Pumped a lot of pain down in New Orleans

Nolan loves wheels.

I say this in the manner of stating a fundamental law of the universe, like "Dogs love bacon," or "Guys love trucks" or whatever those stupid commercials were.

His favorite part of any trip to anywhere is looking at the wheels on cars as we're walking to or from the parking lot. We went to a local beach a couple weeks ago - nothing special, just a lake with a small sand beach and a playground - but I was like, "Nolan, look! Seagulls! Water, Nolan! Sand!" and all he wanted to do was look at the wheels on the cars in the parking lot. He has to pat every wheel he sees in an attempt to spin it; it doesn't matter how big (or dirty) the wheel in question, he'll cry, "Ehh!" and his little hand will stroke the surface, trying to get the wheel to rotate.

We've been using his little umbrella stroller almost exclusively lately because it's smaller, lighter and easier for me to maneuver, but while Mom was here we got the big stroller out of the basement in case he wanted to lay down for a nap while we were out and about (the umbrella stroller doesn't recline). When he saw Mom bring the big stroller up from the basement, Nolan let out a squeal the likes of which I'd never heard before; it was like he'd found the Holy Grail, or seen a friend he hadn't seen in twenty years. He didn't even want to ride in it, he just wanted to spin the wheels. Now when I need a few minutes to do something baby-free, I can open up his big stroller on the living room floor and he'll play undistracted for a good twenty minutes or so. Such is the power of the wheel.

So today, Nolan had just eaten lunch (crackers, watermelon, swiss cheese and mixed vegetables, since you asked) and I was bracing myself for the dreaded post-prandial washcloth cleansing routine, in which I attempt to wipe off his face and hands and he screams like I'm ax-murdering him. His screams had a different quality today, however - he kept pointing* at me and saying "Eh!" over and over. He was trying to grab me, but since his hands were still dirty I wouldn't let him. I couldn't figure out what he wanted, and it was driving me crazy. (We do this little pantomime a lot - he says, "Eh!" and I point at various things in the room I think might be the item in question - "The light? The ball? The cat?" and when I get to the right one he's usually able to let me know via a more-excited "Eh!") I thought perhaps he was just anxious to get out of the highchair and play, and was pointing to me to say, "Get me down, woman!" but since I hadn't wiped him off yet, I wouldn't. The whole thing was very frustrating.

Finally I actually looked down at myself to see what he might be pointing at, and I realized I was wearing this They Might Be Giants t-shirt. With, of course, wheels on it. THAT's what he was freaking out about, he was trying to grab the wheel on my t-shirt. So once SuperDunce Mommy figured it out and held out the t-shirt so he could try to spin the wheel, Nolan calmed down and order returned to the universe.

Sheesh.

It would be much easier if he spoke English.

On the bright side, communication-wise, he has learned the sign for "more," so he can ask for more of something when he's eating, and he'll also "moo" when I point to a picture of a cow. Although his "moo" is sort of lacking in the "oo" department and thus comes out more as "mmmmmm!" So maybe he's not moo-ing, maybe he's saying he'd like a nice juicy steak.

Thanks for reading.

*when Nolan points, he does so with his entire hand pinched into a kind of sign-language "e" instead of the traditional extended index finger. I'm not sure why.