A Day At The Beach

Living with a toddler, I'm guessing, is much similar to living with a teenager.

Both are messy, obsessed with their boy parts, constantly eating or thinking about eating, skilled in the art of back-talking, AND, can go from Sweet to Trouble in a third of a second. Today was filled with all of the above.

Let's see, after pretending to make rock-pretzels, Jacob decided he needed to actually eat the rocks (can't wait to change THAT diaper- although, he may have downed enough saltwater to grind the rock into sand):



Sandy Cheetos were the perfect way to round out that meal:


Later, Jacob found a nice place to drop his pull-ups. But he had some trouble getting them back on:


At the Big-Toy, Jacob decided to show off his amazing sliding skills to his new lady-friend:


He kept racing her to the bottom of the slide and yelling, "I win you! I win you!" Quite the charmer. But really, we all know the little girl's pants were slowing her down. Jacob was free from all that extra fabric.


When he wasn't throwing rocks at me or doing the exact opposite of what I was asking him to do, he showed some streaks of the old Jacob sweetness that I miss.



Plus, it's pretty hard to keep up your reputation as a class-1 trouble maker when you are wearing a big floppy hat.

Hey Batter Batter

Jacob is my little baseball player. He loves to play ball with his dad. And he absolutely cannot play baseball without his new Mariner's hat. Plus, he already has a baseball player's name: "Jacob Palmer."

The problem: I think he inherited my hand-eye coordination. And my batter's stance. And my problems with balance. At least he will never have to learn to walk in heels. And he's got a pretty mean swing (and by "swing" I mean "full-bodied twirl"-- see 0:26).

Note: real baseball players don't need pants.

Snips And Snails

Jacob is two. Almost three. He is your typical toddler boy. He is opinionated. He is adventurous. He is ridiculously cute. He is Trouble.

Today we went an an impromptu morning trip to the park. I packed up our bag and we headed out on a nice walk. Jacob wanted to ride his scooter. For two blocks. Then he wanted me to carry it so he could chase a squirrel.



Then he wanted me to carry his scooter so he could sit on a rock.



Then he wanted me to carry his scooter so he could poke a snail. He quickly lost interest in playing with the snail and insisted that I let him take pictures of the snail instead. Exhibit 1:



15 minutes and 32 photos of Jacob's thumb later, we finally arrived at the park. Little did I know, the snail had also arrived at the park, via a toddler boy's pocket. (Luckily I was spared that discovery until pieces of snail shell tumbled out of his pocket during a potty break.)

Jacob went down the slide just a couple times before he spied some unsuspecting seagulls. No creature is safe, I swear. We chased seagulls all the way to the "ice cream store." That's when Jacob loudly proclaimed that he was "very thirsty" and "could we please get some water at the ice cream store?" I'm certain the entire thing was a ploy so that I would buy him a treat.

As soon as we entered the "ice cream store," Jacob looked up sweetly at me and said, "Can I have a treat?" What did I tell you? Do I know this kid or what?

I looked back down at him and asked, "What's the magic word?"

He thought for a second. His eyes lit up. And he said, "Abra-ca-dabra!"