A Quick David Update

It's been a crazy few months, but I just want to get down a brief snapshot of this little charmer.

David's one year and nine months old and a wonderful stage of life where he is still such a baby and yet such a little boy all at once.  He still wears nappies and nurses to sleep and rides around in a stroller and loves to cuddle and makes a huge mess when he eats anything and doesn't talk much on the one hand, but on the other, he throws (very mild) little boy fits and has fallen in love with Dora the Explorer and can play in the big kids room with his older brother and sister and understands a large amount of what we say to him and is developing this wonderful little personality.  Oh, when a smile breaks over this little guys face and bubbles over into a full-out baby giggle, you just have to laugh along.  He is so much more cooperative kid than the other two were at this age.  He'll point out a dirty nappy to you, and when you ask him if he's stinky, he'll nod and trot off to his room to be changed and settle down on the floor, carefully lowering his head so he doesn't bump it and then let you do your thing.  His vocabulary consists of about five words, including "no" (squeaked out like a little mouse), "yuck" (meaning both "yuck" and "I don't like this situation and so it should change," "ma-ma" (initially meaning "I want that" but now also meaning me), "water," and "ba" (which is multi-purpose, including baby and ball and balloon and other such things).  He may have a few more thrown in, like something that is supposed to mean Dora and a two syllable all-purpose deal that has meant anything from stroller to panda, but that's most of it. 

I love what he does with his minimalistic vocabulary, though, and how much he manages to communicate combining it with body language.  Tonight, as I was nursing him to sleep, he kept pointing at his legs and saying, "yuck."  Since he had just had his nappy changed, I didn't think he meant he needed a new diaper again.  Finally, I figured out this was a "I don't like this situation and so you should do something about it," occasioned by the fact that I was trying to get away with putting him to bed in a onsie without pants.  Apparently, he hasn't caught on to the idea of summer yet, so he was thrilled when I put the pj trousers with the trucks on him. 

My favorite example of his creative communication came the other day.  He said, "ma-ma," indicating he wanted something.  Then he walked over to my bedroom door and said, "water."  Usually he would walk to the kitchen for that, so I took it to mean he wanted to nurse on my bed.  Apparently, it means to drink, too, in a pinch.

Anyway, the baby will soon disappear completely so I'm savoring these last infant moments, but the sweet little boy emerging is a whole lot of fun and I'm looking forward to continuing to get to know him and see him interact with his brother and sister more and more.  For all the craziness having baby number three has introduced into our lives (especially since baby number one wasn't even 3 years old when he was born), I am so glad it worked out this way!

Well, here goes nothing ...

Vivienne's name means "life" or "lively," and it was appropriately chosen.  The past few nights she really has had a problem settling.  Also, of late, we have had a hard time keeping track of her pacies (pacifiers/dummies), her equivalent of Jonathan's beloved Baby Giraffe.  Well, tonight, after all the stores were closed, we really, really couldn't come up with one, so daddy (who does the "big" kids' bedtime routine) came in and asked if maybe tonight should be the night so we could get her off them before David figured out what they were and wanted one, too.  (His current bedtime favorites are Foxy Mommy and Foxy Baby, a wonderfully cuddly IKEA duo.)  Then daddy said, "Do you have a gift for her?  I know you always have something."  Ah, the man knows me well.  I have had a Belle Toddler Princess stashed away through two Christmases and a birthday.  Last year Vivienne wasn't old enough to really be interested in dolls, and her birthday coincided with her strong love of Jonathan's baby doll so really she needed her own.  (OK, I needed her to have her own so I could stop refereeing who got "Baby.")  Then, right before Christmas I found Elsa AND Anna at Costco for about the price one princess doll was elsewhere, so we hopped on the Frozen bandwagon.  (OK, we were already on it.)  So there was Belle, sitting in my closet, waiting for her dramatic moment.  Well, tonight was her night.

When we got into her room, both Jonathan and Vivienne wanted to show us all Vivienne's shelf where they had lined up Elsa, Anna, and her mini-Belle figurine among other things.  I took this as a sign that maybe we were on the right track with her gift.

