Whisper

Our little Hamslice is an early riser, and likes to get out of bed far earlier than his parents. As a compromise we let him crawl in bed with us after 5:30 for some snuggle time and (we hope) maybe some additional sleep.



Hamslice knows he's supposed to be quiet during this time, so he uses it to ruminate about things he has seen, or things he'd like to do during the day. And he talks to himself in a soft, feathery whisper.



He mostly says things like "Today I'd like to stay home from Montessori and play with Mommy" and "I want to go to the playground with the slides and tunnels."



But there's something about the sound of his whisper that lends a "Stephen King" tone to the discussion, making my hair raise when he says things like "Mommy's getting fat" and (terrifyingly) "I want to eat your eyes"

Go Raisins!

Because the Baltimore Ravens are doing so well in the playoffs (thus far) Hamslice's Montessori class is learning about football and what it means to cheer for their home team.

His teachers were crying with laughter when I picked up Hamslice last Friday -- evidently when they asked if he likes the Ravens, he said "yes, I like raisins very much."

Go Raisins.

Pecking Order

Sometimes it's tough being 2 1/2. Evidently, you don't get the respect you think you deserve, so you look for a patsy.

This afternoon Hambone and I found Hamslice in the kitchen, bossing around our terra cotta chicken. He was sitting on his zebra scooter, pointing his finger and commanding the following:

"You go to bed right now or I'll close the door"

"Don't make me mad"

"When I get mad, I get scary"

and so on. It was so adorable, but kind of a reminder of what jerks we can be as parents too. Humbling, really.