I have been acutely aware lately of how quickly I forget the clever and striking things Lliam says and does. I often find myself grasping at the vague notion that he said something I desperately want to remember. So, here is an attempt to capture recent moments of Lliam-ism.
Today, Holly and I went to the Livermore downtown art and wine festival, and our original plan was to leave Lliam at home with Will. Lliam so desperately wanted to go, crying in the driveway with a wrinkled look of anguish that only a practiced toddler can make. We told him we were going, and I tried closing the car door with him on the other side of it, only to find that he had managed to wedge himself under my arm and into my lap. "You're breaking my heart," Holly lamented to Lliam. This was too much to bear, so we brought Lliam with us with the promise that Will would soon follow and pick Lliam up so that we could enjoy the festival sans boat anchor.
Later that evening, Lliam was getting pretty cranky owing to the nap-less afternoon. He took a little spill on the stairs, only increasing the decibels. As he sat on my lap whimpering, he said "I'm breaking Holly's heart." it only took a moment to realize that he made the connection that the act of crying and looking pitiful would elicit such a reaction from his auntie.