For quite some time now, Connor has been reciting books. He's remarkably good at turning the pages at the right time, and never missing a word. he has tricked more than a few onlookers. Since Helen was born, he's been "reading" to her, which is great because I can leave the room and still hear him, which lets me know that he hasn't moved. But lately, Connor has come to realize that there are words in books, and that there is some rosetta stone out there that he must acquire that will allow him to read these words. He'll point out words and ask Ed about them at bed each night. I'm hoping he figures it out soon so that I can give him the paper each morning to go through and find interesting articles for me to read. Ed used to be my personal clipping service but as of late, he hasn't been doing this for me very often. Perhaps it's because there's nothing in the Post worth reading. Of course, if the little bugger learns to read, he'll be able to outsmart even more people, which is not necessarily a good thing.
However, he could use these skills for good instead of evil. The last few nights, Connor has raced out to hang out with me and Helen when it's time for Helen's bedtime books. And the past few nights, he's taken over reading duties. He's limited to books he's already familiar with, but I have to admit, I'm thinking of turning over the job to him pretty soon.
He also applied for the job of starting bath Sunday night. Ed was vacuuming, Helen and I were playing, and Connor went to the bathroom, stripped (throwing his diaper in the trash), brought the non-slip bathmat into the tub, got it flipped over the correct way, stepped on it to make it stick to the tub, and then plugged the drain. He started the water as well, but that's when I intervened figuring I ought to make sure the water was neither scalding hot nor freezing.
Some days, the little guy can be quite helpful.