Co-Author, Baby Soft, and Baby Mine

Co-Author:
Vash used to love to type on my computer and laugh like a mad scientist while he did it. I never minded and we actually thought it was quite funny, until recently when he pulled a few of the keys off  rendering Charles McGowan (My laptop) unusable. He wont be helping me write books any more, I think.

Baby Soft:
Vash is going through a phase where he wants to have or use whatever I have or use. My food, my shoes, my make up. I out on a hair band and he wants one. He likes to wear a flower clip on his shirt on Sundays and we call it a pretty. I pretend to curl his eye lashes and he wants my blush too. Anyway, he used to want to put lotion on all the time and I couldn't figure it out because I rarely wear lotion. He'd pull out every lotion I have and put a little on. One fragrance on his legs, a different fragrance on his arms, a third on his tummy. Lotion, lotion, lotion. What was going on? Why this addiction? Well, Nana figured it out. She was snuggling him and rubbing his legs when she noticed a few dry patches on them. Psoriasis. It runs it the family. Has haunted Nana for years. Poor little guy wanted the lotion because it made him feel better.

Baby Mine:
When Vash was a new baby, just days old, I had the baby blues and would cry for no reason at all. Well, he had his days and nights mixed up and with Craig having work all day, I often stayed up at night and rocked him. He'd cry unless I sang. I'd sing Colors of the Wind, God Help the Outcasts, to name a few. The song he really liked was Baby Mine from Dumbo, though. Like Father like son, Craig and his daily dose of Dumbo. So there we were. Vash staring intently into my eyes, me staring back, bawling like an idiot, singing Baby Mine at two in the morning.
Baby mine, don't you cry.
Baby mine, dry your eyes.
Lay your head, close to my heart,
never to part,
baby of mine. 

Dress up Doll

I didn't play with many dolls when I was little. I guess that's why it took me forever to realize that I could dress Vash up like a life size baby doll. I'm not kidding you! Even though my mother bought him outfits for 4th of July and Christmas and Valentines day, etc., I just kept forgetting and putting him in ordinary clothes. I'm almost surprised I remembered Halloween. *joke* But there was one thing I realized right from the get go. Vash could be used as a message board. When Craig had a hard day at school, he would come home to find Vash wearing an "I Love Daddy" onesie, or if he was ready to do a project Vash would have on a "Daddy's Little Helper" onesies.  Those onesies are  still my favorites.

Let's Get Physical

Vash was ready to crawl at age six months, but we believe that due to the nasty state of the carpet in our first appartment, he saw it fit to just rock back and forth on his knees on a receiving blanket where it was safe. We think he thought that because when he turned seven months, we moved into our current home where the carpet is MUCH cleaner and as soon as he was set down began to crawl. Well, at least he had standards.

Helper

Ever since Vash could walk, he's wanted to be a helper. He wanted to help put his toys away. He wanted to feed himself and he even wanted to help Daddy mop. Craig remembers Vash pushing the water bucket around to wherever Craig was mopping so that he didn't have to do it. Now that he's bigger, he really does help alot. Yes, Vash likes sweeping the back porch with Grandpa, (They call themselves the Busy Broomers.), plugging in the vacuum cleaner, and helping me cook dinner by stirring the pots and randomly adding seasonings. He likes to try and help Rhyla eat and he likes to help carry in groceries. If we're there when he does it, he helps Papa check the mail. He even holds things for Daddy when he's using the grill or changing the AC filter. My favorite, I think, is when he thinks the carpet needs to be mopped and I get shocked by a sopping wet rug beneath my feet. LOL

Doing the dishes.

Playing with Rhyla. (Rhyla is also learning to "help" feed herself. Oh, the sticky mess.)

Showing Rhyla how EXACTLY you play with this toy.

1+1= A bad photo opportunity

When Vash was one he was such a camera ham. We took him in for his birthday pictures and he was all smiles and posing. He hugged his Pooh bear when we asked him too. He was so cooperative. Then this year, we had to drag him in kicking and screaming. TWICE. The second time we took photo's of him crying until he realized that it wasn't going to hurt him and then he started to smile. Confession: the pictures of him crying were so cute, we had a collage made of him with a caption that reads "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to!"

Lights On!

Vash enjoys lights. Now that he's tall enough to turn them on and off by himself, that's what he likes to do instead of taking a nap. But way before he was 37 inches tall and before he could walk, we took him to McKormick railroad park to see the Christmas lights. They have a train at the park and it slowly takes passengers through a man made Light Wonderland. They have Santas and presents galore, "flying" reindeer, elves, and usually some particle board cut outs of a recent popular cartoon. (E.G. they had Shrek that year.) But the thing that makes this ride the most special is all the lights. Hundreds of thousands of light every where. Even though Vash was only about six months old when we took him, he seemed to really enjoy it. For a wiggle worm who never wanted to be held, he sat quietly and still, looking around with wide eyes for the whole ten minutes of the train ride. He looked so cute with his puffy coat and hat, all wrapped in a blanket. His cheeks still got pink, but that's Vash. Ivory skin and pink puffy cheeks. We had to skip last year because I was about 8 1/2 months pregnant and didn't want to risk delivering on a train. We're pretty excited to take both the kids this year.

Extra Special Gift

Vash was only days old on Craig's first father's day. Craig was changing Vash on the automan. It was just after church so Craig was wearing his nice white shirt and tie. Any how, Vash was breast fed and any one who breast feeds knows how.... interesting baby poop is from a breast fed baby. Well, Craig was changing the diaper when all of a sudden... BOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!! Out came bright yellow seedy poop all over Craig, his white shirt, his tie, onto the wall behind him, onto the couch, and even on his face. Craig tried not to throw up, clean himself up, while I cleaned up the baby and the walls the best I could. Craig was sputtering and mumbling something about "Did that on purpose....gross... why on Earth..." I tried to lighten the mood and said, " Well, Craig, just think about this. He's probably saying 'Happy Father's Day!' in the only way he can."