I'm working on trying to remember to take pictures of Liam to post. Somehow, the evenings have seemed very hectic lately. I have been suffering from an outbreak of hives (going on a week now) and by dinner time really have to take 2 or 3 benadryl to have any prayer of coping well with Liam's bath and bedtime routine. This means that I am pretty foggy most nights and tend to go to sleep early. (This is good, it gives me more time to wake up in the night and be uncomfortable!) Enough with the whining. I will try to get some pictures tomorrow -- Liam is growing again and getting so big it seems he changes every day.
This week and last week's big activity for him has been learning to walk up and down the stairs. He holds the banister with one hand and my hand with the other and stomps up and minces down. He likes to practice. He is also (continuing) with the phase of Bring-At-Least-One-Thing-From-Wherever-I-Am-To-Wherever-I-Am-Going. I read in the child development books that this is all about sorting out object permanence. I accommodate it within reason. Generally at the top (or bottom) of the stairs I am handed: a small truck, a small plastic person, a stuffed animal, a shoe, a large truck, a piece of the train, or Liam's small broom or sweeper. He realizes that he can't carry these things and still practice going down (or up) the stairs, but he is very concerned that whatever it is goes with him. Then, at the top (or bottom) of the stairs, he is delighted to get whatever it is back.
Today he wanted to bring the basketball home from Will's parents'. I said, "basketball stays here, please." Usually this works fine, he might be a little worried for a few minutes, but quickly goes on to the next thing. At home in the mornings, we've even been practicing "get a small thing to bring with you, please" and, in the evenings, "train is not a bath toy, it's a downstairs toy" with good results. He must have been tired or something today, because having to leave the basketball behind just undid him. He talked about it all the way home. Every time I looked back at him he would sign "ball, ball." And all during dinner he kept signing "ball, ball" and saying "Go Go" (grandpa) and "Eeeh" (GG). I thought he was getting over it, but the last thing he said to me before he went to sleep was (sign for) "ball, ball." I told him (again): it will be just where you left it in the morning and you can play with it then. Good grief!