Things I Do and Say

This is what happens when I dress myself. I think I look smokin' hot. Who cares that it was 35 degrees outside and that my one boot is on the "wrong" foot?

The following phrases are in heavy rotation lately.

1. I not like it.
2. Dood it again (Pronounced "ah-gi-un" or with the most southern accent imaginable)
3. Hadwee go away.
4. Hadwee drive you crazy, mommy. I not drive you crazy.
5. I want food off my pwate, sweetheart.
6. I not want to.
7. I want daddy come back my house. (Mommy note: Daddy does live here, but is gone before the kids wake up and comes home after they are in bed due to tax season.)
8. Sing "Jesus Wuff Me."
9. I go pee pee Lightning McQueen.
10. Let's go MOPS.

A Bedtime Conversation

Thatcher: "I want see my penis."
Mommy: "Okay,"
Thatcher: "What it dood-n?"
Mommy: "It's just resting in your pants, honey."
Thatcher: "It's a monster. It scare you."

My Battle with Food

This pretty much sums up my relationship with food. I can take it or leave it. Usually, I leave it...and if I happen to take it, I'm going to put it in my hair, rather than my mouth. For the record, that is peanut butter.

My blood work came back a couple weeks ago, and my thyroid is fine. My electrolyte levels, on the other hand, were "a little low" and the doctor said my blood was too acidic. That means that I may have something called renal tubular acidosis (RTA), which (from what mommy can tell) is a disease that occurs when the kidneys fail to excrete acids into the urine, which causes a person’s blood to remain too acidic. Great. Apparently, the altered pH of a person with RTA can decrease the appetite and adversely affect weight gain. Lovely. I go back to the doctor on Wednesday for more testing, so we hopefully will know if there is something really wrong with me or if I am just being stubborn in my battle against food.

Truthfully, I am frustrating mommy to no end with my lack of appetite - especially since her priority in life is to get me to gain weight so I can once again be on the CDC growth chart. Yesterday, I had 3/4 of a cheese egg for breakfast. For lunch, I had two pieces of macaroni and five peas. Dinner was a bit of an improvement - I had about a tablespoon of meatloaf, some green peas, a tater tot, and some dessert Nana left me. She's tried everything to lure me into eating, even resorting to giving me foods Thatcher NEVER would have had (Bagel Bites, fast food cheeseburgers, french fries, daily peanut butter milkshakes) to make sure I am eating the most fattening things imaginable. She's tried everything under the sun and has said she would give me Winston and W's poop if she thought it had a lot of calories and I'd eat it.

Happy Times

Eating the Strawberry Cream Cheese Angel Food Cake Dessert Nana Made

Things I Love

I am a climber. If there is a remotely elevated surface, I am going to climb onto it. Here I am IN the toy basket.

The drawer underneath the oven really is the perfect height for me. Plus, it has the added bonus of holding pans for me to organize. Organizing, by the way, is one of my other passions. I like to sort things, including the food on my high chair tray and laundry. Mommy says I'm a big helper.

My biggest love, however, is daddy. I don't see him much because it is tax season and he goes to work before I wake up and comes home after I'm asleep. If I do catch a glimpse of him, it's all over. He can do no wrong...unless you count putting me down. That really ticks me off because, frankly, if he is home, he should be devoting ALL of his attention to me.

I even try to do things to get his attention. For example, here I am wearing his Masters hat. How can he not want to hold me?

