You Gotta Love Him

Ah, Max. His sharp increase in vocalizing skills, while not without its downside ("Max do it!" "No, Mama clean it!" "Don't want to!" and etc.), brings me much amused delight. And, therefore, it brings you yet another 'Max is funny and awesome, and here is how and why' blog post. So, recent humorous/touching items of note:
1) The other day, Max and I were reading a book about a bunny named Max. Max (the bunny) gets dirty, and his older sister tells him that he needs a bath. When I read the line, "Oh, you need a bath, Max!", Max (the boy) pointed to himself and said, "ME?!" I laughed for about an hour, and apparently Max (the boy) enjoyed my reaction, because he now points to himself and says, "ME?!" whenever anyone in our household says anything to anyone else about anything. Oh, man, it slays me.
2) Max is a boy who enjoys routine. He has come to understand that certain phrases get certain responses, and he will correct you quite indignantly if you fail to deliver the expected answer to a question or statement. Last night at bedtime, for example, he said, "I love you, Mama." When I was not quite quick enough saying it back, he tapped me on the forehead and said, "I love you Max, Mama!" sharply and disapprovingly.
3) A short while ago, we watched the Wallace and Gromit movie, The Wrong Trousers, which features a pair of robotic pants that cause mayhem when their remote control is stolen by a criminally-minded penguin. (What a weird plot summary for a movie! you are thinking to yourself right now. No wonder poor Max says and does strange things, if this is the kind of thing he is allowed to watch!)Max took in this film with deep enjoyment, and has spent the last week marching around the house without bending his knees. When you ask him why on earth he is walking so stiffly, he will intone "Robot Legs!" and continue on as if you never spoke.
4)We have had to limit Max's milk consumption to after meals and before nap and bed, otherwise he will consume nothing but cow juice. In addition, one of his parents (I won't say which one, but it wasn't Ian) foolishly introduced him to the concept of chocolate milk in a moment of weakness, and he can't for the life of him understand why he was accepting the non-chocolatey kind like a sucker for so long. Max disapproves of milk-related limits. Having recognized the pattern that accompanies milk delivery (milk, then bed, or meal, then milk), he has formulated the following plans: When confronted by food, Max will gently and neatly place his dish on the farthest possible corner of his tray from himself, and say with finality, "Done!" followed, after a discreet pause, with, "Milk? Chocolate milk?" When told that he will be receiving no milk until bedtime, Max will say, "Chocolate milk? Sleep?" which he has now shortened to "Chocolate sleep?" Needless to say, he shamelessly welches on the sleep part of the deal.
5)When Max wakes up in the morning, the first thing he does is slide out of his crib, circle around to Ian's side of the bed, and say, "Max play. Legos? Mans? Dada, too? Coming, Dada?" Max is friendly, and he likes most people, but no one holds a candle -- or even a sputtering, slightly damp, barely lit match -- to Daddy. Does it trouble me, being a distant second in my much-loved boy-child's heart? No, no it doesn't. Firstly, the father-son bond is important and should be nurtured, and secondly, if Max makes Ian get up and play with him in the morning, then I have the big bed to myself (well, relatively to myself. Maggie is usually there, too, but she is small) and can sleep in a little bit.