Archive for the ‘
Growing Up ’ Category
Thursday, June 6th, 2013
2 years, 6 months.
When we pull into our neighborhood each afternoon, there are two ways to drive to our house: Turn right and get there quicker, or continue going straight for the slightly longer scenic route that circles around.
Of course, every day you say, “Go straight! Go straight!”
Then I respond with, “Go straight, what?”
(“Please” is the implied answer, obviously.)
Upon request, I always go straight to appease you. But Tuesday, you were distracted by the commercial airplane flying right over us (we basically live in the landing path of the Nashville airport) so I just turned right to save time.
“No, Daddy! NO! Go straight! Straight, Daddy!” you protested.
But I had already committed to my right turn and we had already been in the car nearly an hour by that point. I didn’t turn back around and “go straight.”
Therefore, you began crying real tears, so emotionally caught up that you could barely hear through my remedy as we sat in the parked car in front of our house:
“Jack, just calm down a little bit and we’ll go inside and see Mommy. I didn’t go straight today but it’s okay. I can’t always give you exactly what you want, when you want it. I need you to be okay with that. All you have to do right now is calm down a little bit and I’ll get you out of your seat.”
Basically, you had to stay in a 4 minute impromptu “strapped in the car seat” time-out session with me as I listened to classic 1984 Bruce Springsteen, but not your favorite song of his, “Dancing In The Dark.”
It’s similar to the assigned seats you’ve given Mommy and I on the couch. If I sit on the wrong end of the couch, you often get so upset that the end result is me turning off the laptop; meaning you can’t finish watching monster trucks clip on YouTube.
My lesson is typically and simply this: Just chill out and you’ll get what you want from me, most of the time.
But I have to know you’re okay with letting the answer be “no” sometimes, because the more you’re okay with “no,” the more likely I am to say “yes” the next time.
Needless to say, the day after your “Daddy, go straight!” meltdown/time-out in the car situation, you immediately said, “Daddy, you go straight? Please?” as soon as we turned into our neighborhood. Nice planning and prevention on your part, Son.
You got your way. Maybe my plan is slowly working.
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Sunday, March 17th, 2013
2 years, 4 months.
Since I took you to Shipwrecked, your favorite indoor playhouse in the Nashville area, for the past two weeks you kept asking me, “I go back to Shipwrecked? I drive Buzz?”
So yes, you finally got your wish yesterday. You got to drive Buzz. And boy did you enjoy it… I think…
Last time, I explained how you drove the Lightning McQueen car like a crotchety old man. Driving Buzz was the same way for you.
Clearly you were just there for business, not pleasure.
Your objective was to drive the Buzz Lightyear car from one side of the indoor playground to other, without any other kids trying to take it away from you.
Based on the look on your face in the picture above, I’d say you did a pretty good job of scaring them off. I’m sure you made it clear you weren’t there to make friends… but just to drive Buzz.
Fortunately, after you accomplished your mission, you starting interacting with the other kids there. You abandoned Buzz for the ball pit, the train table, the book nook, and the building blocks.
You didn’t even mind that other kids drove Buzz during the rest of our 2 and a half hour session.
I guess we could say you are learning to share, despite being an only child right now.
Well, this is a start, at least.
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Sunday, March 10th, 2013
2 years, 3 months.
While learning to walk really is a big deal, I feel like I never hear of any parents talking about the first time their kid runs.
I’m not referring to walking fast. I’m not talking about jogging a few steps before falling down. Instead, I mean running.
Today was the first time where your updated motor skills had the opportunity to be tested on an open course. Mommy and I took you to a huge park with virtually no physically boundaries.
You just got to wander wherever you wanted to today; you’re so not used to that. Granted, we were about 15 feet behind and/or in front of you the whole time.
Mommy and I joked that you ran your first 5 K today. Once you started running, and realized you could do it without falling and hearing us trying to stop you, you didn’t want to stop- so you didn’t.
Just like Forrest Gump.
I just didn’t know a 2 year-old could run for 20 minutes straight. It’s like you were trying to burn off all the calories from your goldfish crackers for the past week. If so, you were successful.
As one would predict, you were ready for bed early tonight. That worked out pretty conveniently since yesterday was Daylight Savings Time so technically I had to put you to bed an hour early.
You pretty much snubbed the playground for the opportunity to run the whole time. As much as you like dogs, you weren’t that fascinated by any of them you saw today. You were only semi-impressed by seeing kites for the first time.
Running made you very happy today. This seems like the perfect cure for your typical Sunday afternoon antsy-ness. Just let you run in a park until you heart is content.
Honestly, I’m nearly more excited about you running for the first time than when you learned to walk.
Walking is so last year anyway.
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Monday, February 25th, 2013
2 years, 3 months.
Today I took a really late lunch from work so I could drive you to the nearby park, just down the street from your daycare and from where my office is.
It was 2:40 and you had just woken up from your nap, so I’m pretty sure you thought you might still be dreaming since I don’t regularly get the opportunity to see you during the workday.
As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, you set your sights on your goal… the big boy slide.
The only way to get to that 7 foot tall slide was to go up the climbing wall.
I placed my hands around your waist, allowing you to reach for the grips and pull yourself up.
You instantly turned around to me and resisted: “I want to do it.”
I pulled my hands away where you could no longer feel them but where they were close enough in case you fell.
About three seconds passed… “I need help.”
That situation happens several times a day now. Whether it’s opening a fruit snack or putting on your shoes, you have to attempt to do it yourself first, then you’ll ask me to do it.
These days I just need to remember to assume you want to do everything yourself. I suppose it’s pretty much a waste of time for me to even try to help you, because I know what will happen:
“I want to do it… I need help.”
This is the stage where you are realizing you can actually do some stuff yourself. You don’t actually need me for everything anymore.
It’s like each situation is a new pickle jar to be opened.
I am your OnStar, your tech support, and your extra muscles.
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Sunday, December 30th, 2012
2 years, 1 month.
I now wrap up the year 2012 with a noteworthy milestone in your life: Mommy and I just tucked you in for the night, for the first time… in your “big boy bed.”
No more crib for you. You have graduated into the day bed version.
Look how proud you are in this picture!
At long last, you are now sleeping like a 2 year-old, not a baby.
Son, tonight was your Bed Mitzvah.
This change in your life also is aligned with your parents’ more deliberate focus on helping your become potty trained.
Yesterday at T. J. Maxx, Mommy and I bought you 3 metal Chuggington trains. We explained to you that for the next 3 times you go pee-pee on the potty, you get to open a new train. (Sure, it’s an unavoidable pun: We’re potty training you.)
As an added bonus, you have recently received a surprisingly relevant gift last week that helps you sleep easier for your naps… a Thor indoor play tent.
It’s random because you have no idea who Thor is yet. You call it your tunnel.
“I can sleep in my tunnel?”
While attempting to get you to go to sleep for your afternoon naps on the weekends has always been a struggle, this new “tunnel” of yours is a pretty cool thing.
It has a side door which I pop my head in to read you a quick story. You never seem to mind when I slip out the door afterwords. Two hours later, you wake up and you’re ready to play again.
I just wish we would have known the wonders of a tunnel sooner!
So between your new “big boy bed” and your “tunnel,” I’d say things are pretty exciting in the world of sleeping, for you.
To this day, whenever Mommy and I ask you if you’re ready to go to sleep, as we can clearly see you are, you’ve never said yes.
Here’s to my wishful thinking that might change now that you’ve had your Bed Mitzvah…
I know, it’s asking too much.
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