Onward Minion!
So Isaac has started doing this thing where he walks up to you, leans up against your legs, and raises his arms, basically demanding to be picked up. This seems cute at first until you realize that it's because he wants something that he can't get to from his 2' 3" or so vantage, and you are a means to an end.

So once he is in your arms, he then points in the direction he wants you to go...usually towards the thing he wants....and looks at you expectantly. Noelle calls this his "Onward, Minion!" pose. I.e. "Your purpose is to serve...move quickly in the indicated direction."

Once there he gestures at the item he wants, which is usually a) a cookie, b) some other form of baking, or c) something else he can't have, like my cell phone (what is it with that kid and cell phones? Sheesh). So then after demanding to be picked up and toted across the room, and then thwarted in his efforts to aquire said contraband, he rewards you for your parental dilligence by howling.

He's gotten pretty good at it...screwing up his face and crying like we are denying him even the smallest morsel of food after days of starvation. The reality is that he actually has quite the little pot belly, so we know he's not starving, he's just very very determined to have sweets minutes before he's supposed to be sitting down to dinner. Don't even talk to me about what happens when he doesn't get the cell phone.

We, however, have gotten equally good at distracting him. He starts howling, and within minutes, the Fisher Price Little People are playing on their little musical playground, or caring for horses in their little barn, or...not sure about this one...washing animals in the pet store. Anyway. That's usually enough to get him to stop fixating on "forbidden objects", but I'm wondering how long it will be before he gets wise.

Also, Isaac has turned into quite the little Parrot. Especially silly sounding words he isn't used to. I had some nonsense word I was using in the bath tonight (I think it was WOOSH-Bonk!), and he copied it back exactly. This wouldn't be so bad if we weren't in the process of packing for a move.

For me, and I think this is true for most men, packing and moving is kind of like assembling Ikea furniture. I.e. a chance to curse openly and with impunity. Not so with Monsieur Parrot around.

In the course of packing a box two weekends ago, I tangled up a piece of packing tape quite nicely, and muttered one of my choice "bon mots", and totally forgot that my son was standing between me and the box.

Forgot, that was, until he started going "Tshht, tshht, tshht."

It could have been alot worse, and in retrospect I got off easy, but I do know now to be a little more cautious.

We'll see if I can get through the next month of packing and moving without significantly expanding a) his vocabulary, and b) child welfare's caseload.

Now what am I going to do now that I don't have my favority Speech Pathologist to tell these stories to? Hope you guys are doing well down there.