Josiah and I went to the park today to play and get a glimpse of the East Lake golf course where the PGA Tour Championship is currently taking place. We were playing on the playground when Josiah stopped and got a pensive face. I asked him if he needed to poop and told him to come to me, but he wouldn't budge. I knew that he just wanted to poop in his pants so he could keep playing. Clearly, that isn't an option. We had to leave the park early so we could learn the lesson that intentionally pooping in pants means play time is over.
I still wanted to go to the far side of the park to see the golf tournament up close and personal, so we detoured our exit slightly. I was standing on a street corner that is apparently midway down the fairway of the 10th green. We hadn't been standing there long when a golf ball plunked right on the outside of the fence in front of us and down into the weeds. I giggled, knowing some player wasn't too happy at the moment (these are the 30 best players in the world!) The tournament official came over and hopped up to look over the fence. I told him it was in the weeds directly below him and then crossed the street to locate it. I asked him if he wanted it back and he told me the player was on his way down and would tell me himself. I stood there looking at the ball until a tall gentleman came to the edge of the fence and began inquiring about the ball. He asked what it looked like and so I picked it up and answered a series of questions he had to verify it actually belonged to him. He asked me to hold it up so he could see the Sharpie cross drawn on the side before saying, "alright" and walking to the fairway to make his next swing. I handed the ball to Josiah and a man came running to us saying, "Do you know who that was?!" I didn't. He wasn't one of the 4 golfers I would recognize by face (I am proud that I would know that many). He told me with much animation, "That was Stewart Cink! He won the British Open this year! That's a great ball to have!" I was grateful and we walked down the length of the fairway to the opening gates. In incredibly random timing we ran into Bob, who had stepped out of the gates to wait on a friend. I quizzed him on the winner of the British Open and then gave him the ball as a prize for the right answer. Way to go Josiah on pooping your pants at just the right time!
Josiah with the ball.
There were a couple of things I meant to mention in my earlier post about Josiah's new quirks. They are as follows:
1) Josiah has to tell everything bye-bye. This has actually proven to be a very effective coping mechanism for him to bring closure to events. As we leave the house he will say bye-bye to everything he sees. If we are going night-night he does the same thing.
2) Josiah says three words that sound exactly the same to me: tee-tee, tennis, and pizza. This is very distressing, as he makes me think he needs to use the potty. It is worse that he loves tennis and pizza and talks about both often.
3) Josiah is a musical man. He loves to get one instrument and bring you another so you can play together. He often makes me play the guitar and then runs over and grabs his xylophone or drum and plays along. Every morning that he watches his Thomas the Train sing-a-long he goes in search of his drum and plays it along with the songs. Today I caught him playing along to the music I had on in the office. I took a cute candid video that I posted on my video bar.
4) Josiah loves his daddy's music. He starts to cry if I try to play something else on iTunes. He KNOWS which songs are his daddy's and often requests I turn them on. He even knows when to clap in sync with the songs.
5) Josiah is a creature of habit, so today we had to do everything the same way we did it in the past. We made up a new game in the kitchen of tossing the kitchen towel back and forth (he tells me, "Mama, tetch! (catch)" Later he decided he wanted to play again, but he took me into the kitchen and pointed to the exact spot I was sitting before and told me to "seat." (ie, have a seat). Before bed he wanted me to watch him play basketball, but apparently I sat on a certain part of the couch when I watched in the past. He moved his dump truck out of the way and directed me, "Mama, T-ouch! (ie, couch). He stood and patted the couch where I needed to sit before going to shoot baskets. I got up at one point and he got flustered and told me, "mama! no! t-ouch! t-ouch!" I had to sit back down, but I moved closer to him and assured him it would be fine that I was sitting on a different part.
These few additions might be as long as the first blog. Oh well. That's what I get for taking such a hiatus.
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