Overdue report from the Hoes Down Festival:
There were fiddling kids:

Old timey blacksmiths:

Cows:

And best of all, the petting zoo:



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Milestone report: Over the last three days, Jonah has begun climbing stairs. And so I’ve joined that long lineage of parents hunched down behind baby butts with hands out to spot as the little ones grunt, push, scramble, experiment, up up up.
* * *
Many weeks ago, Jonah started shaking his head back and forth. It was somewhere between a game — he does it, you do it, he laughs, repeat — and a trippy way to make himself extra dizzy when done while on the swings, for example.
Over time, it’s become more and more an instrument of choice. No, I don’t want that book, or the next six you offer, but the seventh… he doesn’t nod yes. It’s more an absence of the no, an air of expectation: You have my permission to continue along this path; although occasionally when you guess what he’s trying to get across, he rewards you with a giggle: Ah, you get it! Isn’t it grand?
Up to now, the No had been exclusively employed in the books and mealtimes areas. At meals it was which food he wanted a bite of next. Water or not.
But now, he’s expressing his opinion regarding diaper changes — I’d prefer not to, even if my diaper is full, thanks. And also nursing. Whereas before, I’d offer a boob and he’d either take it or not, now I just have to pat my chest and inquire “boob?” and he votes yay or nay in this new manner.
Last night, after Scott had read him only three books, rather than four or five, I came in to do my part in our bedtime routine (i.e.: nurse him down) as it was getting late. Jonah looked up at me from his spot on Daddy’s lap and shook his head. No, Mama, it’s not time for you yet.
But we switched positions anyway and I tried to suggest that a nurse might be nice. No. Two more books please. These books.
And then, when I suggested he take his bedtime snack, he assented with a turn of his body towards mine.
I think we’re all very clear now as to who is in charge around here.

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