Smells Like JoJo

Romi Amiel Gludt may still be my baby, but he's no baby. Yep, our little guy is four. FOUR. How in the world did that happen? He has been very excited about his birthday and has made it clear that he would like a celebratory hat. He also wants people to sing to him. And he wants presents. Last night we had this conversation:

Romi: Me have an idea. You drive me to Target. I go by myself and get a present.

Ima: How will you pay for it?

Romi: Me take your wallet. After some serious contemplation: Huh. No one to pick me up. Me talk to Abba about that.

I love a kid with a plan!

Romi has been loving all the company we've had the last month. He had a blast when the Brunks came for a long weekend (they drove 15 hours from Chicago!). We love the Brunks and Romi took to them immediately. They walked in and he grabbed his guitar to serenade their arrival. He followed Max and Lauren around the house and the Brunk kids did their parents proud by playing so nicely with our little guy. We spent the day at the Inner Harbor and when Romi needed to navigate down the steep ladder he immediately spurned my offer for help, exclaimed, "No, Bob!" and turned and held his arms out to him. Later, in the aquarium, Romi grabbed on to a nice, friendly and understanding blond women who turned out not to be Jacki. It didn't faze the Romster at all, he just looked at me and requested, "Show me my Jacki." So I did.

Now he's loving the Dindsale crew who are staying in the basement. He gleefully wakes up Mark and Nathalie and each morning waits impatiently for Grandma Virginia to get up and play with him.

One more tidbit: In the pre-Passover bread-arama, Steven, Romi and I went out for a fabulous meal at the Cheesecake Factory. It was seriously some of the best salmon and rice I have ever had (with miso sauce). Of course, salmon is one of Romi's favorite foods so we split the meal. Afterwards we explored the really large mall for the first time. Making our way back to the parking lot through Macy's, the three of us were cutting through the cosmetics department when Romi looked around, sniffed and declared, "Smells like Aunt JoJo!" Priceless!

What's in a Waffle?

For a kid who doesn't want to go to a birthday party, Romi is awfully excited about turning four. He knows that his birthday is April 11th and that he's up next for a celebration. And while he doesn't have many plans for commemorating the actual day, he does have some grandiose ideas about what will happen when he reaches the big four. He even asked me the other day if he could drive when he was four. When I told him he'd have to wait until he was much older, he shot back, "Like eight?"

I'm beginning to think we need to expand his horizons a bit, but Romi is still passionate about airplanes, playing his guitar, swimming and cooking. The other morning when I asked what he wanted for first breakfast (there can be up to three) he requested waffles. Where he learned about waffles is a complete mystery seeing as I didn't even recall if we had schlepped the waffle iron with us to Maryland. We went on a hunt for the little-used appliance, finally locating it on a top shelf in a dark corner. To be honest, I wasn't even sure it would work (especially after I recalled it had been a wedding shower present 20-plus years ago). We plugged it in and after a short wait the little orange light went on--waffle iron success! Next we headed to the fridge to get started on batter. Unfortunately, that's when I discovered that Rob must have used up the last of the Bisquick. No matter, I thought, how complex could waffles be?

Waffle batter takes a bit more work than I expected. The particular recipe I alighted on instructed me to melt the butter, separate the eggs, beat the whites. It wasn't as labor-intensive as souffle, but it certainly wasn't a one-step process either. We persevered, made beautiful waffles and enjoyed a lovely breakfast. The odd part was that while the waffles were perfectly tasty, I missed the old-style Bisquick batch. I pointed this out to Romi and asked (rhetorically), "Where's the irony?" I never expected a response, but I certainly appreciated it when Romi lifted his arm, gestured to the kitchen counter and declared, "There it is" all the while pointing at the waffle iron.

I love this kid.

Me, Me, Me

I realized the other day that we live in Baltimore. I know, it doesn’t come as a shock to the rest of you, but it actually took me a bit by surprise. A part of me (and not even a small one) keeps wondering when we’re going home. Romi misses Tucson too. More often than not he picks a pre-bed book with Tucson photos. He talks about our family and friends, our old house and his old school, the synagogue. It’s amazing how much he remembers. That being said, our little guy has adjusted quite well. He loves his new school and his teachers, seems perfectly happy in the new house and thinks that having his very own Steven living in the basement is the best thing, well, ever.

