This was bound to happen

Owen has decided that in addition to his given name, he should have a "cat" name, for all those times when he is pretending to be a cat.

His chosen name is "Pussy."

And while that would no doubt increase the number of hits this web site gets via Google searches, I'm trying to talk him into "Patches."

So far he's sticking to his guns.

Calling Agent Mulder

A startling development in the Stinson household. A few nights ago, Owen was in his room and Abby crawled in after him. Sue, knowing that a crisis was at hand, went in to fish Abby out and leave her brother alone.

Owen then insisted that Sue leave Abby in his room.

Because "he loves it when she plays in his room."

And he "loves it when she watches him play."

And he encourages her to climb on his bed. (!)

Hello? Owen? Owen Stinson?

We have tried everything over Abby's 11-month life to convince Owen that she really isn't so bad. We have tried the carrot, and the stick. Even the carrot-y stick. None of it has worked.

And now, suddenly, he likes it when she's on his bed?

There's a good chance our son has been abducted by aliens. And replaced with this close-but-not-quite-fake.

We're onto you, "Owen."

Testing, testing

Maybe this will work, or maybe it won't. My technical brilliance is limited. Alhough, this is supposed to be idiot-proof, so maybe that counterbalances it.

If it works, the video below will show Abby on Christmas morning.

A fragile peace

Slowly, ever so slowly, Owen has begun to deal with the continued presence of his sister. Perhaps it's because after months of lobbying he has realized that Sue and I are pretty resolute on this one: the baby stays.
Why, only yesterday he gave Abby a checkup with his little pretend doctor's kit.
And even more surprising, he did not, upon finishing the checkup, announce that Abby was beyond curing and would have to be put down.

Conversations with Owen, Vol. 1, Iss. X

Owen and I were in the car, and Owen was doing his normal thing, which is to ramble on about anything that comes to mind.

Owen: "Daddy, did you know that Aunt Tara got me a Tonka video game that stays at her house?"
Me: "Wow. It's a game that you play on the computer?"
Owen: "Yeah! A Tonka game. And I play it when I go there."
Me: "That's cool."
Owen: 'Thanks, Dad. Thanks for saying that."
Me: "No problem."

Pucky, we hardly knew ye

I'm not sure exactly when, but at some point when Owen was a baby he grew quite fond of a little stuffed blue dog. It lived in his crib, and Owen would often drift off to sleep while playing with the dog's ribbon or rubbing it against his face.

When Owen learned to talk, he named the dog Blue Puppy, which came out of his mouth as Blue Pucky and eventually just Pucky. This was convenient because the dog was really no longer blue and had faded to a mottled grey.

Pucky has been through a lot, as the photos attest. When Owen was in daycare as a one-year-old, Pucky went with. This meant Pucky often was dragged, literally, through the mud as Owen and his fellow charges travelled about the neighbourhood. Owen was also pretty aggressive about snuggling Pucky in his bed, so the thing has eroded to the point that it is really not recognizable as a dog.

But these are sad times for Pucky. Owen's interest in cats is, as has been mentioned before, a bit nutty, and he now likes to carry them back and forth from his bed to the family-room couch. Sometimes Pucky is brought along, sometimes not. And recently, when Owen's friend Justin slept over, Owen put all of his stuffed animals in Justin's bed. Including Pucky.

But not the cats.

Sue was a little teary-eyed on Pucky's behalf.

A delicate procedure

It is exceedingly helpful once a baby has learned to play a role in the feeding process. One of the difficulties of meal times with infants is managing to feed them while also feeding yourself. A person only has so many hands.

Abby has taken on this task with relish. Put something in front of her, and she dives in. There are some drawbacks, however. She is easily excited, and prone to breaking into fits of clapping, which is an issue when one has, say, two fistfuls of mashed potatoes. She also likes to eat so much that she sometimes forgets the chewing part. And when you only have two-and-a-half teeth, chewing requires some focus. And unfortunately, sometimes her aim is not so good. Recently we were all at the table having lunch and Sue realized that Abby had taken a small piece of fajita shell and, missing her mouth, put it in her right nostril. High and wide, in baseball terms. Too much club, if you're a golfer.

Amazingly, she didn't mind when I used tweezers to extract it. Owen would have gone nuts.

Slumber party

Owen is pretty good about going to bed when told. Going to sleep is another matter entirely. He will often spend up to an hour playing in his room, depending on how tired he is. This sometimes means that a tidy room will, by the time he has passed out, appear as though it has been struck by a significant weather event.

In other instances there is method to his madness. He will suddenly be overcome by the need to, for example, line up all of his Hot Wheels cars. So we'll go in to check on him and find that he is sound asleep, and there is a line of 30 wee little cars in the middle of the floor, as though they are awaiting inspection.

And sometimes he will elect to bring certain toys into bed with them. Recently this included all of his Rescue Heroes, and a handful of large vehicles. These are not soft items, and yet he managed to go to sleep next to them.

Notice in the photo that his cats remain out of the fray. And, yes, that is a small tent that is shaped like a cat, is in fact intended for cats, and Owen often treats it like it IS a cat. So it is also in bed with him too.