Things have been pretty quiet lately, unless you count Jackson's new affection for yelling "COME GET ME!" at two in the morning, or having a coughing fit and then refusing all attempts to administer Robitussin until I hide a shot in a cup of juice, and then flopping around sleeplessly in my spot in bed for half an hour until, tired of trying to sleep balanced on a two-inch strip of mattress, I take him back to his crib and sit leaning on the rail with my hand on his back until the coughing subsides and he finally sleeps again, giving me time to outline a brilliant series of young adult real estate murder mystery novels in my head, the plots of which I will not remember in the morning.

Except for all of that, and the fact that he's inventing a new language.

A. If Jackson runs up to you, jumps his legs out wide, balls his hands into fists, squints his eyes, and yells, "Ton-TATE!" be prepared to block a fist with your forearm or you will get socked in the eye.

2. If Jackson balances on the arm of the sofa with a plastic sword in his hand and starts chanting, "HOIN-ka, HOIN-ka, HOIN-ka" don't be alarmed, it just means that he's going to start jumping on the sofa cushions until he either falls on the floor or jumps belly-first on the back of the couch, hugs it with his knees, and says, "HEY! LOOK AT ME! I'M SPIDERMAN!"