Then we talked to Vivienne.  "OK, Vivienne.  You are a big girl, so no more pacies."

"I not a big gi-irl.  I just a small gi-irl."  (In her toddler/half-British/Chinese accent, "girl" definitely has a diphthong.)

"Yes, but if you give up pacies, you get a present."

"I want a present."

"So this means no more pacies."

"OK.  Where's my present?"

"Mommy will go get it."

At this point, I retired to go wrap her present because I thought that would make it more legitimately present-esque in her eyes, therefore adding weight to our future arguments when she asked for a paci at a later date.  (We'll see how that goes.)  I told daddy to go talk it up some more.  Through the door I heard them.

"So Vivienne.  You're getting a present.  You know what this means, right?  No more ..."

"Nappies."  (We've been trying to prepare her for that change as well.)

"Well, you can keep your nappies just a little bit longer.  No more ..."

"Pacies!"

When I brought the present out (in the shiniest, glitteriest, most legitimizing paper I could find) Jonathan was dancing around just as much as she was and it was all we could do to keep him from "helping" all the wrapping paper off.  Vivienne's face lit up and she squealed, "Belle.  I love it."

She looks happy enough with it, right?

Of course, the next few hours were all in and out .. of bed, each other's beds, mommy's room, you name it.  Even Jonathan was complaining that she wouldn't let him sleep, but finally he, at least, was down for the count.  Still, she would bounce up every so often.

The last time she came in, I threatened her back to bed.  "But you didn't stay a long time.  You didn't sing to me."

"OK, but just one song."

"Three songs."

"Vivienne, how many songs?"

"Four songs."

"OK," I compromised. "I'll sing 'Jesus Loves Me' and 'Twinkle, Twinkle,' so two songs."

"Don't sing scary songs."

Well, I thought we would be safe with my choices, so I launched into them, after, of course, getting her a sheet instead of a blanket (because the weather has definitely been getting warmer and muggier) and negotiating the status of her socks.  I launched into several verses of "Jesus Love Me."  Before the chorus on the third or fourth verse, she piped up, "Now 'Peppa Pig.'"  Well, despite its constant iPad play around here, I really couldn't think of anything beyond, "Peppa Pig, Peppa Pig" (is there more to it than that?) so I suggested "Rocket" (a.k.a. "Little Einsteins") and she said, "OK."  But when I started it she said, "No, 'Jesus Loves Me' first.'"  So back to the last two verses, then into a fairly acceptable version of "Rocket," (though she corrected me at least once and I am never sure which part comes when).  Of course, she didn't forget "Twinkle, Twinkle," so we went with that, followed by my second verse (which I made up when she was a baby David's age learning to sleep in a crib by herself -- my survival skills kicking in so I wouldn't die of boredom):

"Scurry, scurry, little mouse,
How I hope that you're in my house,
Up above my little bed.
Won't you come and dance on my head.
Scurry, scurry, little mouse,
How I hope that you're in my house."  (Complete with the appropriate scurrying tickles and giggles, of course.)

And that, at least, seemed to convince her that it really, really, REALLY was bedtime -- at least, I haven't had any more little visits during the time it's taken me to write this down and finish cutting out her next dress.

So, here goes nothing ...

Pretty sure, though, we're going to encounter a few screaming bouts and a bit of co-sleeping when she wakes up in the middle of the night looking for her paci, but we have convinced her (for tonight at least) to go to bed without it, so I am counting it as, well, not yet a win, but at least a point.

David at 16 months

Well, it does seem that Jonathan, as the first born, does get all the press.  I am pretty sure I haven't even written an introduction post about David yet, and here he is having already been around for 16 months.  So here's a long-overdue snapshot of another little boy we have around here.

I call David my Joy Boy.  It's like he knew he was baby number three and has this totally laid back, cooperative little personality to go along with it.  Where Jonathan would treat "no" like the biggest joke, David breaks down and cries if you speak harshly to him.  Where Jonathan would treat getting dressed as a power struggle, David holds out his arms and legs to help you get the clothes on him.

