The Monster Mash

The Boy is a truck walking/pushing machine. Before the day was over, he made about twenty-five laps around the first floor of the house. I was initially concerned he would not be able to manage the wood floors, I thought the truck would roll too fast, but he kept up with it just fine. He just double-timed his zombie walk when the cart started to speed up. He spreads his legs wide and throws them out from the hips; his knees don't seem to bend at all yet when he walks...it reminds me of a zombie walk. So cute. He yammered on as we strolled around and he developed a little routine. Each time we passed the black, shiny refrigerator he had to let go of the truck, put his hands on the fridge and stare at his own distorted reflection, sometimes licking it for good measure. We also had to stop at the staircase so he could point up at the dog on the middle landing and say "Daw!," as I repeated, "Yes, that's the dog, good job!" I am old and The Boy and truck are short...walking around the house hunched over managing the steering wheel became uncomfortable around the, oh, let's say second lap. I ended up attaching a belt to the handle bar so that I could steer a little without cramping up or cramping his style. It worked out well for both of us.

This evening we met daddy at a local Mexican restaurant for a quick dinner. The Boy enjoyed feeding himself the rice. He enjoyed dropping it piece by piece onto the floor even better. We left a generous tip as we exited the building.