An estranged girlfriend was wrecking this family’s annual beach pic. Bye-bye, Blondie.

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(Click here to see the boys make landfall in full size)

The world, as seen by Nate at two, is apparently very different than the one seen by the rest of us. When we first began teaching him the basic colors, everything was green. Everything. Unless it really was green, in which case it was either red, pink, or orange. This made possible the following exchange:

“Nate, what color is this orange?”

“Gree!”

“What about these greens?”

“Or-anch!” 

And while he may be technically wrong, he’s at least gleefully technically wrong. He believes in the response he’s giving, and he loudly delivers it with such enthusiasm that it makes me smile, if not hope that Jill isn’t somewhere trying to put down Sam or transport nitroglycerin from one side of the room to the other.

He’s also spectacularly letterblind. 

We’re in the big bathroom. Liam’s standing on his toes and leaning over the edge of the old clawfoot tub, repeatedly filling a plastic pitcher, then emptying it. Nate pulls out a toy-filled basket from under the changing table and turns it, spilling its contents onto the floor. ”Uh-oooh,” he says, looking up at me. Liam pauses briefly and turns around.

“Liam didn’t do that, Da-da,” he informs me helpfully, always quick to point out when he’s in the right, even when accidental. He stares at Nate for a moment before turning back to the faucet. We’ve been trying to teach him to use personal pronouns, but for now, he continues to call everyone by name, himself included.

“Keep that water in the tub, buddy. Understand?”

“Stand.”

“Thank you.”

I kneel down. Among the jumbled assortment of bath toys are oddly-matched ducks, foam letters, plastic hippos, and at least three incarnations of Elmo, one of whom is on a jet ski. I separate several of the foam letters.

Nate, what letter is this?” I ask, pointing to the A.

“R!” Nate exclaims excitedly, settling back onto the floor and leaning in. Liam continues to provide background sloshing.

“That was an ‘A’. Okay, now…” I point to the K. “What letter is this one?”

“G!”

“‘K’? Alright. What about this E? What letter is this E?

“O!”

“Are you even listening to Da-da? Let’s try something else. What color is this?” I ask, holding up the A.

“Gree!”

“That was red. And what about this one? What color is it?” - K

“Pink!”

“Purple. Aaaand, this? What color is it?” - E

“R!”

“Close, blue. And what color is this one? I ask, holding up the K again.

“Or-anch!”

He looks at me happily, and Liam sloshes another pitcher down into the drain, keeping that water in the tub.

Nodding, I add ‘bomb squad technician’ to the list of things Nate might want to avoid becoming when he grows up, along with ‘air traffic controller’, ’eye chart designer’, and ’stoplight’.

On the positive side, he could still potentially have a career in Navajo code talking, country music, or barring either of those, government service.

Over the weekend, I was able to snap a few pictures of the elusive squirrel as he sniffed around our porch pots, then mysteriously disappeared back into the trees.

happy holidays from the Heatons

www.billandjill.com

[version 2006]

happy holidays! from the Heatons. Bill, Jill, Liam, and Nate

keep tabs on us at www.billandjill.com

[version 2005]

Heaton’s Greetings!

from Bill, Jill, Liam, and ‘Baby Boy’ (due 03/2006)

[version 2004]

Happy Holidays! From the Heatons

Bill, Jill, Liam, Charlie, Gordon, Blooper and Moe!