"I Don't Want to be a Big Boy Anymore."

These are the words Tide uttered just last night. This after missing the little football that was thrown to him by R, which proceeded to hit him in the lip. No blood, no swelling, no marks or evidence of any kind, that is except Tide's declaration that he no longer wanted the Big Boy status. He came over to me crying, and I assured him he was fine, while trying to not laugh at his distraughtness. Yes, he was tired.

We had a very rough experience on Saturday when our boat broke while we were 15 miles offshore. We made it in safely, which is what is important. However, when we reached what I thought to be our destiny to start fishing, (which ended up being our turning point to head back in), I sighed out a "Holy Shit". (It had been a very hard rough ride --- bad seas) Tide immediately repeated the same sigh laided voice with his own "Holy Shit". Ah, I have a parrot.

No, no parrot. I was in the shower the other morning, R and Tide were on our bed. R was teaching Tide how to change the TV channels with the remote. Tide apparently buzzed past his "airplane movie", (a cartoon he calls that), and he couldn't get it back. "Oh, Shit!" Tide exclaimed. R asked, what he said, Tide enunciated "Oh, Shhh-IT!". R asked one more time, Tide slowly said it again, at which time R told him not to say that again.

So, Tide is scared of his closet. All in all his transition from the crib to his own bed AND room has gone very smoothly. Shy of this fear of what may be in his closet. The closet does not have a door on it. (it's on our to-do list) Randomly through the day or night Tide will make comments about his closet. The other day he looked at me and asked for a door for his closet. I told him we'd get one the next time we go to Home Depot. He looked up and said there's a door, pointing to our bedroom door, there's another door, pointing to our closet door... love his logic.