He also figured out kissing the earliest of my kiddos, and he will sometimes stop what he is doing just to give you a kiss.  Oh, the sweetness.

His favorite things in the world are water cups and stickers.

His hair no longer grows in a natural mohawk.

He loves eating -- especially bananas and dried cranberries.

He doesn't talk yet, but he understands a lot.

He loves shutting doors.

Nodding his head both means yes and thank you.

Sometimes he won't want to do what you ask him to do but he still does it even while he cries about it.

He loves sitting in empty boxes.

Have I mentioned his obsessed with stickers?  Because that really should make the list a few times, given his level of commitment to them.

We have finally transitioned him into sleeping in his own bed, although I nurse him in the rocking chair before putting him down.  He cries when I do, but he falls asleep so much faster than his sister ever did.

I may get around to posting a few more points, and I really should add a few pictures, but for now, I just want to say, man, I love this kid.

A snapshot of a boy

Yesterday was Jonathan's birthday.  If I were one for keeping up with this blog, I'm sure I would write all about it, but realistically we all know that's never going to happen.   I would, however, like to give a little snapshot of who this wonderful little man is right now, if only for my own record.  Read as many as you like -- or just scroll through for the pictures!

We went with the whale cake -- again.  The icing got tested a bit before I pulled out the camera, though.

Recently he has begun saying, "It's a fun day, right mommy?" from time to time.  (His birthday today definitely counted as a fun day in his opinion.)

Jonathan and mommy on the way home from our birthday lunch

 at the Dream Mall (behind us).

He used to be pretty unwilling to speak Chinese, despite having a whole lot of exposure from birth, but recently I've heard him using it more and more.  He will inform you, "Sometimes I speak English and sometimes I speak Chinese and sometimes I speak French."  I have no idea where the idea he can speak French comes from, because he most definitely can't, but thanks to Dora he can count to ten in Spanish in addition to English and Chinese.

He has just recently become willing to look at baby pictures and hear that he was once smaller than he is now.

He finally decided it was time to take us up on the potty-training offer -- for the day time, at least.

He loves his "Stomping shoes" that grandma brought from America last year, and will tell you, "My rocket shoes are too small so now I wear my stomping shoes."

His favorite foods at home are eggs, pasta, shrimp, corn (on the cob) and broccoli -- preferable all at once and definitely cold.

A birthday dinner of his favorite things.  All cold, of course.

He is fine with Vivienne dressing up.  He'll even call her "Princess Anna" when she's wearing her Princess Anna dress.  However, under no circumstances does he have any desire to dress up as anything but himself personally.  (He thinks the idea of "pirate pants," as in part of a pirate costume, to be particularly laughable.)

Costumes may not be his thing, but sunglasses are great.

He loves cement trucks.

He loves saying "please," "thank you," "I'm sorry," and "it's all right," and will remind others to say so as well.  (An oft-heard conversation around here: J: Vivienne, say I'm sorry.  V: I'm sorry.  J: It's all right.)

He loves watching daddy play computer games, but he's a little less-than-supportive when Stephen dies (as in, he laughs maniacally at Stephen's misfortune and thinks it's great fun).

Sometimes he likes to threaten punishments on his sister of "no happy birthday and no Merry Christmas" if she doesn't do as she is told.

Sticks are the best outdoor toys ever!

This is how Jonathan loves posing for photos these days.

Every time he sees a plane he thinks it's grandma and grandpa and Uncle Jon flying home.

He has always been a kid that gets into everything.  One sign of his growing up, though, is now he tells me, "Mommy, put it where I can't get it," when I yell at him for getting into something he shouldn't.  (Of course, there are very, very few places he can't get to.)

He still loves sweeping up messes.

He's a little monkey who climbs absolutely everything.

He has to be in the middle of every activity.  "I do it" is one of his favorite phrases.

He LOVES roughhousing with daddy.

