daycare.  Next came chips and salsa as the appetizer, which he munched while dinner was cooking.  (“It’s ‘picy!  I love it!”)  The third course was the fruit (not-quite-salad), of course.  Little F ate a couple of slices of grapefruit and then two little locally grown yellow plums.  (“I want that,” he said pointing at the plums.)  After the fruit came the main course: pasta with homemade pesto mixed with a little Alfredo sauce and sprinkled with Parmesan cheese to temper it for a toddler’s taste buds.  (“Yummy pasta!”)  Finally, for dessert he had onions.  Little F picked out all of the onions from my wilted beet greens and ate them off my plate.  With my fork.  (“I want tomatoes.”  “Those are onions, not tomatoes.” “I want onions.  Onions are good.”)  Who doesn’t appreciate a five course meal on a Thursday night?

Still Life With Boy

Still Life With Boy: A written description of a moment or moments in time I want to remember.  A lazy mom’s version of a baby book.

Last night I let Little F try some pickled carrots and green beans while I was getting dinner ready.  To my surprise he loved them!  He asked for more and more, eating them from both hands while doing his pickle dance around the kitchen.

Big E came home while we were eating dinner and saw a green bean on Little F’s plate.  He said something like, “Ooo, a pickled green bean!” and Little F said, “Mine!” and pulled it to his chest.  That was the first time he said “mine”, but I’m sure not the last.  Usually he’ll say, “That Little F’s fill-in-the-blank”.

Little F is still obsessed with monsters.  Only now instead of drawing a regular-old-run-of -the-mill monster I’m supposed to draw a monster playing a guitar.  Or a monster holding a cake.  I’m running out of ways to draw monsters and cake.  I’m still working on being able to draw a decent guitar.

Last night he dreamed about ducks as evidenced from the conversation we had when I went to bed.  He woke up in his bed and climbed over to snuggle with me and mumbled, “No, ducks.  Yellow duck is over here.”  It’s hearing things like that which make me happy we’re all still in the same bedroom; first by choice and now by circumstance.  I’ll miss that when things change.  No, really, I mean it.