... pause ...
Nope. That pretty much sums it up.
Now, I know it's not good that our son eats lemons because they are acidic and can damage the enamel on his teeth - but - there is no stopping the child once he sees yellow citrus fruit. Kind of like me with peanut butter ice cream ... or molcajetes.
Speaking of molcajetes ... we returned to our Mexican restaurant, tonight. The place was entirely empty when we arrived and taking a quick inventory of the place, we realized that the waiter that sends our kids in to fits of hysterics had the night off.
This was a good sign.
We took our seats in a booth, placed our order, and started to feast on chips and salsa. The waiter brought Charlie and I glasses of ice water with lemon and before I could stop him, William had sunk his entire arm, almost up to his elbow, in to my glass to dig out the lemon. While he stood on the seat, chewing on the rind, a couple were seated in the booth behind us. I didn't pay much attention to these new patrons, until Charlie started fiercely whispering that the mayor of our city was sitting directly behind me.
Wow, the MAYOR!!
As if on cue, William turned around and leaning over the booth, tried to smack the mayor - in the head - with his spoon. While I was able to thwart his attempt at inflicting injury on the highest ranking political figure in our city ... I wasn't able to stop him from throwing his lemon rind.
Because everyone, including the good-humored mayor, knows that when you are two-years old, your mission in life is to embarrass the daylights out of your parents each and every time they step foot in a restaurant. That's what you do.
Although, I think it would serve the mayor well if he considered eating all of his meals in a bicycle helmet in the off-chance there was a citric loaded toddler laying in wait. It's really quite stylish. And, safe.
********Since I'm not
Carolyn and Elizabeth each took two bites of their popsicles and then handed them over to me. William ate his entire popsicle. He then instantly broke out in goosebumps and started chattering so hard he couldn't stand still. But if you think this temporary loss of body control would dissuade him from finishing off both of his sisters popsicles ... you'd be mistaken. And wouldn't you know - I've never seen him happier. Or shakier.
All it took for his core body temperature to return to normal, was being wrapped tightly in a blanket for the next three hours until his lips turned from blue back to pink.
********While I was away at my business meeting last week - Charlie had made banana muffins for the kids and called to tell me that William polished off six muffins in less than an hour and six more muffins over the next five hours. He then called me back later in the day, before he'd made his trip to Target to pick up more diapers, to inquire if it is normal for a 2-year old boy to poop four times in a day?
I've read that the stomach is the size of a fist. Considering William's hand is no larger than say, a small lemon, it makes perfectly good sense to me that a dozen banana muffins, which are loaded in fiber, would cause several massive evacuations. I'm certain that I've seen a formula somewhere about this ...
Mass in = mass out. Except when: 2 adults - 1 adult (who is away at a conference and cannot assist with making a diaper run) = 1 dozen banana muffins + 1-28 pound boy, the output will > (exceed+1) whatever supply of diapers you have available (in your house + car + diaper bag).
Today, Charlie made more banana muffins - after he made sure that he had plenty of diapers on hand. He called me at work to tell me that when William peered in the oven window and could see what was cooking - he got so excited that he started to wave his hands in the air, run around in circles ... and ... this is the real kicker - bent down and kissed the oven door.
I honestly don't know where he gets his infatuation with food.
It's a mystery.