He was very excited to get his "tadpole blanket" for his birthday today.  (It's an Ikea duvet cover we chose a while back on-line that they didn't have in the store when we looked for it.   Once I knew I could give it to him, I mentioned it a few times to keep up his interest.  Recently, I think he was getting worried he couldn't get it, so when he opened it today he hugged it for about two minutes straight with the biggest grin across his face.)

When he turned three a year ago he was barely speaking in two or three word sentences.  Now, he is the master of talking.

He really likes his Spiderman sunglasses and his Diego hat.

Jonathan in the hat mommy made for him, not his Diego hat.  He insisted on wearing right away.

He's a huge fan on Play-Doh.

He loves church, especially Uncle Fawkes, Uncle Michael, Aunt Katie, and Teacher Ariel.

He has gotten over his fear of the beach, though he's not sure he wants to make actual contact with the water yet.  Sand no longer petrifies him, though.  In fact, he's a big fan.

 
The pink water bottle is his.  So is the monkey cup.

He loves belts, but insists on doing them himself.

Baby Giraffe is still his best friend and companion.  And he still gets lost on a regular basis.

Contraband is most often his in the pirate ship, a pop-up tent clubhouse in his room that was his birthday present last year.

Sometimes he likes to say, "Ay-ay, Captain," instead of "OK, mommy."

He is Vivienne's best friend and a great helper with David -- when he's not in too crazy a mood at least.

Back when they were one, two, three -- years old, that is.

He has finally figured out that he is supposed to say "two" and not just grunt for English's second integer.  (Or is two the third integer since you start with zero?)


He doesn't like scarey things, so no shirts with dinosaurs or lions or superheros for us at the moment. 

However, watching videos of dinosaurs with mommy or daddy on the computer can be fun.

He's a fan of "Tommy Train" (Thomas the Tank Engine), though he isn't familiar with the show.  He particularly loves when he gets to put on his "Tommy Train" helmet and go on an adventure with mommy.  He is particularly impressed with Costco.

He loves Diego, Dora the Explorer's cousin.

Technically, the only legal name he has at the moment is his Chinese one, which he doesn't actually recognize since it's only ever used to call us in the waiting room at the doctor's office.

Although he was more into it a few months ago, he loves the iPad app "My Singing Monsters," which I maintain for him and he visits from time to time.

He loves playing in the water in the shower for as long as you'll let him.

Every once in a while, I'll catch his dad's British accent coming through, like the way he says the word "laugh."  With things like the "r" sound, I'm not sure if he's being British or just toddler, which is him main accent.  

He gets a Mister Men book read to him every night by daddy.  He is still a fan of Curious George, the old favorite.  Sometimes he likes to pretend to be Mister Topsy Turvey and put two socks on the same foot or a shirt on backwards or upside down.  ("Ooops!  Silly." Followed by really cute giggles.)

Yes, I know four is too old for a pacifier, and I am sure if he didn't have a little brother we would have been on that by now.

Last doctor's visit, he actually cooperated fully.  My baby's growing up!

The only Bible verse song he lets us play in the app we bought is the first one, so it's the only Bible verse he knows.  "I John 4:10 - God loved us and sent his Son."  His favorite Bible story is Jonah (I think because of the lift-the-flaps whale) and he tells us "Sometimes Jesus loves me and sometimes Jesus don't love me."  When he's "XiangFan XianSheng" (my name for him which means "Mr. Opposite" in Chinese) he'll say, "No, Jesus don't love me."  We're working on his theology, but a few months ago he didn't really like talking about God or Jesus at all since they were too abstract for him to handle (like the aforementioned baby pictures) so we're getting somewhere.

He thinks grandma and grandpa (my parents, I'm guessing) own everything in the store.  He's never been to their house, so I'm not sure where he's getting that idea from.

In good, little boy fashion, ANYTHING and EVERYTHING can be a weapon.  (His sister is not always a fan of this.  Good thing he has a little brother growing up fast who can join him in his boy games soon!)

