Sunday thumb-twiddling

Grandma and Grandpa O'Neal are driving out to see us today all the way from Indianapolis, meaning we needed to do some serious hanging out around the house to make our filth easier for others to wallow in. Isaac helped out as best he could, vacuuming and (maybe) picking up his toys. He also refused to eat almost everything all day and threw his food on the kitchen floor, drawing Mama's attention to the sweeping that needed to be done there. What a helper, that little man o' mine.

But perhaps his greatest talent is finding those items that we had tucked away in corners (procrastinating finding them a real home) and bringing them out in the open to be dealt with. This happens not just on cleaning days. Today he found Dada's trekking pole and even put on a demonstration for us, hiking across our dirt-strewn living room rug:


I swear upon my unborn baby's life that the rug was vacuumed immediately after this picture was taken.

As part of the food boycott, Isaac discovered the joy of spearing those dangerously tart apples at dinner. You know, instead of eating them. There was much screaming when Mama would cut up the apple in any way to make it easier to consume; there was the fishing of little pieces out of his mouth when he would dare to bite into the big thing himself. But oh, the minutes and minutes of fun he had stabbing that ferocious apple with his fork and then waving his new kill aloft with much glee: