More X Chronicles

My cat decided that my Macbook Pro needed a bath.  While Bobby experiences the Apple store for the first time, dipping into our massive savings account (e.g. the credit card) to pay whatever ungodly sum the geniuses demand of us, I am using his computer to blog.  So no pictures this time.  You'll just have to wait for your cuteness fix.

X has decided that since he loves his Cars pajamas, he should only wear his Cars pajamas.  Ever.  He'll sit on the floor, arms crossed over his chest, and declare "no shirt! no shirt!" as his poor daddy tries to entice him--"how about monster truck shirt?  Superhero shirt?"-- to let himself be undressed in the morning.  When he's home, he will find his Cars jammies and thrust them into my lap.  When I set them aside, he will cry out in frustration and put them back in my lap.  He can't understand why his Mommy doesn't get that he wants to put his Cars jammies on.   We have started storing Cars jammies in a place where he can't see or reach them.  At bedtime, he parades around in his Cars jammies, eyeballing himself in the mirror.  "Cars jiji's! Cars jijis!"  One wonders why we wasted money on his other pajamas.  Or, for that matter, what we'll do if the temperature starts dropping at night again, necessitating pajama pants.  Cars jammies are shortie pajamas.  At least we live in a tropical climate.

He has learned how to use the Netflix app on the ipad.  Since he can select what he wants to watch from a pretty expansive list, we are getting an interesting glimpse into his mind.  He loves the "Thomas the Train" theme song and a little cartoon with a car and a bus.  He never watches anything for more than a minute or two. Last night, he watched the first half of the opening sequence to "Daddy Day Care" at least 20 times.  He watched the little boy get up and brush his teeth while "Walking on Sunshine" played, but he was not interested in anything after that.   I deleted the Netflix app after he went to bed.  As it turns out, an adult's tolerance for repetitions of the first minute of "Walking on Sunshine" is significantly lower than a toddler's.

Oh, and Halloween happened.  My precocious troublemaker with blue eyes and wild blond hair went as Calvin.  I went as Hobbes.  Bobby, who looks a good deal like Walter White with the right clothes, went as Breaking Bad's antihero.  Candy was had.  Mostly by mom and dad.