"Knock tew"

Chocolate cupcakes this year, with hidden ganache centers. Made by your father, who, at the last minute decided to delight you by adding tiny sprinkles from Gram's stash. You turned two on Nantucket, on a cloudy day, and Gram and Mama and Dad sang you the birthday song. And you didn't finish your cupcake of course, but you talked all day long about being two. "Knock," you'd say (using your preferred pronunciation of your nickname), "Knock teeeew. Knock tew." And we nodded and smiled at you and gave you kisses and tried to show you how to hold up two fingers. And you'd hold up all your fingers instead, and just sort of nuzzle two together, Vulcan style. Of this, and the special blue hat I made for you, and your two lit candles, and the stickers you put on your birthday placemat, you were very proud. And we were so very proud of you. Our big two year old boy.

Z farm Xmas

There were many of Grama's famous pies.



And, of course, pysanky.


And Lincoln glammed it up.


And Auntie M wowed 'em.


And Grampa got some tickling done.


Evie got some wrestling in.


And we all felt love, and loved.

it was just like Christmas morning

And this year, he kind of got it!




He unwrapped.



And drummed.



And immediately had to read each and every book.



He tried on his new PJs, whilst chomping on candy canes.


And cooked up something christmas-y.


And served (and then snacked) with his friends.


And we ate strata and bowls of chocolate peanuts, and made a fire, and lounged around and drank coffee (and/or milk), and did crosswords and took a walk around the block and even managed to dance a little bit.

And we stayed in all morning, just our little family, in our robes and slippers until 3pm.

It was a very merry day.

dapper

Ready for the party, in a special shirt and vest from Gram. On our way out the door he insisted on wearing a tie, just like Dada. We have no toddler ties in this house, but John found his old one (from the Sam Park era), and it fit.


And he and his father looked very cute.



Cute enough for cake.



And Christmas Eve.

christmas cookies

older

In honor of his  2nd birthday which is (nearly) upon us: two trains and a kid, (nearly) twelve months apart. January and December, 2011.

big day

He marveled at the squid and the whale at the Museum of Natural History, peed in the potty at a coffe shop in Rockefeller plaza, danced around the big tree, and slept in the stroller while his folks had a sushi dinner. A family day out.

On the "choo choo," underground.

Rather unimpressed by dinosaur bones.

But interested in the dioramas.

(The tiger families in particular.)

Stoic in the presence of the bell ringers in Rockefeller plaza.

But happy on his father's shoulders.

2nd Christmas tree

Trimmed, with more than a little help from Lincoln.

floor puzzle

cupcakes for mama

Made by Dad.



Eaten by a lion.

Dada

For pretty much the extent of the summer and fall, Lincoln has been obsessed with the whereabouts of his father. His early attempts at grammatical utterances have been centered almost entirely around John. Well, around John and trains. Back in July, after a series of morning walks that ended in thrilling encounters with the MTA and goodbyes to Dad, he just came out with it. Suddenly, there it was, his first sort-of sentence:"Dada choo choo" (Dad is on the train). This he repeated and repeated all day all the time in his sleep at school and on the street to total strangers until it drove me slightly insane. That soon became "Dada choo choo there" (Dad is out there on the train, somewhere). And more recently: "Dada OFF choo choo bath" (Dad will get off the train and come home at bathtime). He's got that concept covered, I think. The funny thing is that for awhile there, he would hardly give John the time of day when he was home; it was MAMA! MAMA! MAMA! all the time ad nauseum, even on days when John wasn't on a project. But lately when daddy gets home in the evening Lincoln practically sprints to the door, squealing in delight, with a light in his eyes that makes my heart melt.

His father also makes my heart melt, just generally speaking (see photo).

"bag"

A favorite these days. He calls it his "bag" and won't leave home without it.

stickers and urine

An unlikely pairing, but, at school at least, it works.

 

At home, however, books (his junkie-like habit of late) do the trick.

on the High Line

running around the fountain

Waiting with Dad and Aunt Catherine In Washington Square Park while Mama says goodbye quietly to a kind, and missed, advisor.

favorite toy

Of late, his tools. Handed down to him by some very kind neighbors. He pulls them out whenever we are fixing something, more than happy to try to fix it too. Double hammers? As he says, "knock knock!"

Drive.

Or as he says, "dive".

Where to? I say. "Beach!" he says.  In November? Are you sure you don't want to go to the cinema? "No. Beach. Beach!" The park? "Beach, Mama." Ok, well, put your driving cap on. "Dive, Mama. Diiiiiiive!"

spiked hair, two ways

Undead in 2010, Electrocuted in 2011. He might have to join the living next year, just for variety. 

potty

Shall I post about poop and urine? Well, I'd at least like to note for the historical record that much of those things are going into the toilet lately.

I got Linc a little potty in July because he was announcing arrivals in his diaper on a regular basis and showed some interest in the toilet. It mostly collected dust in a corner though.  He would sit and pee on it every once in awhile.  This last month or so I'll sit him on the child-seat equipped larger toilet a few times a day, and he pees when asked to try. No fuss. "Ahh dun." And since Thursday he's asked to sit on the toilet to poop, and then actually done it. There isn't much forethought about it yet, and he's pretty young of course, but maybe he's on his way? (Knocking firmly on wood.)

electrocuted kid

The power came back on just in time to make his Halloween costume (in the works well before this 3 day blackout) plausible.

Linc + Dad

In the glow of technological progress.

Big, tonight:

bed


bear


boy.