Spoonman

Benjamin's favorite appliance in our house is the dishwasher, sorry rice cooker. And the other day I was doing my household duty of emptying the dishwasher and Benjamin did something outside of his usual routine of trying to climb into the dishwasher.

He pulled out two spoons from the utensil caddy and trotted out of the kitchen. A few seconds later he came back to the dishwasher empty handed and pulled out two more spoons. I assumed he was playing a little game where he grabs the spoons, hoping that I chase him, and then tosses them into the dogbed like he does every other one of his toys (sorry Schmax).

I let him do it a couple more times until I realized he had taken every spoon we have and put them somewhere (these were clean by the way, so it also hit me that I have to watched all of the flippin spoons again). Curiosity finally won out and I followed him on his final spoon heist, only to discover that he has arranged (not thrown) all of the spoons on the window sill in our office.

Clearly, I know that he is not an artist in-residence with high-level cognitive thinking, but it was amazing to see how he was actually evaluating the current structure to determine where best to place the next spoon. It was a neat moment, and then a creepy moment. It reminded me of the Matrix where that little psychic girl is bending spoons with her mind.

Ultimately, it was one of those instances where you wish you could peek into someone's mind to see exactly what's going on in that noggin. There is, however, one thing I knew for certain - how Benjamin would react when I gathered up the spoons. Let's just say I'm glad they weren't knives.

It's Summer Baby!

(insert excuse for not posting stuff in nearly two months, but it involves saving orphans from fires and helping to topple the Taliban)

Since last we met Benjamin has gone through a bit of a renaissance progressing from "baby" to "toddler". It is amazing that in less time than a pro

motional period for free Time Warner cable a life form can go from craw

ling with little

understanding of language to a bi-ped that can communicate through sign language and remedial mutterings of english.

It is also a relief to my biceps now that I don't have to lug around 27lbs of dead weight everywhere. In fact, if I try and hold him too long he wants to bust loose and explore his house. He actually kind of struts a bit when he cruises around the living room and kitchen, like this is his joint. But then you get him in some of the other bedrooms and he is tentative like he is creeping around a haunted mansion with no flashlight. His eyes go wide

not knowing what lurks behind every nook and cranny. He also issues out a "Hmmpf..." sound almost like it is a sonar ping.

The decibel level in our house has also increased. He is definitely... finding his voice, not crying just doing his best impression of a caveman. Before I would get nervous if I heard him making noise, now I get nervous when he's not making noise. A sure sign that he is up to no good.

That's the other part of his renaissance, he dabbles in the arts of mischief. I call it mischief because he knows that he's not supposed to do something but he tests the boundaries anyway. Like turning on our bathtub faucet - he'll go over to it, look my way, and then turn it on and quickly turn it off and scurry away. I'll warn him with a timeout, and you can see him pondering the repercussions and still do it anyway. And he

takes the punishment like Steve McQueen in the Great Escape - he sits in his room and does his time with smile about how he tested "The Man".

There are a dozen other things to go on about, but I will stop here so I have more topics readily available to write about in the near future. Thanks for coming back to check this out, you're making sure that the terrorists don't win.