Took some photos...
Walked in the city with us, wearing his cool style hat, as he refers to it. He pretty much won't go anywhere these days without that hat. He's getting quite particular about what he wears.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Last weekend...
Toby wrote his own name on the blackboard at the barber shop for the first time...
Took some photos...
Walked in the city with us, wearing his cool style hat, as he refers to it. He pretty much won't go anywhere these days without that hat. He's getting quite particular about what he wears.
Took some photos...
Walked in the city with us, wearing his cool style hat, as he refers to it. He pretty much won't go anywhere these days without that hat. He's getting quite particular about what he wears.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Being Three
Being 3 years old is really such a magical age.
There are days when he is so adorable, so sweet, kind and so funny, that I'd like him to stay this age for ever.
And there are days too when being three is not such fun. He gets frustrated, or too tired, and still has to have his tantrums every now and then. Though these times are getting more infrequent.
I love that he still loves to hug me, kiss me, and tell me how much he loves me. That he loves to play with me, laugh with me, and just be his eccentric little self.
In the local supermarket he insists on helping me when we need to stop by to pick up a few essentials. Dragging around cartons of milk nearly the same size as him or huge bags of potatoes. Other times it's the whole basket he will carry, refusing to let me help him, stopping every few seconds to put it down and catch his breath. The guys who work there laughing in delight as they watch him.
I love it when he drags my scarves out of the drawer and Luis t-shirts, draping them over his head and pretending to be Darth Vader. Or pretending to be Prince, dancing around singing 1999, while Gaw-Gaw and I have to watch and clap, as if we were the audience. Or pretending to be me.
I love that his imagination and dreams have no limits yet. He believes that one day he will be a farmer and a spaceman and a daredevil and a graffiti artist, all at the same time.
The other night though the 2 sides of being three seemed to collide, making me first rage with anger, then howl with laughter.
We'd had a hard evening, he was tired and cranky and so was I. He was getting ready for bed and there was plenty of whining going on. Then he just absolutely refused to brush his teeth. I got pretty cross and fed up of the whole evening and started shouting. Toby got cross and started screaming. And then we came to a compromise, I can't even really remember how. He finally agreed to brush his teeth but only if he could do so naked, wearing his frog goggles.
This could only happen when you're three years old.
The evening ended with us laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.
There are days when he is so adorable, so sweet, kind and so funny, that I'd like him to stay this age for ever.
And there are days too when being three is not such fun. He gets frustrated, or too tired, and still has to have his tantrums every now and then. Though these times are getting more infrequent.
I love that he still loves to hug me, kiss me, and tell me how much he loves me. That he loves to play with me, laugh with me, and just be his eccentric little self.
In the local supermarket he insists on helping me when we need to stop by to pick up a few essentials. Dragging around cartons of milk nearly the same size as him or huge bags of potatoes. Other times it's the whole basket he will carry, refusing to let me help him, stopping every few seconds to put it down and catch his breath. The guys who work there laughing in delight as they watch him.
I love it when he drags my scarves out of the drawer and Luis t-shirts, draping them over his head and pretending to be Darth Vader. Or pretending to be Prince, dancing around singing 1999, while Gaw-Gaw and I have to watch and clap, as if we were the audience. Or pretending to be me.
I love that his imagination and dreams have no limits yet. He believes that one day he will be a farmer and a spaceman and a daredevil and a graffiti artist, all at the same time.
The other night though the 2 sides of being three seemed to collide, making me first rage with anger, then howl with laughter.
We'd had a hard evening, he was tired and cranky and so was I. He was getting ready for bed and there was plenty of whining going on. Then he just absolutely refused to brush his teeth. I got pretty cross and fed up of the whole evening and started shouting. Toby got cross and started screaming. And then we came to a compromise, I can't even really remember how. He finally agreed to brush his teeth but only if he could do so naked, wearing his frog goggles.
This could only happen when you're three years old.
The evening ended with us laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Daredevil Danger
I think I've mentioned before how much daredevil play goes on around here. He refers to himself as 'Daredevil Danger', and spends many an hour jumping off beds and chairs, stunt rolling onto the floor with theatrical style.
So of course, the moment Luis spotted this Evil Knievel helmet in a bike shop, I just knew we would not be leaving without it.
So of course, the moment Luis spotted this Evil Knievel helmet in a bike shop, I just knew we would not be leaving without it.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Making Empanadas
Last weekend, Luis decided he wanted to make homemade empanadas, those delicious Chilean pastries, filled with beef, egg and olives.
Luis braised the beef for hours and hours the day before. I made the pastry in the morning, with a few tips from Abu. It became a production line in the kitchen, and Toby turned out to be a great empanada maker.
Luis braised the beef for hours and hours the day before. I made the pastry in the morning, with a few tips from Abu. It became a production line in the kitchen, and Toby turned out to be a great empanada maker.
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