New year, new O

Owen is 18 months old now, which among other things, means that we now leave the pediatrician's office without having the next periodic checkup already scheduled. What else is new with the Young Gentleman?

He's a boy, so we knew pyromania was in his future at some point. We haven't gotten the "mania" yet, but perhaps pyrophilia: Owen managed to char a clothespin by sticking it in the toaster. Cunningly, he did this while the toaster was unplugged, in the pantry. Thus his move was only revealed the next day, when toast time produced an unusual amount of smoke and burning smell.

I was in London for a couple of days last week. Thanks to red-eye flights and my early departures for work in the morning, two days of meetings lead to almost four days away. When I got out of the car Thursday evening, I could hear him across the driveway banging on the window in excitement. So it seems he's developed enough perception of time that 96 hours away is different than 12.

And admittedly, it was good for my ego to receive such an enthusiastic welcome home. But lest I think I was too wonderful, within minutes, Owen turned to my shoes, specifically, removing the laces. And while that was interesting, trying to put the laces back in the shoes was absolutely engrossing (as in, in the teen years, receive-a-lecture-about-manners-because-you're-ignoring-all-the-human-beings-around-you engrossing). You can tell when he really is concentrating. First, he starts huffing and puffing (all the firing neurons are hogging the oxygen, I guess). Then he starts talking to himself (no clue where he gets that from; maybe Kerry or a former roommate of mine could offer some insight).

Shoelaces