A man of extremes

James had a great time at his friend Morgan's birthday party the other day. Morgan (actually I suspect it was Willy and Janney) gave him some fun puppets as a favor, which have been a big hit. James is particularly fond of the baby monkey puppet, and has been taking very sweet care of it. Thus far he has fed the monkey cheese and raisins, hugged and patted it, chanted little songs to it, and given it a binky [pacifier] so it can take a nap.

At the other extreme, he has also learned to pitch a terrific fit. Over the past week or so, James has started to fly into rages (when thwarted in his desires either by me or by his inability to speak/walk as fluently as he'd like), in which he will holler and holler while espaliering himself facedown against the floor and propelling himself forward and backward with the tips of his toes.

The toe propulsion aspect of this is almost unbearably funny, but of course I CAN'T laugh. Nobody likes to hear that he's cute when he's mad, especially when it's true.