I Started This...I Think

Beanstalk arrived "some-assembly-required." I've mentioned this before. His club feet aren't the only thing he's dealt with, but they were one of the most marked things you'd notice about him when he was first-hatched. He's fragile bone-wise. So, you can imagine the response to the fact that his preference lately seems to be to take off running. After he surveys his domain he'll pause and look around at everyone and grin and say, "Race?" Or like today, he'd say, "Up!" And that was all the warning you were going to get because Crashstalk was on a mission.

Beanstalk is thinking:  **FREEEEDOOOOMMMM**

Mom is thinking: **FEEEEMMMUUURRRSSSS**

Femurs? Femori? Are they like lemurs when you have two of them? I don't really know, but I live in abject fear of him breaking another one and he...does not? I think he does. Enough so that he gets royally teed off when he falls, but not enough that he stops this running business.

He's not all-out running. I don't have to run to keep up. I have to walk briskly. With purpose. And great meaning. With the ability to swipe his entire body off it's current path at any second because the other thing he does not do is run around anything or anybody that is in his path. He. Just. Runs.

Smack into stuff and people if you don't catch him. And my job is to sacrifice my body to break his fall, I guess. I don't really know, but I think about it a lot while I trot around behind him.


He is also into keeping life interesting in other ways. We were watching a concert this morning. It was full of waltzes. He sits on my lap to watch and scream like he's rocking out to Def Leppard when really it's Strauss. And today we were short on seating, but he never sits by himself anyway because he looooves to be in someone's lap cuddling (it's like a code of ethics with him...never leave a lap untended).

Beanstalk : "Dance?" (Would you like to dance?)

Me: "I would love to dance!"

We get up to waltz. This is common. Except this time he gets all prepared and leads me in three counts of a waltz. If that. Then, he makes a beeline for the chair and sits down and "doesn't look at me." Which is to say he's not looking at me but...he is. A moment passes and he manages to look blessedly innocent. Which he has practiced to the nth degree.

Beanstalk: "Chair?" (Would you like a chair?)

There isn't one. He grins widely and peeks out from under his eyebrows.

Beanstalk: "Turkey."

"Turkey" is his word for "I'm being a turkey," which is our way of saying "I'm messing with you on purpose" and he says it in a low, growly voice like I do when I tickle him after I catch him at it and ask him if that's what he's doing.

And he's getting to be a reeeeeely big turkey.
Scat