If he says the wrong thing he'll say, "Oops!  Sorry!  I said the wrong magic word."  He's got his sister doing this, too.

"When the sun go down, we say 'ah-men' but when we're awake we say "ay-men."  (Mommy's American and Daddy's British.  Mommy prays on the way to school; daddy does bedtime prayers.)

He is bothered by mess and chaos.  However, he is usually the cause of it in the first place.

Yeah, this is definitely a trio that knows how to create chaos.

He is a highly opinionated, sweet, wild, crazy, loveable, absolutely adorable, happy, sensitive, fun-loving, talented, happy, moody, and all-together wonderful little boy, and I am ridiculously blessed to be his mother -- even if he does complicate the family's international paperwork at times. 

Home is where the fun is.

The big news around here is that we have moved Jonathan and Vivienne into an actual kids' room of their own.  (Basically, we will have the house set up to where it's actually livable about three weeks before we have to pack it in a shipping crate and send it off to America.)  I have a closet, an alcove, a shelf, and the top of a bookcase to clear out/off, but other than that, Stephen's entire computer room has been gutted and totally transformed into a kid-friendly space.  (I'll attempt to post pictures here or on Facebook once those holdouts have surrendered.)  Our house still has a long way to go, but it definitely improves the living conditions in the rest of the house now that there are designated, categorized toy bins, and the kids really enjoy playing there -- so much so that bedtime has been pushed back way too late, but we're working on that.  As an added bonus, the baby loves their room and will occasionally even let mommy leave him in there with them, until he gets run over, knocked down, hugged too lightly, or launches himself off the (very low) little Japanese table or kid-sized chairs.  One day in the not-too-distant future, he'll be able to hold his own, and Jonathan will finally get his shooting companion.

Yup.  Jonathan is all little boy and loves watching his father shoot the aliens and bad people in his video game.  I think the other boys at school also have influenced him, and so he goes around killing us all.  This doesn't disturb me as much as it might, having grown up with a brother very close in age who was into all things army for most of his childhood, but I still try to keep him from killing me too many times a day.  The house rule (which is not always successfully enforced) is no killing mommy, but you can shoot daddy if you must.  His favorite "gun" to use is his toy train track, but really anything will do.

One benefit of their new room is that I have some hope of keeping it in order, so the other night I was in there picking up (and keeping in sight of the baby, as he likes it) and found myself in the middle of their play.  Vivienne kept throwing fits -- "Gege's" -- Older brother -- "killing me.  I no like it!"  So, being the peacemaker, I decided to try to redirect the fire to the aliens behind Vivienne.  That way, he could still shoot in her general direction but he could save her instead.  This has had some limited success the past few days, and my ever-grateful son has been saved by his sister on occasion, too.  "Oh dank you, dank you Vivienne for killing de awiens."  We also turned our fire to the posters on the wall.  Sometimes Mickey gets replaced by an alien we have to kill so the good Mickey can come back, and the little boy at the picnic hugging his dog is so happy because we killed the bad alien dog so his good dog can come back.  (Yeah, kids bring out the imagination in me.)  Well, Vivienne naturally gravitates to less raucous things, like pretending the art sponge is a flute and playing the songs she learned on Little Einsteins (or "Rocket" as she calls the show).  Jonathan is way more interested in killing and dying (which he has no concept of, of course -- really reminds me of a scene in the book The Giver that I was doing with my tutoring student a while back).  He wanted some acknowledgement of his collapsing in death, so I decided to tell Vivienne that she had a magic medicine to heal him. (Of course, I stole this from Narnia -- she'd make a great Lucy.  Maybe killing aliens can teach about resurrection and set the stage for the gospel when they're ready.  Why not.)  They loved this, and soon it turned into a magic flute song to make him better, thus incorporating her game into his.

Today, they were both running around the living room with railroad track guns, shooting the aliens and bad "peoples."  Although they saved each other on multiple occasions (thanks to some redirecting from mommy), at one point, Jonathan dramatically died, so I said to Vivienne, "Quick.  Go get your magic flute."  She ran into her room, presumably to get the paint sponge, but came back from her room with a block instead, on which she played her magic song and healed her brother.

