Cheese Alert

I know it's kind of cheesy, but the whole time we were waiting/trying to have kids, and especially when we were matched with Sam and waiting for him to come home, I kept imagining how great it would be to see my son with my dog, Frankie. (Yes, I have two dogs, but in my mind, Frankie was destined to be a boy's best friend.)

I'll admit that perhaps I've been a bit more than suggestive of the notion that Sam and Franklin are *supposed* to be pals. Sam's big boy room is decorated in Pottery Barn Kids "My Best Friend" pattern which is, as you might imagine, dog-themed. There's an awesome watercolor of Frankie hanging on the wall. I constantly try to get pictures of the two of them together.

Alas, Sam and Frankie don't have much more than an occasional passing interest in one another. Sam's not terribly fascinated by any creature that can't talk back to him or rewind Bob the Builder at the appropriate moment. Franklin, whose main pasttime is sleeping, is none too comfortable in range of a two-year-old who's wont to tug on his tail and then wail when the dog darts off. Their most common shared experience is that of Sam shrieking for Frankie to "get away, doggie. That's MY food," when the pup gets too close to a snack Sam's enjoying. (For the record, this has happened once too often, actually. The dogs have been banned from the house when Sam's eating anything. Anyone who knows Rob and I from our pre-child days would probably gasp at the notion that we'll even consider canine banishment.)

The story has a new chapter today, and I'm a very proud mommy for it.

Frankie has become a teeny bit braver about nuzzling me when Sam's nearby lately. He's either decided Sam is predictable enough to take the risk or is just so attention starved that he no longer cares what he has to do to have his ears scratched. With Sam on my lap, Frankie came up for a pet today. Sam asked, giggling, what Franklin was doing when he lifted a paw to my knee to get my attention. When I replied that Frankie was "saying he loves us," Sam told me that he loved Frankie, too.

Then... He got down, went and got his blankie, petted Frankie's back ever-so-gently until the dog laid down (understanding that the situation wasn't dangerous) and then wrapped Frankie up. He told me that he was tucking Frankie in for a nap and then proceeded to lay his own head down on Frankie and told me to "Shhh. Frankie's sleeping now."

Sam loves Frankie. Frankie loves Sam. Maybe my not-so-subtle efforts to force the friendship weren't in vain?

He'll hate me someday

Does every parent find taking pictures of their children doing weird things fun? Why is it that I feel most compelled to grab the camera when Sam's doing something that he'll surely find embarrassing once he's a teenager?

Case in point: Sam's overly eager participation in the enjoyment of his cousin Linsey's birthday gift. We gave her a set of six totally frilly, sparkly and dainty Disney Princess dress-up slippers. The credit goes to Uncle Robby who spied them quite a while ago and knew she'd love them. Not to take credit away from him for being perceptive, but one of the more noticeable things about our sweet niece is that she loves to wear very dressy shoes. She was at our house not long ago in a regular play clothes outfit, completed with a pair of glittery pink Mary Janes that had been part of her Halloween princess costume.

Anyway, you get the point. Linsey is a completely normal five-year-old who takes immense joy in flaunting her girliness. (One of the qualities that really makes me want a girl some day... I somehow doubt Sam will find tea parties with Mommy very fun, though trust me -- I will try.)

Sam, as much as he may appear to be all boy (anyone who has spent more than five minutes with him knows his love of trains, tractors, airplanes, helicopters, trucks, cars, construction equipment, etc...) is actually a bit of a closet diva. Similar to those moments when he asks if he can "please wear lipstick, too, Mommy," he could not wait to get his hands on a pair of Linsey's cute girl shoes.

Once he slid his little feet into a purple pair of Jasmine heels, he looked around, grabbed her aqua satin purse and happily trotted off to enjoy the satisfying click-clack of his new footwear on the hardwood floor.

I enjoyed the moment, yes... But I also nearly knocked Linsey out myself trying to get to the camera. I immediately mentally filed the moment (along with the image of him wearing a soapsuds mohawk in the bathtub) in the I-can't-wait-to-show-this-to-your-prom-date-please-don't-hate-me-for-laughing category.

One Little Word

Along the lines of the "you're my best friend" cuteness, I had to "write" this down. As is usually the case, I'm sure the phase won't last long.

So, the quick story:

I got home very late last night from Orlando. Sam didn't know I was home when he woke up (VERY EARLY!) this morning. I walked into his room, causing squeals of delight. It was loud and ear-piercing, but I couldn't have been happier to hear it after having been gone since Monday morning.

I went to sit down in the chair in his room, and he came running over to me. He asked me to hold him and snuggled down, patting my face.

Then he looked up at me and declared, "Mommy, we're a family."

He's said it a few other times, but I still well up each time. Saying it to me today, after we'd been separated for a few days, made it seem like he was really thinking about why he was so glad to see me. I'm pretty sure there's not such a complex thought pattern involved, but it's the sweetest thing to hear nonetheless.

Our new toy

I'm sure it's my cold and/or the death rattle in my chest that's preventing any sort of significant, intelligent thought between my ears, but seriously... I'm about to go to bed after finally getting packed for my next business trip and the only thing I can think is that I can't believe our new camera has been sitting in the house for four days and we have only taken about five pictures on it.

A little context: we fretted over spending gift money on a camera when the one we have works just fine, we just don't like it very much. We finally did it on Thanksgiving morning, then stalked the FedEx Tracker widget on our desktop as if the man in orange and blue would be arriving with the winning PowerBall ticket or something. We knew the camera would make it to our doorstep on Thursday afternoon. I flew down the steps when the Budget truck arrived (no joke, FedEx has so many packages to deliver that they've run out of trucks, or so the nice temp driver told me when he handed over the long-awaited box) and then just placed the large cardboard box on the dining room table.

Seeing as it was actually Rob's birthday money that paid for the camera, he insisted I wait for him to even LOOK at the camera. Anyone who understands the depth of my new digisrap addiction knows that the presence of a new camera has taken on greater significance than it might have a few weeks ago...

So, I waited. I actually ran downstairs between conference calls once he was home just to watch the packing tape come off of the box. How sad is that? Rob then annoyingly read off each item on the user's guide as he pulled accessories out of the box "just to be sure it's all there." Painstaking, I tell you.

I've seen it. It's very pretty. It feels nice in my hand. I haven't figured out the auto flash yet. I've commented on about 14 things we SHOULD/COULD take cool pictures of, but alas, the fog of snockiness kept me horizontal more than vertical this weekend, so no new photos.

Speaking of vertical, off to bed now that this little diatribe is off my chest. I have to be up at 4 to catch my flight.

Let's hope...

...that Santa Claus is smarter than the "crib fairy."

Sam moved to his big boy bed a few weeks ago... The transition wasn't too difficult for any of us, but as soon as he walked into his room the first night that the crib was gone, he kept asking, "Where my crib go? Who took it?"

Being the quick thinkers we are, we replied that the crib fairy came and took his crib. We made a big deal about how he was officially a big boy now.

He seemed proud and satisfied with our answer...until we left for school this morning.

As it turns out, that silly crib fairy didn't go far with the crib. We'd "heard" that it broke during disassembly. Apparently she has no use for broken cribs and only took it as far as our curb.

As we left the house today, Sam just stopped and stared at the pile of trash. "What's that?" (he asked knowingly.)

"That's just the trash. QUICK!! Let's see if we can find a really big trash truck that makes cool loud noises!!" I replied, while mentally noting to have a word with the crib fairy after work today.