June 11 was Arthur's first birthday. He enjoyed himself very much. One of his favorite presents was given by Evil Cousin Patrick, a plastic MegaBlock Wizard of Oz play set. It lights up and plays music. His other favorite present is a plastic pug.
Mark doesn't remember if Arthur started feeding the plastic pug spontaneously or if Mark did it first. But Arthur continues to feed the plastic pug. He also feeds us sometimes; but more often he takes back his food.
We've also closed on the house. We'll probably get the keys in a few days.
Arthur is signing like crazy. The other day I made up a sign for harp -- today he demanded a harp concert. Arthur really likes the harp; he likes to play it and he likes to be harped to sleep.
He learned the sign for flower at the beginning of the week. He's also making up his own signs. When he puts his hand to his nose like he's got hay fever, that's the sign for Mark. All this signing has led to his first poem (well, at least that's the way I interpreted it). Yesterday, when I was changing into a cooler shirt (the weather has gotten hot here), Arthur pointed to my nipple and then signed "flower". I'm guessing this is half of some haiku, and that we'll get the other half sometime in the future
is a flower.
I think this deserves some sort of Robert Bly Award. I don't know why Arthur thinks my left nipple is a flower -- he didn't smell it. I suppose my aureole looks like a blossom, but the hairs growing out of it don't look a thing like petals. Actually, now that I think about it more, I hope he wasn't calling me a pansy.