Pete is at that age where he correctly uses, on average, one new word every day.

I made brownies today. When they were done, I spread chocolate chips on top and put it back in the oven for one minute to soften them. Then I spread the melted chocolate all over and left it on the stove to cool.

Hours later, the top is still gooey. It will harden to a thin crust eventually.

Pete got up from his nap to discover someone had left a chair in the kitchen. He relocated it to the stove and was using his hands and a measuring spoon from the drawer right there to dig in to the icing. He was covered in chocolate.

No, I didn’t bother to take a picture. Maybe the next time – as I’m sure there will be many of those.

I began to wash him up, and Jenny got a hand-held mirror so he could see himself. He smiled broadly at the image of the little tyke in the mirror. And then he said his new word for the day:

“Funny!”

We have a tiny tyrant here.

For example, when Bill came downstairs this morning, the first word out of Petey’s mouth was “Sit!” with a gesture towards Bill’s chair. And this is how it goes all day long. He tells me where to sit, how to sit, what he wants to eat, when he wants to eat, where he wants to go (and have me follow), what he wants to do (with me helping him or at least keeping him company).

Naturally, with his siblings the most frequent words spoken are “Mine!” and “No!” Don’t sit in “his” chair. Don’t play with “his” toy. And how dare they take away those school papers that he was doodling upon? They’re his now!

I’ve begun to refer to him as le Dauphin. Bill calls him l’Enfant Terrible.

Of course, he’s just so cute, it’s hard to get mad at him when he’s convulsing on the floor after being denied this moment’s pleasure. Not cute enough to get what he wants, at least not all the time.

Here he is, caught red-handed trying to wake Jenny up from a nap. Why should anyone sleep? I’m awake, nap time is so over.

And here he continues to act as though nobody is telling him to leave his sister alone. Perhaps if I don’t look at mom, she’ll just go away. Then I can return to climbing on Jenny. It’s fun, and she deserves it for all those times she bops me in the head when mom turns her back.

He’s been tall enough to do it for at least a month.

He’s been clever enough to do it for at least a few weeks.

Now, finally, he is strong enough to open doors.

ugh.

Little Petey has been in a foul mood fairly often in recent days. He’s 17 months old, and that is reason enough. But then he’s fighting a cold and to make things worse, he is cutting four molars at once.

Usually if I don’t manage to get a shower before he awakes, I can take him into my room and let him play. I don’t know what he does, because when I emerge ten minutes later I don’t see my personal items strewn about the room, but he manages to keep himself happy in that time. This is truly a blessing and quite unlike any of my other children who would spend most of the time while I was in the shower either scolding me or making a huge mess or both.

Yesterday, though, Pete had no desire to play happily while I took a shower. I even got down the hot rollers, something he rarely sees, but this “new toy” only made him mad. “How dare you try to distract me?” seemed to be his point. So instead of showering, we went downstairs and hung out until he was in a better mood.

I tried again. I intentionally ignored the hot rollers which were still on the floor from my previous attempt and showed him a hand-held mirror (often very popular with the kids). Nope. He tried to throw it and expressed to me by his writhing body that he was not interested in permitting me to take a shower. I put on my most stubborn expression and said quite firmly that at the very least I had to go to the bathroom. I placed him gently on the floor (not an easy thing to do with a toddler having a tantrum) and sat myself down. He marched over with an angry face, said “NO!“, and put his chubby hand over the toilet paper. “I’ll show you, Mom. I’ll make you drip dry! HA!” I couldn’t help but laugh.

Fortunately, his mood softened after a minute of us glaring at each other, alternating with me telling him he was being silly. He relinquinshed the toilet paper and went over to the hot rollers. And he amused himself for a nice long time.

Molars take a long time to come in. The top ones have been at it for several weeks now and still are only about half out. The bottom ones have only just popped a tiny corner out. So, perhaps by February he’ll be in a better mood!