He Told Me

This evening, Evan told me that he needed to use the bathroom! It was so exciting that I can't remember exactly what the word was he said. I think it was a cross between "potty" and "poopy"---"poppy"...but I'm not sure! I just know that whatever he said, I said back to him, "You need to go potty?" and his fist went on the top of his head (his version of signing "yes"), and he said "es." We went to the bathroom, and within seconds, HE WENT POOP!!!! Yea!

A couple of days ago, he didn't have anything on the bottom half, and he came to me with a diaper and said, "diaper." I brought him to the bathroom, and he went. I'm so happy that he's finding ways to communicate this need. (I really need to get on the ball with making the picture cards for this...it's not that difficult.)

For the first half of the summer, potty training was intense, and we had good results. For the second half, we eased up a bit because he was started to get a bit defiant about sitting on the potty. At first I thought that all that work was for nothing. BUT, easing up has had really good results. He sometimes wears underwear and sometimes a diaper, but now when I ask him, he seems more relaxed about it and isn't refusing like he had started to do before we eased up. Sometimes he will go in his diaper, but he's quick to take it off when he does.

It Wasn't Even His Birthday!

I was on the computer earlier today transferring pictures off of my camera. John and Matt had just gotten back from the store so they were somewhere in the house, Chelsey was in the kitchen making lunch, and Kyle was in this room where the computer is (front side of house) watching tv. Yep, that's not very interesting.

Well, while on the computer, I had my ears open for sounds of Evan, but I probably was a little too comfortable because I knew that the rest of the family was throughout the house. But the mother in me told me to get up and go check on Evan when I heard that sound that makes mothers nervous.....

the sound of silence.

I got up, and for whatever reason, I glanced to the right out the door as I passed by it....the glance turned into a frozen stare. There, up the street, walked Evan....alone. He was right by my parents house (100 yards, maybe)--he wouldn't have stopped there---my first reaction was to call my mom so she could get him--he was right there. I picked up the phone (I could still see him out a window), and before even dialing numbers, I was thinking, 'put down the phone and just go get him!' Just then, I saw that the neighbor across from my parents was in the street with him, trying to coral him. I dropped the phone and ran as fast as I have in years towards my baby. As I got close to him, he started laughing....not funny. I thanked the neighbor; she, her husband, and teenage son had just come out of their house to get groceries out of the car. Fortunately, we live on the end of a cul de sac that has 8 houses....not a busy street, but still.....

He was not too happy with me as I carried him back home.

How did this happen? We have a sunroom that is completely unclosed with sliding glass doors--7 of them. It provides a great view, and on a day like today (70 degrees), having some of those doors open is quite nice. Yeah, but the thing is, although Evan can't open the sliders, he can open the screens. Apparently, John had forgotten that fact....he had opened a couple and then went into the living room to watch tv. So, Evan got out, went across to the side of the yard so he could go around the privacy fence (it doesn't enclose the yard), made his was through the front yard, and up the street.
It's awful when I think about the "what ifs." One thing I'm certain of is that he wouldn't have turned around to come back home.

Okay, I almost hate putting this part in because really, this event is not funny. BUT, there's a detail I left out....

Evan was wearing absolutely....nothing.

I'm definitely out of the running for the mother of the year award.

Just What A Mother Does

Evan has been a little iffy on his naps lately. About a week ago, I put him in his room for his nap, and like he often does, he whined a bit and was at his door turning the nob. We have one of those safety things on his door due to the fact that his room is on the second floor, so he wasn't going to open it, although he gave a good effort.

After a few minutes, I went up to put him back in bed.

Only, I couldn't get the door open.

It was locked.

We've lived in this house for a year now, and we've never given thought to the locks on the inside doors. Now some inside doors have those locks that just push in. With these, you have to push in and turn to lock it. He can't get to the lock because of the safety plastic thing on his door knob, but I guess with him messing with it so much, it became locked?? I don't know, but I do know that my baby was quite upset because there I was on the other side of the door, and I wasn't opening it.

I tried hangers and paper clips--didn't work. I called John; he suggested kicking in the door...yeah, right. I went outside to get the heavy duty ladder--John had just been trimming the trees the day before--but even with Matt's help, I couldn't get the ladder propped up against the house--it came falling down on me (which I'm guessing is where the huge bruise on my arm came from; I didn't notice it until the next day). I have very little upper body strength.