Romi’s airplane obsession remains unabated. We’ve visited the truly beautiful observation deck at BWI numerous times, his airplane collection can never be large enough (for him) and we’ve even schlepped to DC to see Concorde. When he flies his planes (most often a MD-80 or Boeing 747) the destination is either Tucson or Taiwan, with a bit of Charlotte to visit Aunt JoJo thrown in for good measure. He acts the part of the air traffic controller (complete with pretend voice) and loves when his planes hit turbulence. And of course, the kid is still outsmarting his parents. When I asked if he wanted to take the bus, go to the airport or visit the zoo, he gave it some thought before replying, “Take the bus to the airport.”

He is growing up way too fast. The other day he calmly reported his future plans to Steven and I as he sat in the car seat: “When me get older me going to be a teacher, not a swim teacher, a regular teacher, but me have a big problem. Me can’t read.” And then there was this wonderful proposal: “When me get older me going to be a fireman so me can help people.” And then it got scary: “When me get older, me cross the street by myself, go to a kids’ movie, play angry birds and wear Thomas tzitzit.” I would have freaked out but I figure if he can’t use pronouns he can’t play video games.

We are working hard on saying “I” instead of me following this conversation:

Romi: Me have no dump truck.
Ima; Romi, I don’t have a dump truck.
Romi (with sympathy): Me don’t have one either.

Of course, this led to the conversational gemstone, “Me trying to say I!”

And the one that had Steven and I desperately trying not to react: “Abba in Texas. That sucks.”

Greetings from Baltimore!

Greetings from Baltimore! I apologize both for the mass e-mail and if you haven't heard from us; moving is a bit overwhelming. Also, we don't have internet yet (Gary, don't look so mortified), but we are making do.

Here's a recap of what's been going on: Romi and I had an uneventful but loooooong drive to CA, the horrors of which we quickly forgot in the excitement of seeing everyone. We received amazing hospitality (thank you again Austin for so kindly giving up your bed). We played and ate with Gludts, Dinsdales, Bermans, and a slew of Shiffletts. We took a few meals outside while we could and appreciated a last long look at the “correct” ocean.

As Romi and I visited and enjoyed loved ones' company, Rob, Joel and Penny made great time across the country (even if if did take them forever to cross Texas). They drove 2300 miles with only one speeding ticket and are still friends...a miracle! Romi and I flew to MD on a direct flight out of LAX. Once again, he was an amazing traveler. We jumped in our rental car and relied on the GPS (not easy for me) to get us to Daniel and Miriam's, who made us feel welcome as we once again invaded their home. On Tuesday we picked up the keys to our new home, did some shopping and spent a truly lovely afternoon with our Chuckle Cousin, who so lovingly fought traffic both ways from DC to make sure we weren't lonely on our first day (a real act of loving kindness Suzanne!). Rob, Penny and Joel arrived Wednesday morning, and our belongings came by in a big old moving truck shortly after that. Once Joel got the lock squared away, we headed downtown to Fells Point for lunch and a bit of sight seeing. We spent the first night in our new home with pilfered blankets and pillows on a variety of air mattresses. A bit like camping, but at least we were home!

We may be living amid a myriad of boxes, but we love our new house and are settling in. The house here is completely different from our home in Tucson, yet we fit in the space well (even the kitchen). The move went fairly well (Kim, we had very little breakage and all of the china made it!). The basement has proved to be the biggest challenge: nothing fits down the stairs. And by nothing, I mean nothing. We couldn't get the mattress, dressers, washer or dryer down there, so we are working on a new game plan (mainly involving Ikea furniture which can be constructed down there). As a result, Romi has inherited the queen mattress, which is quite a bit of space for someone three-feet tall. (Not that it matters anyway, since he's still sleeping in our bed.) After way too much hard driving and even harder work, on Friday Joel headed safely home to Hallie while Jodi and Steven headed up to help us (the five hour drive took 10 hours, poor things). Romi is in heaven with his Aunt JoJo and cousins to play with while Rob and I scramble around, trying to make our home habitable before he leaves tomorrow for Texas. Romi and I have great plans for next week, including visiting his new school, taking the train to DC, and unpacking more boxes. He's holding up well, although he misses Tucson and everyone and everything in it (as do we).

We hope everything is well with all of you. Call, write, e-mail...we miss everyone!

