President=Present in Max's world

During the inauguration coverage this morning on TV, I said to Max, "This is your new president!"

Max, as any two-year-old, does not know what a president is.  He figures it sounds close enough to one of his favorite words: present!!!!  So he pops his new baya (pacifier) out of his mouth, holds it up proudly and exclaims with wide eyes, "New present!"

I'm not sure who was more excited: me about our new president or Max about his new baya. Actually, Max's elation was definitely more apparent.  Sorry Obama.  I've never been overly expressive.

Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa Morse

I can never remember the order in which I need to upload photos so that they end up in chronological order when reading the blog.  Since I can upload as many as five at a time, I only realize after I've uploaded ten whether or not I've chosen the right order.  Therefore, the first ten photos in this entry should be switched with the second ten if you care, dear reader, about chronology.  If you just enjoy seeing the pictures, then read on!

Christmas Eve on Bribie Island

(we go to the "surf side" of the island)

Grandpa created this game for Max.  Max goes to the ocean, fills his bucket with water, walks back to Mommy and Daddy, then pours the water on us.  As you can see, he really likes the game.

A view of the game inclusive of the innocent victims 

and the mean grandpa

Grandpa suggested that we get our picture taken by the beach report sign because it says "Merry Christmas" amongst all of the other information.  Cute idea but a little hard to read.

Helping Max body board

Setting out cookies and milk for Santa (while watching Rudolph)

Opening presents Christmas morning

Helping grandpa (and everyone else) open presents

Watching Mommy make sticky buns Christmas morning

Grandpa's new authentic Aussie bush hat (the corks keep the flies away)

Happy with grandpa's playdough train

Grandma and Grandpa started the tradition of night swimming.  The pools look especially inviting because the pool lights turn the water a bright blue.  While swimming, we also watch for flying foxes (large fruit bats) that fly towards the river at this time of night.  The downside is that, for me and Tim, the pool temperature is not very inviting once the sun sets.

I'm certain there is a picture of Tim as a two-year-old that is identical to this shot (Tim says Max looks like Jim here).

After a bit of preparatory coaching by Mom to avoid tears on Santa's lap, Max climbed on Santa's knee and promptly said, "I want presents" before Santa had a chance to say anything.  A case of over-coaching?

Swimming at Streets Beach in Brisbane's South Bank Parklands

Taking a cuddle/cracker break

Max loves sharing salads in our big metal bowl.  Grandma and Grandpa warmed to the idea quickly since they are big salad eaters.  Plus, Grandma chops more ingredients for their salads so Max was exposed to a healthier salad than our standard chicken caesar.  Max still thinks salad MUST have chicken in it.

Riding the Christmas train before seeing Santa

Santa came to Tiny Tots.  I told Max about it two weeks ahead of time (for some crazy reason that I don't recall) so there was a lot of talk about Santa and a present and Tiny Tots before the big day arrived.  As soon as Santa came into the room, Max was beside himself.  He stood in front of Santa the whole time waiting for his present.  Because we were one of the first people to arrive, his present was at the bottom of Santa's bag and the poor kid had to wait for 45-50 other kids.  So 45-50 times, a name was called, a parent coaxed a child to approach Santa, Santa coaxed the child to take the present, and a photographer tried to get a picture of the child with Santa.  Did I say that happened 45-50 times?  Do you realize how long that sequence of events is when repeated 45-50 times?  I thought Max would have a meltdown before his name was finally called.  I was wrong.  The poor kid waited patiently, within 10 feet of Santa, until his name was called.  Unfortunately, Max wasn't overly excited about the book Santa gave him (at least at the time)--I found it abandoned within a minute of Max opening it.

Making a Gingerbread Train

Here's how it goes when you make a gingerbread train with a toddler:

First, to delay assembly, you tell the toddler that it would be nice to save the train for when grandma and grandpa arrive in three weeks (like the toddler would agree to that idea even if the grandparents were due to arrive in three hours).  What if we wait until Daddy comes home?  No.  

Because you don't have the right sugar to make the frosting, you mention the idea of going to the grocery store to buy the icing sugar.  Of course not.  So you make do with regular sugar.  While you make the gluey frosting, the toddler proceeds to unpack the gingerbread pieces from the box and nibble on most of them.  Fine (although you wonder about the ingredients now entering the toddler's body as they came from an item that is packaged loosely in a cardboard box, without any airtight plastic).  You are flexible.  It'll be cute to have a train that has his unique little teeth marks in it.

You try to follow the pictorial instructions, separating out the different shapes to make the engine from the ones to make the coal car.  Since the toddler continues to eat the gingerbread pieces, you don't have the time to distinguish the miniscule difference in size between the rectangles so you just start building.  You realize early on that you really need to hold the pieces in place while the icing hardens (this is either by design or you didn't make the icing thick enough).  You ask the toddler to hold a piece in place. No.  He pulls off the piece and takes another bite. You'll need to do the building yourself.

Meanwhile the toddler has lost interest and begins to play with other things on the table.

  

You finish the engine and ask the toddler to look at what you've constructed, hoping to verify that what you built actually resembles a train.  The toddler says, "train."  You are happy.

You move onto the coal car.  You realize that the engine didn't quite fit on its base b/c you used the wrong gingerbread piece for the base.  You will have a train with a small engine and a big coal car.  Then, as you build the coal car, you find that it isn't squared properly b/c you used the wrong pieces when building the sides of the engine.  Nothing additional frosting can't fix.

You decide to engage the toddler in the process again by having him "glue" some of the decorative candies to the train.  In hindsight, you KNOW that a toddler does not have the gentle touch to decorate the train without collapsing the sides so you quickly decorate with the candies yourself (seem to be missing the blue candies).

Finished.  You look at the picture on the cover of the box then look at your train.  You realize that the instructions asked you to make a tube to squeeze out the frosting for gluing and decorating.  While the glops of icing from using your fingers are functional, the train is admittedly not very pretty.  There is no way to decorated the train with icing using your fingers.  Fine.

An hour later, toddler climbs on a chair and pulls the decorative candies off the train.  Eats the  coal out of the coal car.

Two hours later, while you are in the kitchen area of the Great Room (just on the other side of a half wall that separates you from the table on which the gingerbread train rests), the toddler disassembles the rest of the train and eats more.  You decide that you don't want him to have free access to gingerbread cookies for the next week or two.  After chipping the icing off it, you give him one piece of gingerbread.  You toss the rest in the garbage bin.

Daddy didn't get to see the train.  It didn't even last long enough to take a picture of it.

Later the blue candies mysteriously appear on the table.