We got a piece of mail this week requesting our presence in the Alumni Band over the holidays. Mommy started getting very excited about taking Chris to another Butler Basketball game. We started waving the paper back and forth as we talked about it. Chris heard us say Bulldog, we may have talking about getting him ready for his career as a Butler Bulldog, bringing him up Right and all that, and I swear, for the record, he said, “I Wanna Be A Bulldog!” Baby, you may very well be! Speaking of calling him Baby, Chris no longer wants me to call him Baby. I got yelled at today. I was pulling him out of the car to go to Jo-Ann’s and as I gave him the old heave-ho, I said Come On Baby. He said, I No Baby, I Bid Boy. OK, you’re a big boy. It will be much easier to not confuse him with a baby once we actually have another one floating around here.

Chris has been plugged up. When we saw Dr. West last week, after her gentle grumblings at us for not using the feeding pump, she ordered an x-ray. Not surprisingly, Chris’s colon was full, but not “constipated” or “impacted” full, just full of poo. He had not had Miralax for nearly a week. She suggested using Benefiber to bulk him up. We put that in his juice on Friday and Saturday, but it didn’t do anything for him. Instead, he was barely doing anything at all, and by Sunday…nothing. He’s not been eating much either, which is a bummer because I’m tracking everything again for Dr. W. He did surprise me this weekend, when Daddy made homemade macaroni and cheese, which Chris called NooNools (noodles) and he liked it. The first time he’s liked macaroni. Anyway, Monday I started up with half capful of Miralax, and continued it yesterday too. But last night, he passed a small plug (poo poo on the potty, yeah!) about the size of half of my ring finger. Then he proceeded to not sleep from 3-5, crying out often, Eric and I swapped restarting the music and adjusting him. As I listened, not sleeping to him not sleeping. I realized he was plugged up seriously now. So, first thing this morning, he got 4 ounces of water with a half capful of miralax, followed up by 8 ounces of juice with another half capful. No milk. Well, that did the trick. He’s been filling diapers all afternoon, and the smell, wooo-eee! During our 1 hour therapy this afternoon, I changed him 4 times! The good news is that we resumed some mild use of his Feeding Tube. We put 4 ounces into him Monday night, and then 6 ounces last night. Tonight we only made it to 3 ounces before he started complaining. But I’m pretty happy , at least he hasn’t puked. Yet.

Chris received a pair of Wall-E paper goggles as a party favor from the birthday of a classmate last month. He just discovered them this morning. He had me put them on his face, calling them "Doddles". Once I started calling him Wall-E, oh, he ran with it. This evening he put them on and was running around the house saying I Wall-E (Wah-yee) and we told him to beep, so he was going beep beep. We've never seen Wall-E, we don't own it, but holy cow, was Chris infatuated with just the idea of it. Adorable. We may have to put it on the Christmas List. Then it was Daddy’s turn. Daddy put them on and Wall-E began chasing Chris around the house, and when he’d find him, oh Chris would laugh and laugh. They took turns, I couldn’t move from laughing so hard myself.

Speaking of laughing so hard we can’t move, Friday evening we were getting ready to go to a pitch-in. The oven beeped to tell me it was done preheating, and I’d stepped out of the room, leaving Chris to eat moreO’s at the table. Suddenly, he yells…”Supper’s Done!” Chris has been very good about announcing meal times…no matter which meal, they’re all Supper’s Done. Anyway, we told Chris to go get his shoes (something he’s been able to decently do lately now that we moved all his shoes to the bottom of his closet). He returned quickly however, and walked up to me, “Tathy, Where Are Shoes?” Eric laughed so hard, he literally could not pull the casserole out of the oven, he literally tipped right over, and fell on the floor laughing, a literal case of ROTF (Roll on the Floor). We’ve been working on getting him to say his name. Sometimes he’s Ters Noolan, or Tiffers Noolan. Today I actually heard Will-an instead of Noolan, but it may have been a fluke. If we ask him what our names are, sometimes he’ll just call us Mommy and Daddy, but if we pry and ask for our Other Names, he’s beginning to respond. I’m Tathy Noolan and Daddy is Erit Noolan.

