Category Archives: john john

A Child’s Morning Time Wonderland

Saturday morning started out as usual – John John being peckish from the word Go. He ate a purple pluot while the remainder of breakfast was being made.

“Mama, this pluot is made from grapes,” he told me.

“Hmm,” I said, “Weird.”

John responded more appropriately, “You mean it’s a similar color to grapes.”

“Yeah,” said John John.

Then he watched me at the stove from a stool for awhile.  After a bit he said, “I don’t feel good, Mama,” in the most normal voice. He didn’t seem like he didn’t feel good, so I asked him, “Why do you think you don’t feel good?”

“It’s because I ate too many bugs!”

He wasn’t sick, by the way.  Moments after eating a hearty breakfast, he was dancing around like a crazy bird flapping to Mendelssohn.

Speaking of birds, on Sunday morning, also during the breakfast making ritual, he says to John,  “Papa, you know the one where the pigeon turns into a black pigeon at the end?”

“No,” said John, “Which one?”

“The one where the pigeon turns into a black pigeon at the end when the music stops.”

“I don’t have any idea what you are talking about,” John said.

“I don’t have any idea, too,” was John John’s reply.

I did, but I kept that to myself because of the cuteness.

First Photo Essay By John John: Dinner Prep Ritual

We were getting food plated for dinner.  John John was super antsy, due to hunger and being almost 3 years old.  He found my phone.  He touched buttons until he found a photo app.  He took pictures.  I let him because, even if an iPhone was ruined, at least dinner would be served.  Little did I know that he would capture everything so beautifully.  I’ll be happy to remember dinner this way forevermore.

From plating to being seated at the table, I give you John John’s first photo essay:image image image image image image image image image image image image image image

Growing Up (In Spite of Himself)

This weekend, we moved John John to his first non-crib, big boy bed. The first night was a bit rough, but by nap today he seemed to have gotten the hang of it.  I can see, however, that he has some mixed feelings about the move. Last night he plaintively asked for his crib – it was already full of boxes of baby girl clothes…this is probably also related to his soon-to-be big brother status.

Today, he asked me if he was wearing big boy underpants. I told him yes. “Why?” he asked. “Because,” I told him, “You are a big boy now.”

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, and then declared in one of his fullest, nuanced sentences to date:

“No, I’m still just a little baby.”

Little baby has grown up. Even if he didn’t mean to.  He went to bed without any fuss tonight. A big boy.

Dinner Time Stay-cation

The experience was akin to an International Cafe commercial (Anyone remember those? “Jean-Luc!”).  Sitting at the dinner table with my family – imagine it:

I’m holding a bowl of soup up, inhaling the rich scent, looking through the gently curling steam at my loving husband, chef and creator of this amazing dish.   The buttery-richness of homemade stock mixed with kabocha squash.  Every sip brought the soft focus back to this dinner time pastoral, blurring out the loud and fussing toddler just out of frame to my left, probably throwing food on the ground and shouting no or something like that.  Another sip.  I look out the sliding glass door to see the fading colors of yet another beautiful sunset.  The perfect end to what must have been a perfect day.  “Honey,” I didn’t say because I don’t call anyone that, “this soup is perfection.  Every swallow is like going on vacation.”  I actually did say that second part.  And it was true.  So rich and sumptuous.  So yummy.

That’s when I learned that, in addition to kabocha squash and chicken stock, the soup also had an entire stick of butter in it.

Whatever.  I don’t care.  Calgon, take me away…

First (Almost) Concert Experience

My dad was in town playing with the Cypress Quartet.  John John’s first concert!  We met Opapa in front of the venue.  John John was excited.

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We sat in the very back, knowing that at any moment during the concert we might have to bolt.  John John sat on my lap barely making it through the chamber society’s lengthy announcements of their upcoming schedule, but sat up when the musicians entered and walked up to the stage.  He clapped, a member of the audience.

But they didn’t sit down to play.  First was the informational talk on what we were about to hear.  You can imagine how high that flew for a two year old.  We had to leave before the music even began.  (wah-wahhh goes the sad trombone.)

Happily, John John got his own private concert the very next morning.

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He liked that very much.

Of Viff and Other Words That Have Gone the Way of the Dodo Bird

I wrote about Viff in the post about the aquarium.  I was too late on that one, too.  By the time we drove home from the aquarium, he was already saying Fish correctly.

John John pointed to my shoulder recently, and said definitively, “Butt.”  I looked at my shirt; he was pointing to some decorative buttons.  “Button,” I said.  “Can you say, ‘button?'”

“Butt,” he told me.

I kept meaning to make a little post about this because I thought it was cute.  There have been many moments of this, pointing to his pants button, and announcing, “Butt.” Or my collared shirt: “Butt.”

Today, he said, “Button,” and I knew my chance of posting in the moment had slipped by.  But while the iron is still hot, I wish to strike two more times: mokosyll & keemah.

It’s great that he is developing, but I’ll be just a little sad when he finally says motorcycle and cucumber.