You Say Tomato

I know I don't often write about Jake. It's not that he isn't doing amazing things. He runs around the house like he owns it, loves to play 'parking lot' with Matchbox cars just like Sam did, drags around a big bear we've named Manhattan. He's goofy and cuddly. And he has a temper. He is either entering the terrible two's a few months earlier or he is going to be fierce.
I think he will give Sam a run for his money one day very soon.

The time change was not good to Jake (which means it wasn't good to us). He doesn't want to be picked up. He doesn't want to be put down. He doesn't want to eat, but you'd better offer him some food. He wants a bottle to hold but don't make him drink it. He wants to get out of his crib, but don't try to pick him up. In other words, he's an enigma. A screaming, scratching red-faced enigma.

If the timing is right and he gets a snack on the way home, some outside play before dinner and dinner at exactly the right time, he's in good shape. Last night was one of those nights. The planets aligned and we had a good night. If I remember right I actually sat on the couch and read the newspaper while they played, quietly, on the floor.

But before that, while I was getting dinner ready, Jake engaged in one of his favorite activities, playing in the refrigerator. He likes to prop the door open, sit on the bottom shelf and re-arrange the condiments. I have found that this is a lifesaver. I don't care about the energy wasted by propping the door open for an hour at a time. He enjoys it, you can actually fix dinner or put away dishes.

Anyway, last night he got into the veggie drawer and opened a baggie of cherry tomatoes. I knew they would make great toys, squishy, perfect size. But instead, he popped one after the other in his mouth. So there he was eating his tomatoes while I reheated leftovers. It doesn't get much better.

Unless, maybe I could get him to clean the fridge while he's in there.