Oliver update: 22 months

A friend with a kid Oliver's age asked at what point you stop referring to the age in months and just say, "almost two." When asked Oliver's age, I still mostly reply "22 months," which I guess is starting to sound a little silly, especially to non-parents. Give me another month, though, and the response will be that his second birthday is next month. Given that I still clearly remember the days of counting his age in days and then weeks, counting his age in years is just one of the many transitions that happen as your little baby grows up.

As I now firmly fit in the "hugely pregnant" category, (but don't ever say that to my face) the summer heat has taken its toll on me. But it hasn't slowed down Oliver too much. His favorite place to be is outside. I don't know if it's the age, or the fact that the heat (especially in the afternoon) sometimes forces us to stay indoors, (or at least forces me to stay indoors, and then, by default, Oliver) but the whining I listen to because he can't go outside can reach intolerable levels. Luckily Chris's business travel has ended and he's home more afternoons than not and they'll play together until dinner time. I either make dinner or relax and put my feet up (literally), all within the comforts of central AC.

Since this is Oliver's first summer where he's truly playing outside, (he couldn't really crawl well until the latter half of last summer, so outdoor time was spent either in the stroller or lounging in the grass) we're suddenly acquiring toys designated for outdoor fun. He likes pulling his wagon and pushing and riding on his carts. He's completely outgrown the ride-on toys, but until we find him a tricycle, he's been happily making do. He likes tossing balls around or coloring the sidewalk with chalk. If he sees you with the hose, he wants you to fill his watering can, which he immediately dumps on the ground. (He hasn't caught on to the purpose of watering can - for watering plants.) Then he wants you to refill it immediately so he can dump it again. We have a few buckets and shovels we bring with us to the park, because he's just as happy digging in the sand around the play structures as he is playing on them. If you fill those buckets with water, he'll contently scoop water from one bucket to the next or onto the ground. After a friend said she lets her son "paint" the sidewalk with water, Chris picked up a couple of cheap brushes from the hardware store, and sure enough, "painting" has been a hit for Oliver too.

Oliver got to try painting with real paints after I bought him finger paints. Summer is a great time for such a messy activity because we strapped him into his booster seat in just his diaper, and when he was finished, I plopped him directly in the bathtub and Chris went outside to hose down the booster seat.

His favorite art activity is still drawing with markers or these special paint brush pens (just giant felt-tip markers with extra watery ink). He initially was really into the crayons, but I think the markers give him more immediate gratification since he can touch them to a piece of paper and get a vibrant splash of color with less effort than the crayons. Seriously. I'm happy he's getting into an activity that he can do sitting at a table indoors, (finally gives us a rainy day option) but he needs a lot more supervision. We never know when he's going to try to draw on himself or the furniture.

All this outdoor playtime and drawing (on himself) means a bath nearly every night. Oliver had been taking baths literally once every week or even two until his hair grew long enough by this spring that trying to wipe him down after meal time didn't suffice anymore. Now I can't imagine putting a kid to bed covered in sweat, chalk, dirt and an application of sunblock or two. Luckily he's past his fear/distaste for the bath.

Teeth brushing is finally become a bit more tolerable. He wailed as hard as he did at the dentist when I tried brushing his teeth with the new electric toothbrush, and I considered it good progress when he only cried instead of screamed bloody murder. He still cries a little when I brush his teeth, but he otherwise reaches for the toothbrush any time he has a chance to climb up on the stool by the bathroom sink.

I'm trying to savor the cuteness for now, since I know the phase of screaming "No!" to everything could literally be days away, but Oliver has the habit of answering yes (sounds like "yeah") to a lot. It makes him sound very agreeable. Actually, he interjects with "yes" even when not asked a question. I'm still having one-sided conversations with him, but he routinely says "yes" after each statement I make. It's like he's really following the conversation and it appears like he does understand most of what we say to him. Chris tried testing him by purposefully lobbing a bunch of questions at Oliver he knew he'd answer yes to, which he did. Then he asked him something he knew he wouldn't want to do and funny enough, but Oliver answered very matter-of-factly, no.

Oliver still has a typical toddler appetite, which means he'll eat a little of this and that, but not enough in total you think could possible sustain an active child, and what he "likes" and "dislikes" can be unpredictable. But he does love fruit, muffins and any bread-based or chocolately sweets, like cake or brownies. As for peanut butter, where does he fall on the creamy versus chunky divide? I have a sad suspicion he's going to be a chunky peanut butter kid.

When Oliver zeroes in on food he'd like to eat, he's proven to be able to beg better than a Labrador Retriever. (And he's got those big brown eyes to boot.) At a Fourth of July barbecue, he begged a homemade brownie literally out of the mouth of a friend. My friend was about to take a second bite, but couldn't resist Oliver's out-stretched arms and pleading looks, and suddenly forked the brownie over. What a softie! When Oliver wasn't having any success begging from anyone else, (I encouraged everyone to tell him no since we're trying to teach Oliver that what's on other people's plates isn't for him to eat) he made a beeline back to my friend, who would have probably caved on another brownie if I didn't finally step in and steer Oliver away and offer him a distraction.