Posts Tagged ‘
Tuesday, May 28th, 2013
2 years, 6 months.
For the past two weeks, while riding in the car with me to and from school, you had been asking for a black van.
I have no idea why. It’s not like you saw a cool black van or something.
So with Nonna and Papa (my parents) coming up for Memorial Day weekend, I figured I should let them know in case they could find one of my old childhood toys to suffice.
The plan worked, basically.
Papa found an old Tonka van of mine from circa-1985, but it was silver and red.
So he used a can of black spray paint and made it the right color.
Your “new” black van has snazzy red interior and has these cool “window walls.”
Yes, you were quite impressed.
As for me, however, I jokingly referred to your new toy as a “creeper van.”
It’s just that when I was young, I was taught to never go near big black vans with no windows in the very back… for safety reasons.
Similarly, though I have a nostalgic fascination of ice cream trucks, in reality, I have a distrust for the people who drive them… or big black vans with no windows in the very back.
I don’t want to be prejudiced towards anyone about anything, but if I said that I’m not leery of certain seemingly peculiar people in certain seemingly peculiar situations, then I would be lying.
Just a few days ago I told the story about how I myself creep out other parents when I do pull-ups at the playground on my lunch break; without you there with me.
However, I don’t feel judged by those parents. Actually, I totally get it. I just think it’s funny.
Does being a good parent make someone more judgmental, prejudice, and untrusting of others?
I can only speak for myself; and if I do, then that probably technically makes me prideful because I am assuming I am a good parent.
Somewhat interestingly, I admit I might come across as judgmental, prejudiced, and untrusting of others because of the fact that I see big black vans as “red flags.”
I call it being wisely protective. Others may see it as judgmental… but does that make them judgmental? I don’t know.
Clearly, I don’t have any answers. I’m just asking questions today.
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Friday, May 24th, 2013
2 years, 6 months.
I recently took you by my office on a Saturday morning while Mommy was buying groceries.
After all, it seems a little weird that though your daycare is just on the other side of the red light, you’ve never really gotten to see what it’s like inside that brown brick building where Daddy works.
Once you saw my chair and computer, you knew just what to do… except for that darn “Ctrl+Alt+Del” screen.
It wasn’t long before you realized you wouldn’t have the opportunity to watch any monster trucks on YouTube, so you got bored and wanted to watch me fill a Styrofoam cup with water in the break room.
Then, you were ready to go. So we left. (Granted, it was nice having my co-workers comment on you being a handsome little boy.)
And that’s my story about what it was like taking my 2 and a half year-old to work.
While that random Saturday morning may have seemed uneventful at the time, it wasn’t. It served as a model for you to follow in your playtime.
This week you scooted your new Thomas the Train trike down the hall into the living room and declared, “I go to work!”
You parked your “monster truck” (Thomas the Train trike) near the closet, then stood up, trying to figure out what pretending to work is supposed to look like.
“Jack, what do you do at work?” I asked.
Your response, with a clever smile:
“I play with kitty cats!” You ran over to your favorite plush cat doll and lifted it above your head like Link finding one of the fragments of the Triforce, then announced, “I found one!”
So from what I understand, your job is not only to play with kitties, but more importantly, finding them like Easter Eggs.
I don’t think you quite understand yet what Mommy and I do all day at work. For all I know, I figure you assume it’s like a daycare for adults.
Well, actually… maybe in some ways it is.
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Monday, May 20th, 2013
2 years, 6 months.
On Mother’s Day, Mommy and I took you to your very first baseball game. Coincidentally, the Nashville Sounds (our family’s home team) was playing the Sacramento River Cats (Mommy’s hometown team).
I almost have to use the word “miraculous” here to describe how long you lasted: You watched the game for 30 whole minutes!
Mommy and I were so impressed that as a 2 and a half year-old, you were able to pay attention to the game without wanting to get out of your seat for that long.
Seriously, you watched the game for 30 straight minutes!
Though, I should admit, you were due for a nap. So your drowsiness was countered by the fact that a real baseball game was going on right in front of you.
Not to mention, Ozzy, the mascot for the Nashville Sounds, came by to visit all the kids in the bleachers.
I’m pretty sure I actually convinced you that we had just visited him in the zoo the day before.
You didn’t really question why a giant cat who was creeping along the ground one day at the zoo, would be so friendly, walking upright and in uniform, and so happy to meet you the very next day.
But you rolled with it.
Then, you realized there was a whole stadium to explore. You were mesmerized (!) by the “tractors” (glorified golf carts) you found.
Mommy and I literally had to snap you out of your gaze on them:
“Jack? Jack! Let’s go…”.
And so you did. You discovered that the ramp of the deck served as a great “hill” for your red Hot Wheels car to race down.
Interestingly, that was the first toy car we ever bought you, exactly a year ago.
Now you have like 53 of them; many of which currently serve as the crushable cars for your monster trucks.
