ok, so these are actually two completely different stories, but I'm thinking of them now, so I will tell them both. Please note how each story involves a favorite food of mine.
1st - ¡Oh No Paco!
So, let's start out by saying that Henry is not allowed to use the computer. He likes to see stuff happening on the monitor, but has no concept of how to make stuff happen. He understands that his mommy and papa grab this small hand-held thing and make lots of clicky noises, and so, naturally, he loves to copy that if he can. This means that I'll come back to the computer to find 48 different programs that I've never even used are open, there's new stuff on my desktop that wasn't there before, and other things that make me less than pleased. And Henry KNOWS that he's not allowed to use the computer, so he will jump at the opportunity any time that he realizes that we've left the door to that room open.
Now, a few weeks ago (may have been a bit longer than that), Henry was taking such an opportunity while I was away in the kitchen. From a distance, I hear THE giggle. The giggle that proves that he is fully aware that he is doing something that he shouldn't be and knows that he's getting away with it. I start walking towards the TV/Computer room. He hears me, starts screeching and mashing the mouse buttons like mad. I stick my head in the room, "Whatcha doing, Henry?"
He's got his left hand on the mouse, and in his right hand is Paco, the dog
(as opposed to Paco the man, the best Mexican Chef EVER, in my opinion. I could tell you about Paco's restaurant, The New Rebozo all day, but this blog is about my son, not about how I love Negro Modelo, Margaritas, those little goat cheese tamales, chiles en nogada, and las Enchiladas Pancho Villas - oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!!). He (Henry, not either of the Pacos) looks up at me, quickly takes his hand off the mouse, quickly holds Paco the dog up to the mouse, and says, "
¡Oh No, Paco!"
For those of you that do not know Paco, here he is:
2nd - The Ice Cream Surprise
Henry loves ice cream. I love ice cream, too. I don't trust anyone who doesn't love ice cream. So, as Henry and I were walking to the library on Monday, we saw the owner of
The Brown Cow Ice Cream Parlor (best ice cream ever). Instantly, I thought - Henry and I need to go get some ice cream after we return our books.
So, we did. I didn't tell Henry this, I wanted it to be a surprise. As we walk up to the store front, Henry yells out "ICE CREAM!" I was surprised at this, wondering how he knew that's where we were, but whatever. He was excited about ice cream, and really, so was I.
We get our ice cream, sit down at the table (I put Henry in a regular chair instead of a high chair), and he just wouldn't stay put. He'd get a bite of ice cream, then try to jump off the chair. I'd remind him that he needed to sit if he wanted more ice cream (to which he's say "more ice cream please papa" and would get back in the seat). But after a few minutes (and a few more times of me insisting that he sit), he looks at me and says "all done ice cream. toys," clearly indicating the play area in the corner of the shop.
Who is the child that didn't want to eat his ice cream? Putting toys over ice cream? What is this nonsense? I wasn't TOO bummed about it, cause that just meant more for me, but I feel that this is cause for concern.
Oh, and Henry can say his name now. "Henny. Berto. Rado."
The End.