Oh, and something else we’ve learned about his interpretation of English grammar. Apparently, Better is the opposite of Hot. He actually told me the other day, “It’s not hot, it’s Beyer (better).” That would be my fault. If I give him a food that is too hot, I’ll blow on it, and tell him , there, now it’s better. Better. Clearly, if something is no longer hot, it’s better. Better to eat. Makes perfect sense actually. Chris was telling Eric that the bathwater was too hot. So, Eric ran a bunch of cold water in, to cool it down to warm. Eric told Chris it was warm. “No, not warm, beyer, (better)”. Chris has also fallen in love with balloons, we just love the way he says it, “Booloon”. He’s content to play keep away with balloons, or to play catch. He’ll pick one up and come charging at me, “Chap Booloon!” (Catch balloon!) And I do. He’s also started a new trick, “Say hi to”…whatever he’s playing with. I first noticed this Monday when I made myself a pot of tea (Decaf Ruby Chai-yum!), Chris wanted some. He’s not so good at sipping warm tea, so I grabbed his straw. I grabbed his curly straw given to him by his therapist, aka Crazy straw, to put in the tea. Boy drank half my mug of tea! He like the “T Z Straw”. By the end of our cup of tea, he was telling me to “say hi T Z straw.” In the bathtub last night it was “Say Hi to fyoot (flute)”, and today, “Say hi to Wah-yee.” I think it’s a new game. Better than growly monster game. He’s picked up this growling way of conversation, he’ll buckle his arms down and glare at me through his eyebrow, grumbling something, sometimes I understand, and sometimes I don’t. If I understand it’s usually something he just asked for, and I said no. I literally witnessed one of his classmates, a. growling at and groping on her mother, and b. the mother ignoring her and letting her get away with it. Made me twitch. Chris does not get away with it, Chris gets timeouts. It’s not going to get ignored around here.

Speaking of things we have been ignoring, on Saturday, Chris received a much needed Haircut. We had been discussing it all week. His hair had gotten downright fluffy. I guess Mommy mentioned his need of a haircut one too many times. Before he stood in front of the mirror ready to brush his teeth and kept telling me Hit-tut, hit-tut. I didn’t understand. I told him to show me, and he pointed to Eric’s beard trimmer. That’s what we’d been using to give him at home trims. Ah –ha! Haircut! Yes, you need a haircut. I surrendered and opted to let the professionals do it this time, since holiday pictures are in our future. As we walked into the Clip place, I let go of Chris’s hand, and went to open the door, and he moved…right into the path of the opening door. I slammed that giant door into his poor head. I thought he was going to get a bloody nose, and the nice gals brought me a washcloth to try to cool him. It didn’t work. What worked? A pink Dum Dum lollipop. My Pop! He was crying. I kept saying I was sorry, so sorry. He’d say “Sorry Mommy” in this downright pitiful voice. No I’m sorry. “Sorry Mommy” he’d say again. No I’m sorry. I’m the one that hit you with a giant door, I’m sorry. It became a battle, the weirdest kind of battle we’ve had, and though it wasn’t the first time for the battle of the sorrys, (Who argues over who is the sorriest?) it was the most public. Our audience thought he was enchanting, of course. Once he realized where he was, and that he was getting a haircut, he got excited. He proceeded to melt down because we had to wait our turn for him to get a haircut. He wanted his Hit-tut, right NOW, like we were going to leave without getting him one. Once he got his haircut, he behaved very well, it seems it’s been ages since he’s had someone besides Daddy cutting his hair. He only flinched a couple times, no wonder, it’s hard getting around his ears, and trimming that “tail” in the back. But he was a champ, and he got another lollipop for his troubles, and now he looks like such a big boy. The next day, he had a nice welt on his forehead where his cowlick is, and when he looked in the mirror he told me he wanted to Doh Hit-tut. This time I knew he wanted to go get another Haircut. We refrained.

