Crossing Santa off of our list

We went to Clear Creek Nursery this weekend so that Silas could see Santa. I don't know what I was thinking. He did enjoy seeing several of Santa's reindeer.

And the curious camel:
He looks so happy, so excited...
But this was as close as we could get to Santa:
See that grin? That's the thankful-to-be-nowhere-near-the-real-Santa-smile. We got all the way to the front of the line before it became perfectly obvious that Silas wasn't going anywhere near Santa, who was accompanied by Mrs. Claus, an elf, and a reindeer.

I don't know why I thought this was something he would enjoy. He LOVES Santa, or more correctly, the idea of Santa. He can't wait for Santa to come. I thought maybe, just maybe... But he doesn't want to sit on his lap or be anywhere near him. Or talk to him. Or make eye contact. Or eat Mrs. Claus' cookies. Or have story-time with him (he's been very specific on this point).

It's not worth it, especially if it's just to get a picture. Next year, we will write a letter.

Don't fear the sweeper

Silas jumped a huge hurdle this weekend. He went from being terrified of our vacuum, to accepting it's existence and being willing to touch it to THIS:
Not only will he now allow us to vacuum while he's in the room, but he want's to help! We actually had to put it back upstairs because he wouldn't stop playing with it and riding it like a car. Hours later he said "Mommy, bring vacuum downstairs!"

This changes everything! Well, okay, not everything, but it does mean we can now vacuum whenever we want, rather than waiting till we're both home so that one of us can take Silas out of the house while the other vacuums. Those days are OVER!

In addition to handling, with greater ease, things that make loud noises, he's also less timid around other kids. One day in the park while he was with his dad, he went up to another boy who was a bit older, but less vocal (according to his mom). Silas, with a big smile on his face, said "Hi! How doing?" The little boy stared at him. Silas stared back. The little boy stared some more. Silas got bored and moved on to the next thing of interest. It was a simple social "interaction," but I'm glad that he initiated it. Even just a few months ago, that probably wouldn't have happened, and he more likely would have been in the other boy's shoes. He still has a bit of the shy-guy in him, but it's much less pronounced, and his introspective personality is balanced with a sense of curiosity and budding ability to socialize with his peers. It's wonderful to watch this side of him develop :)

A perfect hair day

What can I say? The boy's got style! The hair dryer is a new fashion-must for Silas, who until recently was a bit afraid of it. Gotta keep those golden-locks in check!

Silas vs. Vacuum --a love/hate relationship

Way back on Thanksgiving, I noted that Silas called the vacuum "gummy." I suppose you can look at the second syllable of vacuum and get the connection he's making. This video shows Silas using a little sweeper vacuum, which we got for Silas at my friend Jill's suggestion. It really is sweet to see how helpful he can be with his little sweeper, which he will push around all over the house. As you can see, he loves it, and we are hoping it eventually leads to him not being deathly afraid of "real" vacuums. So far, no dice. If our vacuum is even in site, he makes a pouty face and begins to cry. One time, I brought it downstairs thinking that if it was around enough, he'd just get over it. He started crying and shaking violently and I quickly nixed that idea. We'll stick with his little "gummy" for now and hope that he outgrows this fear soon.

the no whistle zone and the BIG Bruise

Just in case you thought life on Planet Silas was always rainbows and puppies, as the first picture would imply, let me introduce you to exhibit B:
What provoked this sad, sorry, woe-is-me face?
Less then 2 seconds of, believe it or not, WHISTLING.
There you have it. For some reason we have not currently sussed out, Silas hates whistling. It wasn't always that way, but for a few weeks or so, even the briefest whistling has resulted in Silas freezing in place, turning to the whistler in horror, and then bursting into tears. All we can really do is redirect his attention as soon as possible, usually by singing one of his favorite songs or quickly whisking him outside.

This seemingly irrational fear of whistling has led me to realize something about myself: I whistle. A lot. I usually start whistling without even thinking about it, until my son turns to me with the face you see above as though I've just run over a kitten and then put the car in reverse and run over it again. I have to check myself constantly now to make sure I don't mindlessly whistle along with to music. Thankfully, humming meets with no adverse reaction, so we are safe to hum along, for now.

Oh yes, and in today's top story, Silas tripped and hit his eye on one of his toys. He scraped and bruised himself pretty badly right below his eye and on his cheek. It looks awful and it took us forever to calm him down. This is by far the worst injury he's had to date. Although I'm sure there will be many more and it's not as though it's his first bruise, it still sucks to see his sweet little face all marked up. You can see just part of the injury in the picture below. But upside bonus: You can see all of those pearly whites in the picture too. Tooth #15 just poked through!

Fear, thy name is...Lawnmower?

Silas is no fan of loud noises, so it's not a big surprise that he's afraid of the lawnmower. But like other things that he is afraid of because they are loud (the vacuum, the sheep), he is also strangely fascinated by the lawnmower. Here he is, standing at the window, whining softly with his lower lip pushed out and his eyes wide. As Shannon drives the mower near our house, he can't take his eyes off of it, no matter how scared he is.
I didn't capture the scaredy-face, unfortunately (it's pretty irresistible). Instead, he has his fingers lodged in his mouth to give him comfort and help ward off the coming doom as the mower circles ever closer to the house.

Meanwhile, one of us still has to walk Silas outside while the other vacuums.

But, we are making headway with the sheep. Until quite recently, Silas was, well, sheepish with the sheep. He was okay unless they started Baaing loudly. The suddenness of this was enough to send him over the edge. Now however, I'm happy to report that when they baa, instead of crying, Silas says "baa" back. In fact, he now seems to refer to the sheep as "baa." This, my friends, is progress. Perhaps when he can start imitating the lawnmower and vacuum, he will overcome those fears as well.