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Renegades – 2021 Derby Mix

Posted on July 6, 2005 by Tim

No longer "Baby" Elliott

Happy birthday, Elliott!

Happy first birthday, little shoe-wearing boy!

Happy number one, Mr. No Nappy!

Go, Little E, it’s your birthday!

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Previous PostPrevious Now I can exhale.

Next PostNext Hello. My name is Beth and I have a blogging problem.

Hi, Beth.

It’s been nearly two months since my last post.

Gasp!

I know, I know. It’s just gotten completely out of control. Sure, posts were sparse early in the summer, but the last 60 days have just been a blur. I’ve been binging on Dooce, Mimi Smartypants, and, my God! Jason Pettus is posting every day at his new blog! Next thing I know, I wake up in a pool of ‘Why aren’t you posting anymore?’ emails in the middle of August. OK, it was really just my mother-in-law asking.

… and scene!

Um, so, sorry about my prolonged silence. Guess I was on a bit of a break from ye olde blogge here. Seeing as how it’s been four years of inane blathering, I guess that I was due.

Lessee, what’s been happening… Oh! Elliott turned one in July. That was pretty big. Then, two days later, he had a Thomas train in each hand, rendering crawling too much of an inconvenience, so he walked across the room. And he hasn’t looked back! Hooray! My son is walking erect like the excellent homo sapiens that he is!

He’s also saying a couple of words, which always completely blows me away, because I don’t remember Auggie saying much more than “mama”Â and “dada”Â at this age. So when he pipes up with “thank you”Â (more like “chee-choo”Â) or “bye-bye”Â (“ba ba”Â) and even Auggie (“ghee”Â), I’m surprised anew every time.

And now August is four. Wow. Four. That is a number that sucker punched me when I first let it sink in. So what is four like? Um, let’s see if I can sum up Auggie at four:
Backpacks
Underwear
Mostly wiping his own bottom
Able to select things from the fridge on his own and consume said things without my knowledge
Middle of the night trips to the potty
Still little enough to say, ‘Mommy, I love you,’ without a hint of self-consciousness
Big enough to say in exasperation, ‘Mommy! I know everything!’ also without a hint of self-consciousness
Able to undo his own seatbelt and open the car door
Diesel trains!
So close to reading, but not at all interested in writing
Repeats himself over and over and over until he receives some sort of acknowledgement that yes, you hear that his doggies are going to bed.

So that’s that. More soon. Probably.

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Mimi Smartypants I feel honored to have drank in the same bar as her
Pop Narcotic Sure, he won’t return phone calls and disappears for months at a time, but he’s still a great friend!
the jane gang Alana’s godmama branching out to touch the internet with her warmth and humor.

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