Much love,

Kelley

507 East Lake Ave.

Baltimore MD 21212

What Romi Likes

Romi likes playing his guitar with a pick and a capo (OK, it's really a clothespin, but it works), finding photos and drawings of Asian children in books (he always calls them Romi), asking the name of everything (literally everything, from food to engines), airplanes (he can identify quite a few by the salient details, including engine location, the type of tail and if it has winglets), and swimming. Over the past few months he has been found sleeping all over the house, albeit mostly in our bed, although he has made special appearances on the floor of the guest room when Aunt JoJo was staying there and with Penny in her bed. (We figured that one out when he smelled like cedar chips. When asked why he slept on the dog's bed, he replied, "Comfortable." Hard to argue with logic like that.) He likes dancing in the monsoon with his umbrella (thanks Sharon!) and our full attention--he recently admonished Rob, "No reading!" and promptly confiscated his newspaper and put it in the sunroom.

Romi also likes his birthday. He had a wonderful time, especially when his music teacher sang to him at school. It's been three months and he still talks about it. He loved his party at Pump-It-Up (0nce he warmed up to the experience). He was a bit like his Aunt Heather that day, running into our room and finding me in bed announcing, "Wake up Ima! My birthday!"

Our little man likes to say, "I don't like it," "I have a question" and "Ima tell." He never tires of hearing the same stories, including the branch breaking at the school, the two-day sprinkler marathon and how the Airbus 380 scraped a wing at the Paris airshow. He likes the fact that he's potty trained, although lately he asks for help when he needs to go, only to ask us to leave when we actually get to the bathroom. (Gone are the days when I asked if he needed help as he ran by and he replied, "No, I got it!)

But what Romi likes above all else is his Aunt JoJo. He was lucky to get two recent visits, one in May and one in July. He is not alone in thinking she is one of the funniest people on the face of the planet. When she is here, he not so gently or kindly asks Ima and Abba to go away. We've seen him run to get something only to return to the guest room, throw open the door, and announce to his beloved Auntie, "I'm back!" For her, Romi will wear tags in his clothes, put lotion on his body and tolerate mouse in his hair.

Romi's favorite child at school is baby Zachary, so called because he is the youngest of all the students. He isn't in Romi's class, but they get to see each other throughout the day. I have come to pick Romi up to find him sitting by his friend's mat (Zachary stays for nap), patting his back to put him to sleep. One day, Romi and baby Zachary where on the playground, standing on the bridge connecting two pieces of play equipment. Another child pushed baby Zachary, who headed for the edge. While not a huge fall, the height is significant enough. Romi, however, was not going to let anything happen to his best bud and threw himself on top of baby Zachary, preventing him from falling. Romi stayed there until a teacher, who saw the whole incident, managed to get to them. He's his father's son!

Lest you think our little fella has no mischievous side, never fear, he would also make his grandmother proud. We let Romi roam naked through the house and backyard. (He has to have on clothes to go out front or when we eat.) This drives Papa nuts, a tidbit which Romi picked up on. One night, when Nana and Papa arrived to visit, a clothed Romi ran to greet them, immediately stripped down and proudly announced, "Papa, I'm naked!" Go Romi!

The Score: Ima and Abba = 72, Romi = 54,987

We have a real problem: Romi is, hands down and without a doubt, winning and the kicker is we just don't care. He is so cute and fun and funny and sweet and amazing, that we cave way too often. Our friends tell us that we will all grow out of it, which is good, but at the same time sad because today I realized today that if he goes off to college at the age of 18, than we've already had Romi for one-sixth of the time he will live with us. This sort of thinking isn't helping to fortify resilience to the Romster.

The most astonishing thing about our Little Man is how much his vocabulary has increased in the last two months. Romi has always been a toddler of few words, but he worked hard to make the best of his repertoire. Lately, new and mind-boggling words are falling out of his mouth daily. He has used correctly and in context such gems as "blinking," "stripes" and "trade." His favorite question used to be "What's this?" which he asked ad nauseam. That has morphed into "What you doing?" His articulation is pretty darn good, although he does say "told" for "cold." He also doesn't use the word small, but prefers to call anything little "baby," as in baby bus, baby bowl and baby dog. When he wants to claim something he makes sure we know it is his by his emphatic "me's!" He still refers to M&Ms as "blues" and calls Penny just "dog," and yes, I am still most stubbornly "mommy" even though he points at me if you ask him who Ima is. He understands certain concepts, like "broken" and even recently switched his vegetable-laden dinner plate for Rob's plate full of french fries with the command, "Abba--trade!" And the other night we figured out that Romi wanted to head out to a restaurant for dinner and not just stay at home when he looked at us and exclaimed, "eat bye-bye!"


