Just a swing’in

Theo loves his red boots and the swing.

Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy

Camo, boots, onesie, backpack.  Theo marches to a different drummer.  He loves his new onesie, his old red boots, and, for some reason, the grass seeder.

Style

Theo thought he would see what’s on TV before digging a trench.

Fall fashions

After breakfast, Theo donned his gear and jumped into action.

All in a day’s . . .

Earlier, when Theo had just gotten up, the first things he did were to put his back pack on and carry his block bag and hot wheels box out of the bedroom.  There at the entry to the kitchen he saw I had cereal set up for him on the table ready to pour.  Suddenly he tossed his back pack, dropped the other necessities as he ran to sit down and eat.

Then half way through his breakfast, Theo jumped up from the table and ran down the hall.  Two minutes later I checked on him.  He was in the bathroom pooping.  If you are new here please refer to other posts on poop.  You will get it; just don’t get it on you.

Then Theo walked directly back to the table to sit down and eat again.

Later, Theo suddenly decided to transverse down stairs.  So I checked on him and he was in the bathroom sitting on the toilet.  So I put his bun huggers back on, then he ran to the laundry room kicking up his legs like he does and closes the door.

So I write my wife an email describing all this and Theo shows up with shorts and a shirt for me to put on for him.  He already had his blue shorts on too.  In regard to style he marches to his own drum.  He is outside right now swinging in his blue shorts, shorts, shirt, red boots, and chemo-hair.

 

Partridge in a . . .

So Theo redressed himself this morning as usual – in his bathing suit.  But

later when I took him potty it was a little difficult to pull his bathing suit

down.  That is when I began to notice:

one pair of shorts,

two pairs of underwear

and a bathing suit on a pair spree.

Sing it with me now.

North by Northwest

Theo has started dressing himself after a shower.  He will grab the clothes I lay out for him and run to the hall bathroom to put them on.  If you remember, he has a little trouble putting on clothes correctly.  After today’s shower he got dressed and we hopped in the truck like a couple of Rednecks and drove to the bank.  On the way out I walked Theo to the shotgun side and when he stepped off the curb to get in the truck he fell down.  I gave him a little time, since he is a big boy, then I leaned over to help.  Now his shorts are a little baggie so they had drifted down in the mishap revealing that his underwear was on backwards.  Well, I laughed out loud in the bank parking lot.  First, Rednecks can’t be letting their shorts hang down to the ground and second they can’t be wearing their doggone underwear South ways when they are heading North.  Blogit!

Little helper, big time

Theo is always trying to help.  For example, in the picture on the side (right, left, top, middle, whatever) he is trying to set the sprinkler up for watering the lawn.  But we here in Theo-land must stay on our toes.  I adjusted the sprinkler right after this picture was taken so it would stay on the grass and then I thought, ‘Theo might be turning the water on right now while I am gazing into the nozzles.’  So I deftly pointed the nozzles away from my face and sure enough, Theo had in fact turned the water on – in an attempt to help.

One morning I heard Theo jump out of bed and run down stairs.  Often he goes into the laundry room to change clothes into something that suits his style.  A little while later I was in the laundry room down stairs and noticed the washer was on and the timer read:  1:36.  I looked inside to see very little clothing.  Finally I figured out how to turn it off and there were his clothes that he had taken off that morning.  Theo changed his clothes alright.  He took them off and threw them into the washer.  It’s the thought that counts.

And when Theo wants French fries then he is full of help.  Oh yes, when it is that marvelous invention, long, slender, crispy fried, po-ta-toes; those killers of all diets that are attributed to the French, but were created in Belgium (sounds familiar), then Theo is a hands on, micro-manager.  First he gets the bag out of the freezer, finds me and shakes the bag like a ghost with a chain.  I let them thaw out a little and then acquiesce.  So we both head for the kitchen, tripping on each other like two puppies.  I turn on the burner and Theo suddenly realizes:  oil!  So he retrieves the vegetable oil from the pantry and I oil those frozen mamas while he excitedly rummages through the refrigerator for the ketchup.   While the oil is warming, Theo applies the second best food group to his plate, that wonderful red, red stuff, that Esau sold his birth right for, Hunt’s crème de la crème.  Finally the oil is warming so I test it by gently throwing in a sacrificial fry; a small fry.  Well Theo grabs one or two and slams them in for the score (I clean up later).  So while father and son wait for the mother and child reunion (tomato and potato), the son imitates how the father stands.  First one foot crossed over the other, then switch.  That goes on for about a minute, then Theo places his head on the counter in exhaustion – I guess anticipation is making him wait (remember?).  Okay, so the gourmet food is ready and I begin to scoop out the hot delectables and Theo has got to be there.  Right up in my work with white hot oil.   So I carefully transfer them onto his plate, which he grabs and then laughs as he carries it downstairs.

Just a swingin’ up-update

This picture is a little blurry, but I guess Theo has had a tough day.  He decided that he a Spongebob should relax with a wine glass of water each.  If you look closely you can see a wine glass on each night stand.

Just a swingin’ update

Oh, he came back in and put his coat on and is on the backyard swing now.  The a/c is on.