I started a new blog for the New Year. A few of my friends are doing a Project 365 Challenge - where you take at least one photo everyday for a year - and I decided to join them. So, here's my shameless plug:
Amanda's Project 365
Yes, I will continue to post here on Life with Leah. :) Still, since many of my photos will, I'm sure, feature Leah, I figured some of you may want to check out the other blog as well. I'll be updating that one more frequently.
Thanks and enjoy!
Monday, January 9, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Chocolate: noun, adjective, verb
Sunday afternoon.
Dad: "What do you want to do tomorrow?"
Leah: "Go see choo-choo and get donut."
Dad: "Cool, we'll do that."
Monday afternoon.
Dad: "That was a great train ride. Now what?"
Leah: "Let's go get donuts."
Dad: "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."
The display case at Publix is looking a little sparse. Leah sees a large cookie with M&M's baked into the cookie. That's the choice. So, we tell the lady at the counter that we want one chocolate chip cookie with M&M's. Then Leah eyes the donuts. Only two types: one with a white glaze and one with a dark chocolate glaze.
Hmmmm. We now have one chocolate cookie and one chocolate donut.
Leah instructs that we will sit at the cafe-style tables in the front of Publix. Chocolate (noun) can go bad very quickly if not eaten at once. Leah sits down. Daddy removes her jacket.
Dad: "Which one do you want?"
Leah: "Chocolate."
Dad: "The chocolate cookie or the chocolate donut?"
*Notice, chocolate is now an adjective.
Leah: "Choc-o-late!"
Leah (still): "Chocolate, chocolate, CHOCOLATE!"
Dad (uncharacteristically calm): "They're both chocolate [you pleasant angel]. Do you want the donut or the cookie?"
Leah: "Yeah."
Dad: "Uh, donut?"
Leah: "Yeah."
Leah proceeded to eat the (chocolate) donut. I don't know how much chocolate actually made it in her mouth. For such a small donut, she had enough chocolate on her hands, mouth, chin, cheeks, coat sleeves, and tabletop to cover a donut. This is where chocolate becomes a verb. She chocolate herself. Other people in the cafe area seemed to exit as she chocolate herself. Fortunately, Publix stationed a water fountain near what must be an endless supply of napkins. After cleanup, Leah decided that she was up for more. She sampled the cookie. The chocolate cookie, it's the size of a frisbee. She had half of it.
Dad: "What do you want to do tomorrow?"
Leah: "Go see choo-choo and get donut."
Dad: "Cool, we'll do that."
Monday afternoon.
Dad: "That was a great train ride. Now what?"
Leah: "Let's go get donuts."
Dad: "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."
The display case at Publix is looking a little sparse. Leah sees a large cookie with M&M's baked into the cookie. That's the choice. So, we tell the lady at the counter that we want one chocolate chip cookie with M&M's. Then Leah eyes the donuts. Only two types: one with a white glaze and one with a dark chocolate glaze.
Hmmmm. We now have one chocolate cookie and one chocolate donut.
Leah instructs that we will sit at the cafe-style tables in the front of Publix. Chocolate (noun) can go bad very quickly if not eaten at once. Leah sits down. Daddy removes her jacket.
Dad: "Which one do you want?"
Leah: "Chocolate."
Dad: "The chocolate cookie or the chocolate donut?"
*Notice, chocolate is now an adjective.
Leah: "Choc-o-late!"
Leah (still): "Chocolate, chocolate, CHOCOLATE!"
Dad (uncharacteristically calm): "They're both chocolate [you pleasant angel]. Do you want the donut or the cookie?"
Leah: "Yeah."
Dad: "Uh, donut?"
Leah: "Yeah."
Leah proceeded to eat the (chocolate) donut. I don't know how much chocolate actually made it in her mouth. For such a small donut, she had enough chocolate on her hands, mouth, chin, cheeks, coat sleeves, and tabletop to cover a donut. This is where chocolate becomes a verb. She chocolate herself. Other people in the cafe area seemed to exit as she chocolate herself. Fortunately, Publix stationed a water fountain near what must be an endless supply of napkins. After cleanup, Leah decided that she was up for more. She sampled the cookie. The chocolate cookie, it's the size of a frisbee. She had half of it.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Trains, toys, and "Everyone Poops"
A complete day for Leah includes a long ride around a shopping mall in the coal car of the kiddie-train, followed by a quick visit to the toy store. She played in the kitchen set-up towards the front of the store. She enjoyed the mini-sandboxes by the cash registers. She climbed over boxes to reach the little house for the animal figures. Then, she found the item we had to bring home.
"FINALLY! A book that says everything I find funny in life."
By Monday evening, we have read it from beginning to end three times. That may not sound like much, but it exceeds any other book Leah has been exposed to. The best part is that everything in the book is clearly making a strained face. The fish, the whale, the camels. Take a gander at those illustrations and see how you would read that to a child.
Best part:
That's right! A pipe! This book has levels! Once you get past the subject matter, and the drawings of strained animals in mid defecation, you get the absurdity of a man treating his toilet as his inner-sanctum. I guess his cup of coffee is on the other side of the porcelain throne.
Nevermind Kipling, Carroll, or Dickinson. All a three-year-old needs is a little-known author from Japan and the perverse illustrations of a freelance artist to come together in 1977. To compare this book to a mineral, it is gold. To liken it to film, it is Citizen Kane. To christen it a milestone, it is an enthusiastic trip to literature for a little girl, who finds nothing funnier than the fact that everyone poops.
(For those who may not be familiar with his sense of humor, this post was written by my fabulously witty husband. :) )
"FINALLY! A book that says everything I find funny in life."
By Monday evening, we have read it from beginning to end three times. That may not sound like much, but it exceeds any other book Leah has been exposed to. The best part is that everything in the book is clearly making a strained face. The fish, the whale, the camels. Take a gander at those illustrations and see how you would read that to a child.
Best part:
That's right! A pipe! This book has levels! Once you get past the subject matter, and the drawings of strained animals in mid defecation, you get the absurdity of a man treating his toilet as his inner-sanctum. I guess his cup of coffee is on the other side of the porcelain throne.
Nevermind Kipling, Carroll, or Dickinson. All a three-year-old needs is a little-known author from Japan and the perverse illustrations of a freelance artist to come together in 1977. To compare this book to a mineral, it is gold. To liken it to film, it is Citizen Kane. To christen it a milestone, it is an enthusiastic trip to literature for a little girl, who finds nothing funnier than the fact that everyone poops.
(For those who may not be familiar with his sense of humor, this post was written by my fabulously witty husband. :) )
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