He’s a big Winnie the Pooh fan this week. His new favorite character is Christopher Robin, “Tiffers Wobin”. This evening, Chris was watching Pooh: Seasons of Giving. Chris was very excited when Pooh found Christopher Robin, because earlier this week we caught Pooh: The Search for Christopher Robin. Poor Chris spent the better part of an hour wondering, Where Tiffers Wobin? That was an improvement, everytime there was a "commercial break" (on Disney channel, they advertise their own products) he would see an add for Tinkerbell, the movie, and now he's dying to watch that. I was telling Eric later, and it got him all worked up again, "Wanna Watch Teentbeyo". We may have to put that on his Christmas list too. So, then he kept asking, Did Pooh find Tiffers Wobin? I think he was seriously bothered that we had lost him. But later, when we were reading his book about Pooh, and Christopher Robin showed up, “Where’s Tiffers Wobin? Right Here!” Christopher’s use of Right Here, doesn’t necessarily mean Right Here. Eric had him on the changing table the other night, and Chris wanted a toy. Eric asked him, where is it? “Right here!” Right here? Eric was looking around and around the nursery, and couldn’t find it. Where, show me? “Right Here!”, and Christopher points, out the door of the nursery, past the hall, into the living room, where it sat on the floor, in his direct site, yes, but not Right Here. Now sometimes he gets it right, Sunday afternoon, Chris got a late nap, he’d gone down late because of his friend’s birthday party, and Bryn’s family called, wanting to play. We thought we might have to actually Wake The Sleeping Baby (something we dread doing). We opened the door, subtle. Then Eric went in to check on him, and instead of being asleep, he had his blanket over his head (another new trick he’s been doing, playing possum). Eric asks, Hmmm, is there a boy in here that wants to see Bryn? Right Here! And up he popped, ready and willing to see his friend. Then once we got there, he played and chased Bryn all over the house, until both were ready to drop. What surprises me is his interaction with Bryn’s sister, Shay who is almost 1. Normally Chris doesn’t want to play with her, he does not appreciate that she tries to eat the toys he wants, whether he’s been playing with them or not. He’ll usually just say No Shay, or Help Shay, he doesn’t really interact with her. However, like most girls, Shay thinks Chris is fabulous and she crawls along trying to follow him wherever he goes. We think she’s got quite the crush, though it’s hard to tell who loves him more, Shay or Bryn. Bryn has told her parents that she loves Chris; we’re fairly sure she thinks Chris is her boyfriend. She runs around after him, “Hold My Hand Tiff!” And he does. At one point Sunday evening, Bryn was on the couch getting a story read, and Chris and Shay were nearby on the floor. Chris had a baby doll’s washcloth and when Shay crawled by, he reached out and used the washcloth to “wipe” her bottom. We laughed, until he stood up and wiped his own bottom. (To assure protection of innocents, both bottoms were completely clothed) Is it some kind of weird betrothal?

So, meanwhile, earlier that day, Chris went to a birthday party for his friend Dane, a Skating Party. Now the last time we went roller skating, I carried him in his skates, while I skated. I got told to stop, something about safety, blah blah blah. This time, as soon as he saw his friend and other kids skating (and it was a full house) he wanted skates, “State”. So he did. Daddy did a couple laps, he cruised the arcade. Then we moved the party to a smaller isolated curtained off area, and waited for pizza and cake. And waited, and waited. We were hungry, having not had a proper lunch for a party that started at 1. By 2:45, the kids were antsy, and had some of them had begun an impromptu game of Duck Duck Goose. Chris was intrigued, especially when one child would get up and start running. Soon, Chris climbed out of my lap, and joined in right behind the Gooser, running in the circle. Once that person started taking their turn, Duck duck…..Chris started tapping children, Goose Goose Goose…. Then when the first child took off running, half the kids on the floor got up to run, having been “goosed” by Chris. It was hysterical. All he wanted to do was Run! Never mind the other objects of the game.

The great debate of late seems to be seems to get dressed or not to get dressed. Most days, Chris will request to Stay Jammies. Sometimes I’m able to oblige. Sometimes, we have to get dressed. He seems to be very concerned with everyone in the household and whether or not they Dia Stret (Get Dressed). Every morning. Today we got an 8 word sentence while reading about Pooh: Is Pooh Jammies or is he dia stret? (Is Pooh in his jammies or did he get dressed?) He’s a big fan of his pajamas. He loves to pick which ones he’ll wear, tonight it was Tooloos Jammies. (Tools Jammies), and the other night while Daddy was preparing him for bed, he lay there quoting Jammie Time (Pajama Time-one of his favorite books) on the Changing Table, though it had been a good couple weeks since we read it. We broke it out again immediately thereafter. The other day I put him in a shirt that had a firetruck on it, because it was red, and he wanted a red shirt. He called it a “Firefigher Trut” instead of a Firetruck. Today during speech therapy, he picked up a note card with a firefighter on it. He’s a big fan of firefighters. Last year, he received a gift of fireman parts, and he loves them. His favorites lately are the backpack (patpat) which is a plastic tank with a plastic hose that comes off, and the gloves, “Dubs”. He lost one of his firefighter gloves, and we’ve scoured the house. But it’s ok, because now that it’s cold outside, he’s thrilled to put on his “dubs” (mittens) whenever we leave the house. There are worse things, I know kids that don't want to wear their coats at all, mine on the other hand can't wait to put his gloves on, I think I get him into the coat just so he can put on the gloves.