The Weekly Gus #1

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Kids change fast. It’s a thing. But this week, Gus has done some funny things, and I wanted to document them this summer, when I’m spending so much time with him. So here’s essentially a newsletter filled with Gus’ greatest hits.


Warning: Gus is a toddler, and I think it would be difficult to share toddler stories without the mention of bodily fluids, so if you’re not a fan, maybe skip the first two stories.


After dropping Ries off at HPE, Gus and I headed to Super Target to find some trash bags and a few other new apartment essentials.

When we got to the store, I couldn’t find Gus’ shoes, and figured I must have left them at home.

Whatever. I threw him in the cart.

Of course, an hour into my coffee, I have to go to the bathroom.

I realize I can’t put Gus down on the bathroom floor with no shoes or socks on, so I proceeded to hold him (he’s a big dude—over thirty pounds last time he was weighed) while I did my business. I stand up, and lift him up with one arm so I can pull up my pants (one handed.) He looks behind me into the toilet and exclaims, “OH POOP.”

There were probably three other women in the stalls, so we just waited for them to leave before we left the stall.


Another day, after running errands, I decided to stop by the Fort Collins visitor center to get some information about cool things to do in the area. We go in and an older gentleman is manning the place. He seems pretty shy, so I just keep talking at him, and he started engaging a little more.

Gus comes up to me and says, “Poop,” so I excuse us so we can go do a diaper change in the car, because Gus has indeed gone number two.

Get him out to the car, put him on the passenger’s seat, and little bud decides to take off his own diaper, causing the poop to fall out of the diaper, out of the car, and then it proceeded to roll down the street of downtown Fort Collins during lunch hour while I chase it with a Clorox wipe.

Yep.

We finally get that situation under control, and go back in.

I’m talking to the older gentleman again, and Gus pulls himself up onto a chair and stands on it. As I tell him to sit down, he gets squirrelly and tries to squirm away from me as I approach to pull him off the chair, and ends up falling off over the side of the chair.

Cool.

I think we’re done here.


Friday, Gus asked for milk, which he calls, “gilk,” and then proceeded to pull it out of the fridge to help me. We pour him the milk, and then I hand him the cartons to put back in the fridge. He puts the milk cartons on the correct shelf of the fridge, and then stops to turn both cartons so they are facing outward.

My OCD was real proud.


I rolled my ankle a little bit this week, so I sat down on our couch, propped it up on the coffee table, and pulled a blanket onto my lap. My foot was exposed, so naturally, Gus walked over and covered it with the blanket. I thought that was the sweetest thing ever.


This morning, Gus saw that Whimsy was on top of the kitchen cabinets, and attempted to pull his body onto the counter, counting, “Un, dae, dee!” and then straining his face as he tried his hardest to pull himself up with his tiny arms.

Sorry, bud, you’re gonna have to start lifting weights if you want to move that 98%+ percentile head anywhere.