After thanking her, he got up and saw what she was holding.  "Hey.  This not a flute.  It's a BLOCK," says the boy who has been shooting aliens -- and everyone else in the house -- with dusters, dustpans, sniper towers made from blocks, train tracks, even his arms in a pinch.  But he thought it absolutely hilarious that his sister would try to pass off a block as a magic flute.  "That so funny" was his assessment of the situation.

But really, I love seeing the brother/sister dynamic being worked out.   This reminds me of playing a dress-up game based on A Little Princess with my best friend Zoe when we were little while her brother Noah and my brother Jonathan were running all around us in their wonderful basement playing pirates who would occasionally step in and beat up Miss Minchin for us.  I love how kids came make things work.

Thankful ... Clark Style

I've enjoyed reading people's "Thankful" posts this month of November, but I am really not organized enough to come up with a daily offering of my own.  However, let me share a few things that I am thankful for tonight.  (Actually, it was written a few nights ago.  It just took a while to get all the pictures up.)

1) I am thankful for this funny little boy …

Fun with his 3rd birthday Nemo balloons.

... whose curiosity leads him to do the most interesting things.  Like exploring the shoe closet.  Again.  And for his ingenuity and athleticism that let him use the double stroller as a ladder.  And, of course, for the sheer joi de vivre he brings to all he does.  Although I wasn't there to observe this, I can just picture how delighted he must have been as he discovered that one bottle of black shoe polish pushed way to the side of a high shelf that missed daddy's last visual sweep of the shoe closet (when we tried to remove anything he might get into.)  And I am thankful for his helpful little nature, as evidenced by the obvious cleanup efforts in the living room and the new "old" rags he made for me out of some nice hand towels.

I was too busy cleaning to pull out the camera tonight, but the 

living room looked a bit like it did the other day when we

 were finger/balloon/spoon paining -- only blacker and not as

 washable, with less clean skin visible on the kiddos, and

 clothes to get it on, and the mess not so confined to the table, 
though the (uncovered) table did get its fair share.

2) I am thankful for this little girl who just turned two ...

... and that this morning, I didn't decide to dress her in the new dress her nanny gave her for her birthday last week.

I'm glad this dress was a long way from this living room tonight.

I am thankful for the wonderful relationship she has with her brother …

My Taiwan twins sharing a "best photo spot" in the subway.

... so that she shares in his discoveries and joys.  And in his shoe polish, apparently.

Oh, how I love my baby girl.

3) I am thankful for this man ...

... who found it amusing to clean the living room because it was just that dirty.  I am thankful for all the interesting times the kids have when daddy's left in charge.  (Tonight, I am even thankful that he often doesn't return pants/trousers to little bodies after diaper/nappy changes since skin is easier to clean shoe polish off than cloth.)  And I am thankful for all the hours of entertainment his unobservant nature affords me.

"I think you need to come out now.  He found the shoe polish."
"Did it get on anything?"
"Mostly just the kids."
A few minutes later:
"I am guessing that you haven't been to the living room yet."

I didn't get photos this time around, but let's just
say it reminded both Stephen and me of this
 event a while back.

He may not always notice what they're getting up to, but I'm
thankful for how much this man loves his kids.

4) And I am thankful for this little one ...

3-month-old David's showing off his new skill, smiling, and working
 on his next accomplishment: learning to chew toys.

... in his new, fuzzy winter pj's that make cuddling him all sweeter.  I'm thankful for his budding relationship with his brother and sister.

Mostly, I am grateful he wasn't with them tonight but was in the bedroom nursing and napping with mommy when all the excitement went down!  (Thereby keeping those cute and cuddly new jammies cute and cuddly.)  I'm thankful for how much he loves warm baths ….

… but that, unlike the big kids,  tonight he didn't need one.  I'm thankful for how much he is growing and developing, now being at that perfect age where he can smile and interact and play a bit …

… but can't move around enough to get into too much trouble.  I'm also thankful that he was sleeping peacefully in the bedroom during tonight's clean-up efforts!

