At his 15-month check-up, we found that the fluid behind Porter’s ear drums still hasn’t cleared out. This, coupled with the fact that he is still yelling at us in some unintelligible Eastern European dialect meant we were directed by the pediatrician to take him to an audiologist and ear-nose-throat specialist. After a string of hearing tests and some poking and prodding, it was determined that he would need tubes. As the ear-nose-throat doc so scientifically put it: “Once that fluid sits in the ears for a while, it turns into Jell-O; we call it glue ear, because once it’s there, there ain’t no getting rid of it without forcibly removing it.” I could tell from his explanation of the procedure that he has done it no less than a gazillion times. I don’t know if it is because every child in Humboldt County has “glue ear” or if it is because we found the most popular doctor in the area, but we couldn’t even get in for the procedure for 4 weeks.

Both the audiologist and the ENT indicated that although both ears have fluid, the left one is definitely the worst, and where he is experiencing the most hearing loss. Given this knowledge, we are now known to talk loudly and slowly as though he were 80, and use insanely crude and ridiculous sign language. We are also getting used to saying catchy things to each other like, “Make sure you are talking into his good ear.” Our sensitive and nurturing tendencies shining through, as always.

We are confident this will be a fairly routine procedure, and are looking forward to having his hearing back at full speed so that he may actually begin using speech and language and quit barking at us like an angry, pint-sized dictator. Who can’t speak English. And has no patience. And throws things.

What he lacks in speech and hearing, he is making up for in physical activity and his iron-willed determination to get his way. Do not leave this child unattended. Ever, ever under any circumstances. Ever. I realized – a little bit too late – that I needed to be photographing all of the various and sundry predicaments he gets himself into these days. Missed, were the photos of him disassembling, climbing into and frolicking in the ashes of the free-standing fire pit. Or the photos of him eating handfuls of catfood. Or the photos of him “typing” on the computer (read: banging fists wildly against the keyboard).

As for that last item, it was accomplished because of his new favorite pass-time – climbing onto table-tops. He is wicked fast, and once up to his desired elevation, begins dancing around in sheer delight over his accomplishment.

There are days where I am almost certain his head is going to explode because of his rage feuled tantrums over fairly benign issues. On this particular day, I didn’t have the strength to get into another battle of wills with him over whether or not he could abscond with an entire package of toilet paper. I managed to negotiate him down to a single roll. Of which, he made quick work of shredding:

And if you have the audacity to deprive of utensils at mealtime, you may as well just call CPS right now, because you are obviously THE WORST PARENT EVER:

And this day? This day, all he would eat was cup after cup of frozen berries. I think I managed to cut him off somewhere around his 4th serving. (I can only assume it had something to do with the 4 eye teeth he is getting simultaneously!)

And, all I can say is that when he asks for your sunglasses, you had better damn well give him your sunglasses. (Also know as: the number one reason why I no longer own sunglasses whose replacement cost is over $20 per pair.)

But that’s okay. Because around these parts, cute? Yeah, it goes a long way.