Our kitchen has been undergoing transformation lately. As the baby changes so does the house, the kitchen being one of the first as we latch the cabinets, clear low shelves, and brace for the oncoming storm. That is, for all but one cabinet. There’s a little cabinet by the fridge which Faith has cleaned out and “restocked” for Zane. He has his own dishes, lids, wooden spoons, and even a sauce pan to play with. I’m not sure why he needs a sauce pan, but he seems to agree with the assignment.

On a typical afternoon one might be cooking a meal while Zane crawls into the kitchen and checks a couple of the cabinet locks, to make sure they are still working. He then crawls over to his cabinet and spends some quality time opening it and closing it. Open. Close. Open. Close. Who could have expected such meditative bliss from a simple door? Once properly in tune with his inner child he begin the process of removing and carefully examining the contents of his cabinet.

We were at a car lot yesterday afternoon and the salesman, a young fella with an eleven year old, explained that Zane’s crazy tongue meant he was an artist. We haven’t googled it yet — it’s not true unless the internet tells us it is — but that sounds as good as any other explanation. Shortly after we first got Zeke a black spot developed on his tongue. Somewhat concerned we consulted the internet and it told us that a black spot on a dog’s tongue was a sign of great intelligence.

Who can argue with such sound logic?

Our little artist, plying his trade.

Baby Tongue