In the spirit of Christmas giving, we let Luke open one present early. Mostly because it is funny to watch a 16 month-old open gifts. Of course, he picked the longest, most interesting shaped package.
My husband swears that Luke knew what it was. It was an umbrella.
Luke became obsessed with umbrellas when rainy season started, and has remained obsessed ever since. He loves clutching one in the car. It is always an emergency when I take a sharp corner, and the umbrella careens out of his little chubby grasp. After so many insistent “uh! uh!” noises (baby equivalent of “umbrella”), I am close to losing my mind. I usually throw it in the way back at that point, only to have my husband kindly hand it to him on the following car trip when Luke attempts to hurdle the backseat to reach the umbrella.
He daily begs me to open up our hugest umbrella. I always comply – who wants to have a whiny kid all day? It is obviously important to him so I figure it cannot hurt anything. I try to close it before guests come over.
Anyways, I decided to get him his own umbrella for Christmas, hoping to stem all this other umbrella craziness.
He absolutely loved it. He marches around the house sounding like a seal, as he triumphantly proclaims “umbrella! umbrella!” in baby talk. He holds it above his head and informs us about “rain”.
We are besieged with requests to “open” and “close” the umbrella. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy.
I thought he was the one who was supposed to have seven years bad luck.