Liam learned a new word today: corn. Some words he picks up so quickly, and applies them with such immediacy that it makes my head spin.

He was a big fan of it, both raw and cooked. It made for a nice, positive part of an otherwise very unhappy day for him, poor kid. Everything seemed to go wrong for him. Even when we couldn’t tell how it had gone wrong, he made sure to let us know he was unhappy about whatever it was. He didn’t want to eat, or drink, or lie down, or snuggle, or play, or read, or anything we suggested. And inevitably, when he decided on something to do, we had to stop him because it was going to either hurt him (and the number of really bad bruises on the left side of his face already point to what a klutz he’s been these past two days) or something else (like the cello, for example, because one does not pull up on the bridge, or hit the instrument with the bow, or attempt to pull the points of the f-holes out with bare hands).

Corn on the cob makes everything happy, though, even if it’s just for a little while. And although I put him down wide awake, he seems to have been content to quietly read his books to Bun-Bun (the toy formerly known as Presto, AKA the Magic Rabbit; Liam calls him Bun-Bun and that’s good enough for us) and fall asleep on his own.