Of pioneers and pudding

We tried going on a walk this afternoon, Rich and I, but it didn’t last long. I about froze to death and lost some feeling in my legs and feet. We discovered most of the sidewalks are not very traversable and had to walk the street a few times. I headed down a particular block not far from the apartment and decided halfway down the block that we should just go home because it was so bitter cold. Every time I looked at him in his crazy-poofy coat, he had a serious face and he looked forward—you know, that determined pioneer look. But when he would see me, I’d smile and he’d smile. (Every time we bundle him up, he looks like Randy from A Christmas Story, by the way. It usually frustrates him, but then he accepts it when he gets outside and feels the cold.)

He tried pudding today. Not sure if it’s his first time, but probably. Anyway, he LOVED it. As with most new things, he began with a look of disgust when it hit his mouth, but this quickly turned into grunting (meaning, "I want more!"). Gobbled it all up in a heartbeat. He loved it so much that when Karen ate some later, he wanted down from my arms so that he could walk to his mom and get more.