Romi has the annoying but sweet habit of asking us if we're happy precisely when he know swe're upset with him (like after he takes a swipe at us--something we do can and do resist). Sometimes he even makes a list to check to see who is happy. It often goes like this, with a cute little lilt at the end of the sentence: "Happy Mommy? Happy Abba? Happy dog?" JoJo has made the list, as has Max, Michael Hoffman and Mike Harris. One night the list even got longer, like this: "Happy Mommy? Happy Abba? Happy dog? Happy Nana? Happy Papa? Happy Nana dog?" I reassured the little guy that Rusty, Nana's dog, is indeed happy.

The cardinal rule in the house of late is that Romi gets to turn on the washer and dryer and clean out the lint screen. You can ignore this injunction at your own risk. He still sings and dances (he does one damn cute Hokie Pokie) about the house, but his true love remains the guitar. He has moved up from the ukulele to a small guitar that used to belong to my sister. He gives her her due and calls it "JoJo 'tar." He insists on using a pick, the neck strap and my recipe books that are spiral bound for music. His favorite songs are "Happy new," "two eight," "bim bom" and "Trees are blowing in the wind." The last one comes complete with hand motions and the "woosh" sound at the end.

A final word on yet again why babies could not live in the wild: we were going into school the other day and to draw attention to the Scholastic Book Fair going on inside one of the dads dressed up in a seven-foot Clifford the Red Dog costume. I was convinced that Romi would freak. The guy was huge and red and a dog and Romi has no concept about this character that was waving so vigorously and energetically at him. I was wrong in my assumptions, however, and Romi didn't even flinch when the large hairy red thing reached for him. Unfortunately, that was also the moment the mailman drove up in his truck, which completely terrifies my Hamster and he proceeded to freak out. Like I said, no survival skills...none at all.

Luggageless in Seattle

Our vacation to Seattle began as all such trips tend to do: a hurried and harried scramble to do laundry, pack as few as bags possible under 50 pounds and empty the fridge. The night before we left we overcome annoying but far from surmountable obstacles: Walgreen's not having a prescription, not discovering the pepperoni on our pizza until Rob got home, and Delta changing our flight from 8:40 a.m. to 8:15 a.m. without notifying us. But when all was said in done, we made the first plane and Romi, not the best traveler in the world, made it OK to Salt Lake City, where we had to pretty much walk outside for half a mile in the snow to get to the terminal, which wouldn't have been a big deal if we had our coats. Romi completely melted down on take off, to the point that the flight attendant told us we could go ahead and pick him up, which worked out great since he instantly fell asleep and slept the whole flight.

We landed in Seattle and headed for the barrage carousel, only to be cruelly disappointed when all we got was the car seat and not the two bags we had so meticulously packed. We filed the paperwork and headed off for the rental car van. Unfortunately, it is cold in Seattle and our coats were packed in our missing bags. We waited and waited and waited for the van, jumping around to keep warm. When the rental car van finally arrived, the door was broken so we had to ride there with the lovely 40-degree breeze swirling around. We eventually located the car, loaded up the car seat and headed out to meet our family at Claim Jumper, where they had graciously ordered us food so we would have hot sustenance waiting.

After a satisfying meal, we borrowed jackets and headed "home." Our rental bungalow is in a great neighborhood--Maddison Park. It's a suburban oasis minutes from downtown. Unfortunately, when we found the house, we also found it locked. Luckily, we got a hold of Inge in short order and didn't have to resort to breaking in. The house is two stories with hardwood floors. The kitchen is tiny and there are two bathrooms. It has a fancy washer and dryer and a great deck and yard if it would ever stop raining. We headed out for a mondo-largo grocery trip to Trader Joe's and Safeway, where we bought not only staples but anything that struck our vacation fancy. We lounged and relaxed and enjoyed one another's company before settling into the various beds, some of us in borrowed pajamas seeing as our luggage still had not arrived by 10:00 p.m.

