Bodie's new phrase is "I no like it." He uses this handy little expression with almost everything in his terrible two lifestyle. His big brothers give him plenty of reasons to say "I no like it", and when he's sitting in his highchair at suppertime you'd think that phrase completes his entire vocabulary.

Lately his "I no likes" are mostly concerning the scary stuff associated with Halloween. He sees spooky stuff on the tv, even on Noggin, and he gets a little unnerved. "I no like it, show."  All of us boys have skeleton shirts, and even those creep him out. He sees bones on a shirt and says "I no like it, shirt." I don't know why he's being such a scaredy cat. He gets the theme of Halloween, I suppose, and he's not liking it.

With our house all decked out in Halloween decor, hopefully he'll get over his apprehensions and enjoy this time of year a little more. Sara's started a little Halloween village with a spooky candy shop, creepy trees and a haunted mansion, Bodie won't go near it. "I no like it, spooky" he says.

We told him we would be going to the Pumpkin Patch to get some pumpkins, and he said with enthusiasm "YES!" However, when we got there, it was more of the same. "I no like it, punka patch." He refused to go near the pumpkins! Just like every other family in America, we were trying to pose the kids amongst the pumpkins and hay bales, but our littlest model was heartily rejecting the idea. "I no like it, punkas!" He was literally afraid to go near them. Eventually I got him to sit on my knee for a second, then it was back to clinging to his mama's pant leg. The look on his face was "Why are you doing this to me?" And the look on my face was "How can this be? My son is a wuss?"

Bodie was once our most fearless child (see Crash Test Bodie, January '10) but this year's Halloween stuff has shaken his confidence. He's still pretty reckless on his trike and as a climber, but he manages now to keep his face nearly bruise free.

Even as I type these words, Bodie is standing next to me looking at the photo on the screen saying "Oh no daddy, no sit punkas." This was last weekend, and apparantly he's still traumatized.

Gavin and Garrett were having a ball, shooting pictures with their little mickey mouse cameras and rating the pumpkins as ovals or circles. Nonetheless, the pumpkin patch excursion was getting pretty stressful for the two year old. Garrett, our most tactful and diplomatic child, came up with a great idea. "Let's give Bodie a baby punkin to hold, and he won't be scared of it." What do you know, it worked! "Baby punka?" Bodie said, still not sure of himself. He took it in his hands and eyed it hesitantly, and Sara snapped a few quick photos.

He slightly warmed up to the patch after that, but he still wasn't thrilled about it. I don't know what made him fear all those pumpkins. I just hope he doesn't chicken out when it's time to trick-or-treat.

We have signs all over the house. Some are labels, some are direction markers, and others are dire warnings. A visitor to our home might ask "Uh, what's up with all the signs?"

Well, let me go back to Gavin's infanthood. When he was little, we put up index cards on everything to help him learn to read. We labeled the doors, windows, fridge, tv, etc. I even wore one around my neck that read "Daddy." Due to autism and the circumstance that he didn't speak until he was into his 3rd year, we had no idea whether or not he gave a hoot about all the signs. Eventually the signs came down and the scotch tape was scraped off. Gavin began to communicate and learned to read, and is an academic all-star in first grade presently. Enough bragging, I'll try to make my point now.

As it turns out, he did pay attention to the signs when he was a baby. How do I know this? Because he told me. He just brought it up with me one day. He asked "Dad, why don't we have signs on stuff anymore?" To my amazement, he then proceeded to tell me about all the different signs he remembered on all of our stuff. I couldn't believe it. He said "Why was there a sign in my crib that said 'Jeep'? That was so silly."

How could he remember those details?

Now he wants his baby brother Bodie to have the same experience with the signs. Gavin has diligently made labels for everything again, from the floor to the ceiling. I've carefully followed his instructions on where to tape them.

The little 3x5 cards are one thing, but lately he's moved onto printer paper and the signs are becoming fairly elaborate. Every corner of our house now has a direction assigned to it, such as "The South East." Near the walk to our front door there's a set of signs that read "Go North West to enter our home." Then "Welcome to the Compass house." It's getting out of hand, but its pretty funny. Paper's cheap, and its good writing practice for him.

 My favorite sign so far was the wasp warning. We had a family of wasps take residence in the soffit above the door, so Gavin immediately whipped up this doozy:

It reads "No going out this door thers a wasp." The blue figure with the red slash obviously means the warning is intended for all humans inside our house. He says he wants to be a sign painter when he grows up. I think he has a great mind for it!

Bodie's almost 2, and he's almost potty trained. I can make that very bold statement because the very first time I sat him on the potty he did a number 1 without much prompting at all. He knew what to do, he has seen his brothers do it a thousand times. We haven't been pushing the potty training issue with him at all. We figured it would just eventually happen by osmosis, just as every other skill he's achieved in the last 23 months has been obtained. He sees one of his siblings do something, and he's got to try it.

He copies me with everything I do, too. If I'm frying some eggs at the stove, he's right there standing on a chair next to me reaching for the spatula, saying "Careful. Hot." If I'm trying to find that invisible perpetual leak under our kitchen sink, he's sitting on my belly shining the flashlight in my eyes or clocking me with the wrench. I love it. He saw me plunging the toilet last week, now he thinks that is a regular part of flushing. He waits patiently with the plunger until you've concluded doing your business, then sets it in the toilet as a finishing touch.

The way his first pee pee time occured was like this: It was pre-bathtime. G,G, and B we're all buck naked, running around the house like a riotous pack of wild chimpanzees. I believe it was an airplane race they we're having, 10 laps around the couch is standard activity after supper and before bath. Gavin and Garrett like to fly their match-box sized jets and Bodie was flying a bulldozer, trying his best to keep up. Amidst the melee, Bodie paused, dropped his bulldozer and reached for his privates. I was lucky enough to be right there as racetrack official, I scooped him up and rushed him to the potty.

At first he looked confused, like "Hey, I was about to take care of business right here on the floor like I always do before bath!"  But then as he perched on the little blue stool, he got very quiet, and he looked at me with a determined stare that said "I know what to do. It's go time." I turned on the faucet for its subliminal effect.
Within 30-45 seconds, he had accomplished his first frothy deposit with minimal overspray and maximum fulfillment. I hollered for Sara to come witness the glorious event and we both lavished praise on him to the point of worship. He knew he had done well! Even after the accolades, he carried a smug glow of self-congratulation on his face only a successful potty trainee can exhibit. He proudly marched right out of the bathroom, but kept going back in there to look at what he had done.

I hope this blog post doesn't jinx us, but I think before too long he will be doing it on his own. No more pull-ups! Except at bedtime, of course, so we can all rest easy. One baby step at a time, you know.