Tuesday in the Park with Ivo and Burl

Today we met Krysta, Shea, Alison and Tessa at the science museum park. It was a beautiful, blue-sky, not too hot day.

However, there is a lot of plant matter, fuzz-encased seeds and the like floating around (along with all the less natural particulate matter). This seems to be causing Ivo some discomfort. He's runny-nosey and under-eye-circley. But otherwise happy.

The kids drew a small crowd of what I'm guessing to be unemployed junior high school drop-outs, with cameras.

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I think Ivo is pretty polite for his age - without seeming like a cowering automaton. He says thank you and you're welcome without prompting in non-stressful situations. He needs to be coaxed when supermarket clerks and other people outside the house give him stuff, though. Sometimes he refuses, sometimes he whispers his thank you, under duress or pain of not getting to eat/open/keep it. Sometimes he's feeling groovy and outgoing, engaging with all and sundry, employing all social niceties.

Still, Ryan and I are are working on teaching and encouraging nicer requests. Ivo's old enough that the novelty (although not the cuteness) of his speech isn't enough to excuse the rudeness of the endless blunt orders. It's hard not to feel put-upon while being dictated to by a mini-general who just doesn't know better yet. Whether delivered sweetly sing-songily or alarmingly declared, these skeletal constructions, this ur-language has got to go; "I want apple juice!" "I've got a boog!" "I want more!"

So, gently we've been encouraging more socially acceptable phrasing, telling Ivo that being polite makes people feel happy. He usually will go for it and take a verbal stab at the corrected-suggested rephrase. But tonight after happily eating half a toasted cheesy ciabatta, a cup of peas and a strawberry yogurt, Ivo bellowed from his booster chair "I'VE GOT A BOOG!!!"

I asked him if he needed help. Yes. Then you say, "Mama, please help me wipe my nose." Ivo: "Uhh... I don't like dat. I will just say 'I got a boog.'"