The next morning came early. The house is cute and comfortable but it definitely is not soundproof. Any noise, from scraping a chair to opening the dishwasher, rings through the house like a steam train. I missed my clothes but I missed my earplugs even more. I emphatically told Rob that my Friday morning sleep-in did not count. I persevered with my special day, however, wishing for nothing more than clean underwear. We wouldn't have been so desperate for the luggage if we could have reached someone--anyone--at Delta. The baggage line, reservation line and bag delivery carrier all went straight to busy, at all hours. At 10:00 a.m., when the bags were 15 hours over due from the latest they said they would be delivered, Rob and David headed out to the airport. We knew as soon as they did the bags would come, but we also knew if they didn't try the bags would remain lost forever. True to form, just as they pulled into the airport parking garage there was a knock on the door. I spent the next hour happily unpacking, showering and changing into my very own clean clothes....hurray!

The remainder of my birthday morning was spent cooking for Shabbat. We broke for lunch and all headed to Cactus, the southwest-style restaurant that Inge had without irony recommended. Alas, it was closed for the holiday and we ended up at a Thai restaurant that I liked well enough but mom would have loved. We headed home and I had a scrumptious Shabbat/Birthday dinner of salad, Rob challah, Mac'n'Cheese ala Morgan and Hutterite pie.

Christmas day we relaxed and ate and played and ate and took walks and ate. It was nice to be together, although the kids got a bit stir crazy on the most boring day ever to be a Jew. Our house is right by the water and the views were stunning. We took a driving tour through downtown and go the lay of the land. Jo-Jo and Morgan diligently and relentlessly looked for a restaurant open on December 25th for dinner. After trying every Asian permutation they could come up with we ended up at a superior Indian cafe where we consumed even more food. Everyone loved the meal.

Sunday dawned and so did our determination to get out and see the city. We got up, ate yet again, got dressed and headed out. Most of us even realized we should bundle up. We found parking by the water and headed to Pike Place Market. We loved it. There was so much to see, from the original Starbucks (no, i didn't have coffee, instead I enjoyed a hot sea salt and caramel hot chocolate) to the gorgeous fruits and veggies, to the tastings of olive and vinegar. We ate lunch at the Pike Pub, enjoying a much-needed respite from the cold with air-fried fish and chips. Romi needed to crash so Rob, Gabi, David and the munchkin headed home to rest while Morgan, Steven (sans jacket), Jo-Jo (also sans jacket, like mother like son) and I fell in love with Beecher's, the homemade cheese store and hoofed it to the over-rated Macrinia Bakery. We were happy to play in the city but cold doesn't even describe it. Luckily, David came and rescued us.

Romi enjoyed the sites but he enjoyed his family even more. His cousins will go to any length to make him happy, including making up a variety of games (flying pillow, couch-bus number 8 with coins for keys, etc.). His power over these people is amazing. He can convince them to pretend to sleep when he turns the light off so that when he turns it on they all jump up singing and dancing. I can't decide what I enjoy watching more, his pure joy or their antics. He especially has his best playmate Steven wrapped around his finger, although he pulled "the lip" on his aunt and she totally caved. His favorite toy in the house is the "baby broom," although he has made quite a game out of having his teenagers swing him in a sheet. His cousins have also taught him how to use an iPod.

Sunday night we made dinner from our day's worth of hunting. We had a yummy ciabatta-type bread with parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme (feel free to sing), Kosher salt and olive oil with Beecher's Flagshhip cheese. Then we ate fresh rosemary-garlic pasta with nothing but olive oil and Parmesan. The broccoli was perfectly tender and tasty dressed with nothing but lemon. And the main course: salmon from Pike's. It was an incredible meal.

On Monday, Steven, Rob, Romi and I enjoyed the Seattle Aquarium, especially the touch pools and dome room (remember you promised to build me one Steven!). We met up with David, Jo-Jo and Morgan and had a truly lovely lunch on the water at the famous Elliot's Oyster Bar. The rosemary bread was amazing. The Gludts headed home to nap while the Salomon's explored Pioneer Square. They skipped the underground tour but found the best toy story ever, buying a ball and submarine for Romi, and yummy cookies from the Cow Chip Bakery (they brought us a "bull" cookie which I preceded to eat without informing Rob that half of it was his). I made another Hutterite pie, although I had trouble getting it to set up right. In an effort to get it to gel, I balanced it on the window sill. It made a lovely picture and an even better crash when it fell into the sink. (Of course we ate it anyway.)

We kept busy playing games like Sporcle, learning that the Greek word for bride is nymph (complete with hand motions), Trivial Pursuit (with Morgan using flawed logic to determine that there were far fewer people when Gone with Wind was released so it can't be the top ticket sales of all time) and all sorts of variations on Loose Hair, including Amish-style and Everything Bagel.