By this time, I'm crying because he's crying and doesn't understand why I'm not getting him. I called John again, and he suggested going over to ask our neighbors for help. So I went over there, tears in my eyes, and explained the situation. He smiled, said his boys used to do that (they have grown children), and that his wife had something she used to open doors. He goes inside, tells her about it, and she comes out with a very small screwdriver. Basically, she couldn't get it open either.

So, it had been probably 45 minutes, and he's still crying. I call her husband, and he comes over with a few more tools---still, nothing.

I tell him that if he could get the ladder up against the house, I'll go through the window. I knew it wasn't locked, because I had just closed it before Evan's nap.

We go out, he gets the ladder up, and then I start the climb. Not a big fan of heights, but, this wasn't too bad. BUT, he had put the ladder to the left of the window, and when I got close to the top---as far as I thought necessary---he gently told me I would have to go two steps higher. That's when I really started to feel a bit uncertain about being up there. I slowly made my way up those two steps and cut the screen.

The next step was to remove one leg from the ladder and put it through the window.

Evan grabbed that leg. As I'm in the air with one leg halfway through the window, my neighbor tells me that I'm going to have to take my other leg off the ladder. Oh, yeah....Okay, at this point fear sets in a bit, but I knew I had to do it--I had to get to my baby! So I get my leg off the ladder, and there I am, straddling the window sill. The window isn't that big; I had to wiggle my way in...it felt like I was stranded there with one leg in and one leg out a long time, but I'm guessing it really happened in seconds.

I know, going up a ladder isn't that big of a deal! But it was!!! I used to climb tall trees when I was younger; I'm not sure when my fear of heights set in.

Yeah, John took the lock out of his doorknob that night.

The Dunes...A Much Needed, Quick Gettaway

AFV

Evan has recently discovered America's Funniest Home Videos. Like his brothers, he truly appreciates slap-stick comedy!

Walks and Playgrounds

There are so many differences in how the older kids were raised compared to Evan. One of those differences: the very long walks that we take. He likes to go... and keep going! Usually, he's in the stroller, but even when he's not, he can go far before I carry him.

Life is good if we stick to the usual route. If we don't, well, he's not a happy camper. There is a small exception to that rule. The kid has an amazing sense of direction...something I lack severely. If I make I turn that takes us farther away from home, it's ok. But if he senses the turn is somehow heading back in the direction of home, he protests. There was one day a when I turned left because I saw a dog in the middle of the street of our usual path. Left turn=good because it's a the direction away from home. That was weeks ago. But now, when we get to that street, his arm stretches out and points in that direction as he let's out some shouts that mean "We should go that way!" There are several left turns on that road, but he remembers it was "that one." So, to give him a thrill, we actually went "that way" on another occasion. It's a great workout!

The end of our walk brings us to the playground which is right by our house. His latest thing: HE HATES THE PLAYGROUND! He used to LIKE it; I have no idea what happened. At first, I thought it might be because he didn't want to stop the walk. So I've tried taking him in the van. Still protests. I've taken him when there are lots of kids, nobody there, morning, noon, and night. Doesn't matter. A few days ago, there was only one woman---probably the grandma---with a child of about 8 or 9. I thought this would be a good time to really push the issue.

Sometimes you see a child having a tantrum while leaving the playground. It's not very often you see it when a child is being brought to the playground. So I end up carrying him like a log because of his squirming, he's screaming, kicking off his shoes, and making the motion like he's going to bite me...although I think he knows that's not a good thing. I take him to the baby swings because he LIKES to swing. He lasted a few minutes...a few smiles coupled with the whining. After several minutes, I put him in the middle of a piece of equipment that has a couple of slides. He whined a little, took the shoes off again, but then we made a game out of his shoes being able to go down the slide. He thought that was kind of funny. He ended up going down the slides a few times, sending the shoes first each time. After about 15 minutes, he was done.

But of course, in the trips after that, when I ask him if he wants to go to the playground, he gives his usual, "No........no........no." (His "no," has a bit of an accent to it..very staccato. It's not the usual long o sound).

So yes, having my son play on the playground is a skill we have to work on.

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