Lots of time at the indoor playground in the early part of a cold month. I just don't understand why I have to come away so exhausted from every visit, though. I watch other children, and admittedly I do a little comparing, or sizing-up, to other kids. Other children run to the swings to see how high they can fly, while Nick climbs the chain and tries to unscrew the hinges. Other children zip down the slide as normal, then my son barrels down face first and plows his cranium into the rubber floor. Their kids bounce around inside the inflatable jungle gyms, and Nick crawls under them looking for the vacuum source of hot air. Why!?When Nick can't have something, or loses something, it's high drama. "I'm never ever gonna find my train! It's gone forever," he'll say. This approach has now worked its way into our vernacular as well. "We're never ever gonna find a house! says Brandi." (For those you following along, the home we bid on four months ago experienced severe structural damage due to neglect over the winter, and we moved on. Back to the drawing board!)
But the big moment this month was a real s#*tter (literally). He has closed himself in the bathroom to poo for months, so we think nothing of it. Then, last weekend, we walked in to check on him, and he'd pulled the cup from under the toddler potty, and used it according to specifications. Of course, a celebration ensued, and then we had to take him to the playground to get him off of the potty. But out of nowhere, he finally proved he'd been getting the message all along.
Part of being a dad is now having an excuse to go buy Hot Wheels cars all the time, and claim they are for Nick. I'm trying to shift him from trains to cars, and teach him the proper names. He can recognize a Maverick, a Chevelle, a Grand National and a Camaro on sight (but can't everyone?)
With the weather improving this past week, we got out to the parks alot more (and out of the 'crap home' as we call our apartment.) We enjoyed an afternoon together at Crosby Gardens, the local nature preserve, to watch the swans and ducks and wildlife. Nick is into the waterfall, and feeding the squirrels (they're going to carry him and his granola bar away if he's not careful, if the 20-lb geese don't pummel him first for infringing on their territory.) We finished the evening with a gourmet meal of pre-cooked rotisserie chicken and a box of peanut butter Oreos. That's the difference between Daddy versus Mama providing dinner.
Finally, I know there's a point at which kids transition from 'Mommy and
Daddy' to 'Mom and Dad' but I didn't expect it to be at three years old. All of sudden, I'm just known as 'Dad'. We went from, "I love you, Daddy," to "Hey, Dad, where's the remote?" overnight. This is fine, but he'd be wise to smooth-up to his mother for a little while longer.Pics here.
- Jason