Tuesday we headed to the Seattle Center. After spending more than $20 to get into the Children's Museum Rob and I had the realization that Romi was not going to do well. He finds crowded places overwhelming in the best of circumstances and this was not an ideal venture for a new place. We spent about an hour before determining that he was not going to be happy. We called the Salomon's to check on their whereabouts just to learn that they were at the food court by the monorail. We told them to stay put, grabbed the kidlet and headed upstairs to the food court by the monorail. We looked and looked, past crowds and kids and the Winterland display, but couldn't find them anywhere. They aren't easy to miss, so we called them in confusion. Yes, they were in the food court. Yes, they were by the monorail. But where? They were by the escalator. The what?! Once we determined that they were at the other monorail station by the food court we met up. We took Romi on the monorail for a round trip adventure and gave him some lunch. On the way home we swung by a very crowded Pike's Place Market for some of the world's best Mac 'n' Cheese from Beecher's. It lived up to its reputation. Mine didn't even make it home!

After napping with Romi, everyone returned home and we hung out and laughed and sorted through online scanned photos until it was time to go for dinner. We ended up at Cafe Flora, a local vegetarian restaurant that uses local ingredients. The food, while not plentiful, was certainly tasty. After Romi went to bed a bunch of us laughed ourselves silly playing Cranium. It was a lovely evening.

Wednesday, our last day of the trip, came way too soon. We had grandiose plans to finish off our Seattle vacation. We considered the locks, a harbor cruise, taking a ferry, visiting the Fremont district or Brainbridge Island. All of our plans, however, were dashed as we watched the snow flurries start. The snow didn't stick in Madison Park but word on the street was that there was quite a bit of snow in other parts of the city. So instead of braving the elements with a two-year-old and only a four-seater car for the seven of us we stayed close to home.

We began our return trip home at the ungodly hour of 3:30 a.m. Morgan accompanied us to the airport and the extra pair of hands certainly helped. We had to wait for the plane to be de-iced, a first for me. The extra procedure delayed us, but not enough for us to miss our connection in Utah. The stuck jetway did that. We sat on the plane at the gate waiting for a mechanic until the scheduled time for our departure came and went. We then spent SEVEN HOURS in the airport trying to go stand-by to Tucson and keep a 2-year old entertained. We had food vouchers and clothes for the boy and the airport had play areas, but it was all for naught and we ended up sleeping in a hotel without luggage. Delta picked up the tab since it was mechanical, but we still just wanted to be home. Friday morning we headed to the hotel lobby to catch the shuttle and it was a mob scene. There were loads of people trying to get to the airport, one British family with an inordinate amount of luggage (and us without any at all!). As we began to despair of making it to the airport in time to get through security, even without bags, a nice woman and her teenage daughter looked at us, told us they had a rental car and asked it we wanted to jump in the back. We didn't hesitate. We buckled Romi into the backseat and enjoyed an easy trip with two New Yorkers who had been stuck in SLC since that Monday. They even kindly dropped us at the gate!

We made it home safe and sound, albeit tired and grumpy. But it was all worth it. I know, because Romi is still singing "Guitara, guitata, dance, dance, dance!"

My Son, the Rock Star

Romi's newest obsession: his guitar. He plays it frequently throughout the day and lets us know when he wants it by miming a strumming action. He insists on using a pick, which is also one of the words he enunciates best. He plays and strums and picks and sings and rocks out, complete with moves. If his interests as a toddler are any indication of his future career aspirations, we should feel free to spend his college fund!

Of course, playing the guitar is only one outlet for his love of music. The other is the Victrola, and in particular a "Hawaiian"-themed song from the 1930s. He loves this ditty. Of course, it doesn't hurt that Abba also swings him around during the music.

Other than that, Romi is growing and learning and generally just a lot of fun. He dumped an entire bottle of Mr. Bubble in the bath. He got sopping wet in the recent monsoon. He refuse3s to call me Ima ("No! Mommy!" he gleefully shouts). He orders the dog around and she loves him for it. He absolutely adores his new play kitchen and cooks up all sorts of yummy treats for us. His favorite color is purple and his favorite number is eight, although if you ask him how many of anything he always says "two." In fact, when he counts, he says "two...two...two" (with the correct inflection for "one...two...three."

