I have been reading for quite some time now about Jolie, Xan's friend and the primary focus of an amazingly amusing blog which you should all check out. At several points, this event called the World's Strongest Man competition keeps being referenced. I try very hard not to be one of those parents who foists their children into unnecessary competitive streaks that will only lead to me throwing a Coke in someone's face and their beating me to a pulp against a set of bleachers.
It appears, however, that perhaps my son has started reading this blog himself.
Yesterday, before the rain came, we let Xan toddle around the backyard freely while I grilled some dinner and Angela finished making some hot-n-spicy slaw on the back porch table. It is at this point that we discover our accusing the birds of eating all our blackberries has been something of a fallacy.
As you can see, our little boy appears to be mysteriously sneaking out in the evening to eat all the ripe blackberries. Strangely, he seeems to recognzie that only the black ones are good, and that the red ones should be left alone -- but that the opposite is true for the strawberries that are right next to the blackberries.
Obviously, the eating of blackberries is akin to spirulina or guaraná or something like that, because then he decided to scale outdoor furniture as if it were a climbing wall.
We acquired these new lawn chairs from a family friend (along with other lawn furniture, and a couple bookcases -- hooray!!) but had taken off the cushions because it was going to rain. It is, however, quite a good resource to train for World's Strongest Man competition.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that yesterday also included a food-shopping outing with Dad, which had a particular twist at Whole Foods. Because riding in the cart was not an option this time. No, today, Xan decided that he had to push the cart. Himself. Non-stop. And if the cart stopped for whatever reason (hitting a wall, stuck on a cucumber display, Dad stopping the cart before he runs over a septegenarian examining some scallops at the seafood counter, etc.), the loudest, highest-pitched shriek would emerge from this little body. This meant that we had to go back and forth five times (this is not hyperbole) in one aisle just so I could find the black beans, and several times through the register line, just to keep him amused. This continued into the parking lot, where the only thing that finally distracted him from pushing the cart was a large pot of purple flowers. And even that didn't last.
Xan is definitely in training now. While I would still put my money on Joles for squashing my son like a bug, I'm now not so sure he wouldn't go down without a fight.