Mommy and I secured both ends of the ramp to make sure you didn’t escape us in all your excitement.
As for your “sock giraffe” that I bought Mommy on our honeymoon in New Hampshire nearly five years ago, you felt it was necessary he shared every adventure of the baseball game with you.
Along the way, you caught the attention of a sweet older man who was running the ticket gate:
“Hang on, little guy. I think I have something for you in the back.”
He handed you an official baseball that the Nashville Sounds had used for their practice.
As seen in the picture of you holding the ball, you were a bit confused on why you were getting a free gift that didn’t come wrapped in plastic or that didn’t require a trip to Target.
Or involve you earning it by going potty.
But again, you rolled with it.
I was thinking today about this. Something I really miss, as a 32 year-old man, is experiencing a version of life where everything is new and exciting and mysterious.
As for you, the kid, the boy wonder, you get to wake up to new adventures every day.
Dinosaurs are real.
A big cat lives in the zoo but serves as a baseball team’s mascot on the side.
Your imagination has no limits because the universe is truly magical.
I miss that.
It’s funny how these thoughts can stem from a baseball game.
I suppose that’s part of the reason that baseball games are so intertwined with American tradition and nostalgia.
Watching a baseball game at a stadium is like being taken through a portal where life seems both completely familiar yet completely brand new.
Maybe some would say it’s just a baseball game.
I have a feeling you understand where I’m coming from on this one.
Oh, and needless to say, you slept the whole way home… next to your baseball, of course.
P.S. To see more pictures of your first baseball game, go to The Dadabase Facebook page and click on the picture folder, Zoo and Baseball 2013.
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Thursday, May 16th, 2013
2 years, 6 months.
I no longer have a 2 year-old son. As of today, I can start referring to you as my “2 and a half year-old.”
You are just as close to your (assumed) monster truck & dinosaur themed 3 year-old birthday party as you are to your Thomas the Train themed 2 year-old birthday party.
I look at you now and see how you’re clearly looking more like both Mommy and me.
Sure, the (now darkening) blonde hair and blue eyes are still a surprise, but gone are the days when I would write about how you don’t really look like either of your parents.
Something I was thinking about this week is how in classic sitcoms, by around the 5th season, the family would typically have another child, to better engage the audience with fresh new story lines.
From there, the next season would feature the zaniness of life with a new infant and baby. Then magically, the following season, that toddler who could barely talk instantly became a wise-crackin’, catch-phrase coinin’ 5 year-old.
In other words, producers of classic sitcoms evidently had reason to believe that the ages between about 2 and 5 were not interesting enough to entertain.
Okay… here we are. Let’s find out. As a 2 and a half year-old, falling in the category of what I call “the flyover years,” will life still be interesting? Will you still be just as funny and entertaining to Mommy and me as you’ve been for the past 2 and a half years?
I’m thinking yes.
I’m eager to prove writers of classic sitcoms wrong, as if that’s even a thing that matters.
If you were a character in a family sitcom in 1988, you would be replaced today by a different, older actor.
Well, I’m keeping you. I predict life won’t skip a beat, even if you’re entering the flyover years.
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Friday, May 3rd, 2013
2 years, 5 months.
For the past two weeks on the way home from school, the two of us have been swinging by Walmart each day. Why?
Not because you, a nearly 2 and a half year-old boy, are zeroed in on finding a certain elusive toy, but because your 32 year-old dad is.
The exact toy I am referring to is none other than a $8.97 monster truck, exclusive to Walmart: The I-Screamer, which is an ice cream monster truck.
This basic $8.97 version is so elusive that I couldn’t even find a picture or video of him on the Internet. Oy vey!
As you know, Mater wrestles and defeats the I-Screamer in Mater’s Tall Tales.
I don’t want the big, fancy, action-packed version that costs 20 bucks or more. I just want the cheap one that is comparable in size to your favorite black one, that you carry my old Micro Machines in.
Working in the logistics side of the transportation industry, I know that most dry goods are moved out of the warehouses by the end of the month, to prepare for the new month.
So that means… the I-Screamer is waiting there in the back of the store right now; it’s just a matter of the new shipment being stocked on the shelves.
Therefore, you and I show up every single day, hoping that today is the day. In fact, today we went before and after I took you to school. No luck.
Not to mention, I’ve got your Nana, back in Alabama, as well as your friend Sophie’s mom, looking for the I-Screamer for us.
I’m trying to figure out why I’m so obsessed with getting myself, I mean, you, a monster ice cream truck that sort of resembles a crazy clown.
All I can think of is this: Back in high school, one of my favorite bands was The Smashing Pumpkins. The video for their song, “Today,” features the band driving around in an ice cream truck.
I even considered buying an old ice cream truck from one of my uncles, as my first car when I was 16. It didn’t end up actually happening, but I suppose I’ve never really let go of my love for ice cream trucks, and that was half my life ago.
Yeah, I’ve got issues.
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