Special things.

Calvin's all about the word special right now. Once I offered to bring him a special treat if he would behave himself while I was gone, and ever since then the word has been like magic.

Two special things of note this week:

1. Potty training. OH BOY. I am so not ready for this, but Calvin's teachers insisted he was ready, so Monday we sent him to school in underwear. He had three accidents (pee only), but his teachers said he did really well. And yesterday he only had one accident all day! Until he got home, that is. Then he had two, immediately after I asked him if he needed to go potty. For some reason he is NOT interested in going potty at home. Nate encouraged me to pick up a special potty treat for him, so now we have a container of M&Ms in our bathroom. It took Calvin approximately two seconds to drop his drawers and pee on the toilet after we offered him a "special treat" for going potty this morning. Although we said "If you go potty you can have an M&M" and he said "No, I can have two M&Ms!" Already a bargainer. Smart cookie.

He looks so cute in his big boy undies, doesn't he?


2. Anne of Green Gables. I caved and bought the full set of Penguin Classics from Anthropologie for baby girl's room. Calvin saw them last night and immediately said "I want that one, the pink one!" As I handed him the copy of Anne of Green Gables, I said "This is one of Mama's very favorite books." He nodded and said "This is my favorite book, too." He carefully carried it around for a while, and then I left to run some errands while Nate's mom and dad gave him a bath and put him to bed. When I came home Mary told me that Calvin had refused to sit in the chair with her to read before bed. Instead he insisted she sit in the chair and read his books to him (pages turned out so he could see the pictures) while he stood at the ottoman and flipped through his "special book." And then he asked to sleep with it.

When I checked on him before bed, I found this:


Oh my heart.

This morning I found him standing at the end of his crib, book laid flat on top, flipping through pages. He said "I'm reading Anne of Green Tables!" and then asked me what it's about and if I would read some of it to him. He sat there wide-eyed and smiling as I read the first paragraph:

Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.

And I was worried I'd never have a daughter to share my love of classic children's literature.