Look Who's Three

Word on the street is that people in Atlanta are staging an uprising if I don't blog soon. I'm nothing if not a man of the people, so here you go. Let's see, since I last wrote, I turned three. It was a week-long celebration with a steady stream of parties, grandparents, and presents. We kicked things off three days before the big day when Granddaddy and Tena flew in to start celebrating. On Friday, I had a big party at school. Mommy brought in Thomas cupcakes for my entire class. It was so cool! It looked like one big cake, but it was really 12 cupcakes put together with Thomas, Percy, and James on top. Saturday morning was the big party! Matthew, Lauren, and Andrew came to my house for a Diego Rescue Adventure Party. We ate Chick-Fil-A nuggets, made animal visors, and went on an animal rescue adventure to find all kinds of animals who had gotten lost trying to make it to my birthday party! Once we finally rescued all of the camels, elephants, monkeys, and skunks that needed rescuing, we celebrated by decorating our very own train cakes. It was really cool. Then, on my actual birthday, we had a Lightning McQueen birthday cake! Really, it doesn't get much better than that.

Eating Lunch with Lauren

Making our Animal Visors

My best friend, Andrew, and the Train Cake Mommy Made

Blowing Out the Candles

The Train Cake I Made!

The Aftermath

I love presents

The Police Officer Costume Granddaddy Gave Me

(Mommy says I look like one of the Village People).

Big Girl (or Not So Much)

I went to the doctor today for my one year check up. It goes without saying that I am small. I didn't clear 17 pounds on Dr. Reilly's scale. She said that in all likelihood, I am just "slight;" but to be sure, she ordered some labs to check my thyroid, iron levels, and heaven knows what else. Mommy warned the nurses that I can be a touch dramatic...just so they wouldn't be shocked in the event that my screams actually propelled my lungs out of my body. The nurses had mommy lie down on the examining table and then positioned me next to her. They put my right arm was under mommy's side and sandwiched my legs between mommy's so I wouldn't kick. I don't know what all the fuss was about. I didn't whimper, much less cry. This is likely going to be the first of many times that I publicly prove mommy wrong just because I can.

After the doctor visit, mommy had a playdate with her friend, Caroline. They've been having playdates ever since mommy had Thatcher and Caroline had Elizabeth just two days apart. I think it is just an excuse for them to get together. I don't care because mommy's friend ROCKS! She bought me my first milkshake. I love her...almost as much as that shake!

Birthday Girl

How convicting! I logged on to see that I haven't posted since before Christmas! Yikes! I've been busy learning how to walk, saying, "Uh-huh," and waking up all hours of the night. I'm also pleased to report that I am finally, at long last, cutting my first tooth. You can't see it yet, but you can feel it. Hooray!

Anyhow, I took my first step back in December when I was 10 months old. This January, I really took off! Gone are the days of crawling! I just pick my 17-pound self up off the floor and walk around wherever I need to go. I really enjoy walking while holding things. Granddaddy says I'm "pulling a Linus" whenever I do it. He says lots of things about me, though. When he was here last week, he dubbed me "Diva Davis" because I put my head down on the floor and cry if things aren't going my way. It usually works, though, so I'm sticking with it.

We've had a big weekend around here on account of my big birthday on Saturday. Nana and Papa and Gran and Papa were in town to celebrate. I was a little grumpy when my party started. Okay...maybe I was more than "a little grumpy." I REALLY perked up when I got my hands on the chocolate cake with strawberry buttercream frosting mommy made for me! It was like having eight cups of coffee. It rocked! Thatcher showed me how to open my presents (read: he ripped open all of my presents himself). Nana and Papa gave me a really cool kitchen set; while Gran and Papa gave me a "Bitty Baby." Mommy and daddy gave me paintings of Paris for my room (clearly daddy had nothing to do with the gift choice); and Thatcher gave me a singing tea set. Those presents (and the many others) were all cool...but none so cool as the MONSTER TRUCK Thatcher received for his birthday. I just won't take my hands off of that thing. Do you think they come in pink???

I'll try to do better about posting. My typist--who is weary from the long hours--assures me that she would have more time for my dictation if I were to start sleeping through the night.

Digging the Cake.

The Caffeine Kicking In...

My Family.

Opening My Tea Set (Note the new outfit. Gran and Nana put me in the tub after the cake. My hair and clothes were simply not fit for opening presents)!