His potty training is pretty much a done deal, although he remembers enough about our desperate bribes to ask every now and then for a reward, which means playing with Talking Tom on our smart phones. It's an app where you can "tickle" (OK, it hits) the cat, give it milk, make it purr, pull its tail and, oh yeah, it repeats everything you say to it back in a freaky voice. What one won't put up with to get rid of diapers! Of course, letting Romi use our whamy fancy-schmancy high-tech phones had an additional downside: he hated the Etch-a-Sketch. Quite simply, it was just too analog for him. He kept swiping the screen and couldn't figure out why nothing was happening--poor guy!

Hide, Hide!

It is absolutely no exaggeration that it is Romi who has gotten the entire family through these past six weeks. He brings with him love and laughter, enjoyment and energy, and is simply the best distraction. As of late, he has taken to tattling on his parents. If either one of us does something he doesn't like, he goes in search of the other parent, points out the offending parental unit and makes a face. He has also figured out that sometimes Ima and Abba need to be talked into what he thinks is simply a fabulous idea. He encourages our consensus in his plans by getting a twinkle in his eye, smiling the most beatific smile ever, and vigorously shaking his head yes. And yes, of course it works.

Romi's most enduring new trick is "hide." When one of us is going after him or he doesn't want to get dressed or simply decides it is not time for a clean diaper, he says "hide, hide" and runs to find someone to pick him up and hold him. He snuggles up, burying his face in your neck and assumes he is safe. Recently, he opened the broom closet to see the vacuum (with which he has a love/hate relationship), yelled "hide," and when he couldn't find someone to hold and hide him, he opened the bottom drawer in the kitchen, bent over and put his head in it. "Hide" has also expanded to protect inanimate objects. A few weeks ago, Rob tried to confiscate a bar of soap from the Romster, who took it and ran off through the house. When he finally found me in the kitchen, with Abba in close pursuit, he yelled "hide" multiple times while simultaneously picking up my shirt and stashing the bar of soap under it. And yes, of course it worked.

Heather always says the force is strong with Romi, which is most obvious in the absolute power he has over his cousins. But every once in a while, he must also use his cutest-baby-in-world wiles to get what he wants. I wasn't feeling well one day and told Rob I was going to return to bed to lie down for a few minutes. Romi, however, had other plans. First he came and asked me to get up (no, he didn't actually say it, but he has ways of making his wants and desires known). When that didn't work, he brought me my glasses. I thanked him, took the glasses, put them on the nightstand and stayed in bed, so Romi took it to the next level and delivered to me my slippers. I explained that I was staying put and closed my eyes, trying to relax. It wasn't long before I felt a gently tugging only to look down as Romi ever so slowly and carefully pulled all the covers off of me and the bed. And yes, of course it worked.

You Did What?!

I admit that Rob and I aren't the most traditional of parents. We let Romi play in the front seat of our cars (supervised, of course), let him eat with a fork and knife since he was one (come on, it's a butter knife...do you know how hard it is to hurt yourself with a butter knife?), gave him nuts before the age of two (a truly punishable offense in this day and age), and let him play with plastic bags.

OK, we don't really let him play with plastic bags, but he did manage to get this one off the kitchen counter and of course we took it away and told him not to play with them, etc. etc. etc., but not before we took that really cute picture.

Romi's vocabulary is definitely expanding, although "no" is still the tried and true favorite word of all time. I tried to get him to say Ima by bribing him and going through the painstaking process of telling him to say "E" and then telling him to say "Ma," which did not result in him calling me Ima, but did teach him to say "Ma!" every time I said "E."

Romi's paralyzing tortoise terror has abated but he still has a healthy fear of the four-inch wide reptiles that roam our backyard. He has taken to carrying around a large oatmeal container, although we have no idea why. (When he wants oatmeal he simply gets out the saucepan.) He dances to most music, eats tomatoes as if they were apples, insists on inserting any and all car keys into a screw hole of his Cozy Coupe and still loves babies and water.

Speaking of water, a Shabbat or two ago, while Abba was schluffing, I got the brilliant idea of filling the water gun and showing him how to use it. He caught on pretty quickly, using his thumb to pull the trigger. His aim was mediocre, but his joy was boundless. All too quickly I got bored of going into the house to fill the squirt gun, so I got the brilliant idea of using the condiment squeeze bottle to fill the squirt gun. Of course, then the Romster wanted the condiment bottle. And when I got tired of running into the house to fill the condiment bottle, I decided to use the hose. I know, I know, I'm a slow learner. As all of you experienced parents know, I ended up soaking wet, with a naked and dripping but very happy baby on my hands. Well worth it!