And just for fun, a birthday retrospective.

Simon thinks that this hot chocolate mix is lick-the-container good.

Just one of the ways we say “I love you” around here.

We learned today that beans are a very satisfying alternative to water for playing and general mess making. Although I don’t love sweeping, I do prefer it to mopping up with towels and changing the toddler’s clothes. (Many thanks to RT for the idea!)

This picture isn’t the best quality; I had to do lots of adjustments because I had my camera on the wrong, wrong, wrong settings. But it should give you an idea of just how desperate I was this morning to keep the little one happy. We blessedly did get out of the house this afternoon for a glorious trip to Super Target with Rebecca and Liv. Oh sweet, sweet freedom from the confines of the house. (I don’t know that I’ve ever had cabin fever as bad as I did this week.) You’d think I would have brought my camera for the ride, but really I was just too giddy at being OUT OUT OUT of the house.

Simon is fascinated by the snow. Imagine how much his excitement increased when Rebecca and Liv talked us into going outside for some (much needed!) fresh air (I’m glad Rebecca grabbed her camera; I couldn’t figure out a way to handle mine plus the toddler). He’s been talking all day long about his “buh boo” and/or “boo boose” (both refer to “blue boots") and the “no” (snow).

Today we made a big batch of Grandma Johnson’s Gingersnaps. Simon helped (more or less).

For the past couple of days Simon and I have been more or less stuck in the house (a combination of being a one-car family, living in cold and rainy Lincoln, and me being too germ-phobic to venture out to any indoor playland or the Children’s Museum). So after (yesterday) pulling out all the toys (this was partly my fault; I got it in my head that I wanted to organize them) and (today) reading the tractor book for the umpteenth time, we built forts.

I have to admit that I’m rather a novice at building forts, so these were pretty minimal, but Simon didn’t seem to mind.

I hadn’t realized that forts have Rules. Rules that are not to be broken on penalty of horrible, high-pitched “eh, eh, eh” screaming until the violation has been reversed. As far as I could tell, Simon’s Rules are as follows:

1. Mama is to be in (or very near) the fort at all times. (I have no doubt this will also be the first Rule to go once he gets a bit older, so I’m enjoying it while I’m still welcome.)
2. There are to be NO pillows in the fort.
3. There is to be NO laying down (with or without pillows) in the fort.

Jason came home for lunch today and deliberately and blatantly broke Rules 2 and 3. It took Simon a while to asses the situation, but eventually he decided that he, not Daddy, was king of the fort and enforced the Rules.

This kid cracks me up.

Simon’s hair is the topic of much conversation with friends, family, and strangers alike. Although some subtly (and not so subtly) hint that he needs a haircut, most say (and I agree) it’s awesome—you gotta love those beautiful, crazy, precious curls.

Still, it was getting really, really long and, sadly, a little Donald Trump in the front. When it was wet, he also had quite the rattail, but, thankfully, his curls were tight enough to keep the back from being too Billy Ray Cyrus when it was dry. I’ve been thinking about giving him a trim for a while, but it took some time to work up the courage. The challenge was to keep the curls (above all, keep. the. curls.) while not creating a mullet.

Harder than it looks, folks. The only experience I have had with cutting hair is from when I was in high school—my sister wanted me to cut her long hair straight across the middle of her back. I literally took one snip before she flipped it up to inspect it and said, “No, we’re done.” Jason knows his way around a pair of clippers, but a scissors is another matter entirely. Simon was rightfully horrified by Jason’s first attempt at the front:

So we made it a joint effort.

Although at one point it was looking like a mullet might be inevitable, in the end I think the haircut turned out okay.

Yeah, there are a few stray flippies and random long hairs. And, yeah, it looks like it was cut by a couple of parents who had no idea whatsoever what they were doing. But I think I’m okay with that. What I’m having a harder time with is the fact that his new haircut makes him look like such a big kid.

Simon didn’t start smiling until he was about twelve weeks old, and there were days in that long wait that I had myself convinced that my baby didn’t even like me (I read plenty of baby books in those days, enough to know that most babes start smiling at about six weeks, so with his six weeks of prematurity, that was right on time. But, of course, that did nothing for my irrational thoughts). These days, I have no lack of affection from my sweet boy.

But some days it’s just too much, and I think my heart is going to burst for the love of this child (we call this “shards"). Mornings are usually a good time to let Simon tool around while I try to get something done. This morning I had to write a couple of work-related e-mails (not that I don’t also surf blogs and stuff, it’s just that this time I really was working). Simon occupied himself by opening the cupboard doors and climbing on the dining room chairs and the piano bench. He also periodically brought me things, to each of which I said a distracted “Thanks, Bub” or “Uh-huh, thanks, Simon.” When I finally looked up to give him my full attention fifteen minutes later (because of his insistent signing of “More, more, more, please"), I found myself surrounded by two books (both illustrated by Richard Scarry, for what it’s worth), two DVDs, a wooden block, my cell phone, a Bed, Bath & Beyond coupon, a musical magnetic barn, Jason’s X-Box controller, a notebook, and a pen and its cap (separated). (And since I’ve been writing this blog entry, we’ve added another DVD, a little plastic chicken, a refrigerator magnet, two half-eaten crackers, and a ladle.) I was at first merely amused—well, and a little discouraged by the mess. But then I realized that this is one of the only concrete ways that a toddler can show his love—sharing his treasures, or at least those things that catch his interest. I do love being loved by this kid.

So now I’m off to find something that communicates love to him . . . these days that probably means time outside.