Les Bonnes Choses

Okay, okay, I had better bump that last entry off the top before the natives get restless. To do this, I'm going to have to reach into my bag of old dependable blog topics, which is something I don't like to do too often for fear of running out of material. Actually, I just blog about stuff that happens to me, so I suppose the only way I am going to run out of material is to go into a coma. But whatever. Anyways, on to the entry:

So Le P'tit Monsieur has recently joined the ranks of the bipeds. At about the same time, he also learned how to throw things. And not just in the style of dropping things from the high chair. I mean real, honest-to-god throwing. I think he picked it up watching Jude play a baseball variant with a mini beach-ball and a foam sabre. From this, he figured out that balls make excellent projectiles. So a ball on the floor is most likely to be kicked, and a ball in hand is likely to be thrown. It's also worth two in the bush, I hear. It wasn't long before this learning was over-generalized to just about anything that he can easily grasp: blocks, remote controls. I'd like to get him to a big fat greek wedding, because he'd be in heaven when the dishes started flying.