The Day I Microwaved Ice Cream

In my freezer, I currently have a lime green Ikea kids bowl containing a very high quality ice cream sandwich that has been microwaved -- by me, none the less, and then refrozen.  The short version: Jonathan fell asleep at a strange time for a nap, slept way too long and not enough, and was not a friend of the laws of physics.  The longer version: in this house, as in most, mommy is the great comforter, but even I am not enough for Jonathan when he wakes up in a funk, and last night's was a doozy.  At times such as that, he just cries and cries and cries until he reconciles himself to being awake, and no amount of mommy-hugging helps.  Sometimes, though, I can offer him the right thing to break through a bit and help jump-start rational thought, always a good thing in a toddler.

So yesterday, it went something like this, "Do you want a cookie?"

(Through the wails,) "No cookie."

"Do you want water?"

"No water." (Still sobbing)

"Juice?"

"No juice."

So since that wasn't getting me anywhere, I decided to try a different tactic.  "Do you want an elephant?"

"No e'fant."

"An alligator?"

"No a'gator."

"Ice cream?"

"No ... yes i'cream."

Ah, the light at the end of the tunnel, or so I though.  I went to the freezer and pulled out two nice Costco organic ice cream sandwiches -- one for me and one for him.  I had debated splitting one with him, but past experience has taught me that he really likes "big" pieces, so I decided to forego that conversation and got us one each.  I led him to his little kid-sized table and chair, sat him down, and opened his sandwich for him.  He set it on the table without touching it.  I started eating mine and encouraged him to do the same.  He seemed content having it, but I knew it was going to melt all over everything.  So, I got him a bowl and tried to put it in it.  He obviously was still not over his funk and insisted, "No bowl, no bowl, table, TABLE," in a way that suggested he wasn't going to take "no" for an answer.  I wasn't sure if I had gotten it right, because, of course, ice cream comes in various sizes and shaped and locations, so maybe he thought I was going to give him one of those juice popsicles, or a bowl of scooped mango ice cream or even take him to McDonald's.  I figured I must have gotten it wrong, so I picked up the untouched, melting sandwich while it was still somewhat salvageable to put it in a Ziplock and stick it back in the freezer.  Apparently, this was NOT what Jonathan had in mind.  He apparently liked his sandwich sitting melting on the table, as evidenced by him racing to the kitchen to stop me from putting it away, yelling "i'cream -- i'cream."  So I tried to explain to him that it was going to melt, but I found myself at a bit of a loss because he just doesn't have all the requisite vocabulary for that conversation.

But evidently, he understood enough of it, because when I told him that I was just going to put it in the freezer to let it get cold again, he said, "No, hot.  Hot," getting all weepy again.  I tried explaining to him that you just can't have hot ice cream, but the word "impossible" is both literally and figuratively not in his vocabulary.

Then, I made the mistake of saying, "So, you want me to microwave the ice cream and make it hot?"  This was exactly what he wanted me to do.  I thought about it, and figured he was in a mood not to be messed with.  Besides, it dawned on me that just because my adult brain has been wired to think microwaving ice cream is daft, doesn't mean that microwaved ice cream might not taste yummy.  So, out of the wrapper and into a lime green kids Ikea bowl this poor ice cream sandwich went, already looking rather soupy.

I micowaved it 20 seconds or so and pulled it out and presented it to his royal grumpjesty.  "There," I said triumphantly.  "Hot ice cream."

Oh no.  The lip.  The whine.  What was it this time?  "No boowwwllll."


Epilogue: The boy went on to wake up sufficiently just about the time we would have loved to put him to bed, bouncing off the wall happily for hours having forgotten all about the ice cream fiasco.  The mom went on to sooth other babies that night, to varying degrees of success.  And the ice cream in the lime green bowl still sits in the freezer until I can figure out what to do with it or decide to throw it away in a week or so.  Poor ice cream.