Posts Tagged ‘
Tuesday, September 10th, 2013
2 years, 9 months.
I remember what it was like being about your age; thinking that spinning myself dizzy in the living room was like the coolest thing ever.
If I remember correctly, my parents would have to warn me to stop; mainly because they never knew what I was about to knock myself into and, therefore, knock over.
Well, that’s what’s new in your life right now. This is your “I want to see how dizzy I can get and still stand up” phase.
Sunday afternoon I watched you get the biggest thrill out of repeatedly spinning yourself dizzy as Thomas and Friends played in the background.
Again, I can relate to what you’re experiencing. That was me about 30 years ago. Now it’s you.
However, I think I killed enough brain cells doing it, that now, I can’t stand being dizzy.
It’s one of the most annoying things in the world, to me.
I get dizzy so easily that I nearly got dizzy following you around to take these pictures of you spinning. (Even just looking at these pictures is making me sort of dizzy!)
It was hard to get a good shot of you because you were spinning so fast!
But you’re a kid. You still think spinning around until you fall on the floor is a fun thing to do.
You might as well live it up, until you get your fill like I have.
Back in the 1980′s when I was a kid, there were such things as merry-go-rounds, which were a playground device that allowed several kids to spin on a moving wheel platform on the ground, while a few other kids pushed them as hard as they could.
Of course, I would always try to jump off while the merry-go-round was going its fastest. And I never got hurt.
I guess, though, some kids did, and their parents sued and won some good money. Because I haven’t seen a merry-go-round in about 20 years.
To everything there is a season. This is your season to be dizzy.
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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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Wednesday, December 26th, 2012
2 years, 1 month.
While I am quick to tell you all the things you’re good at, I have to be honest with you today: You’re officially not good at playing like a girl.
The picture to the right might imply that you are a 2 year-old boy who enjoys a good old-fashioned tea party. However, let me remind you what I said in The Masculine Version Of A Tea Party, Part 1:
“You are wired to choose action involving crashes and messes, not role-playing a sophisticated brunch.”
Turns out, I was right.
As you played with your cousin Calla’s new tea set on Christmas, you quickly pretended to eat all the icing off the plastic cupcakes and see how fast you could gulp down the invisible tea.
It was a cupcake cake eating contest, with tea to wash it all down… and you won, fair and square!
Immediately after, you moved on to Calla’s new dollhouse. It didn’t take you long to discover that there was a handle on the toilet in the bathroom you could press down to hear it flush.
Needless to say, the dollhouse quickly became more like a truck stop.
Later you decided to check out your cousin’s new Disney princess tent with her and Mommy.
As you can see in the picture here, you helped transform the event into Jack’s Jump House. It only took about 7 minutes before you bumped heads with Calla and ended the rockin’ party before its prime.
So while certain dads might raise an eyebrow to see their son so easily playing with pink foo foo girls’ toys, not me.
Because I know you simply make a joke out of anything a princess would find enticing.
Instead, you’re the king of the playground and all the world is your stage.
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Monday, November 12th, 2012
I am a self-proclaimed “people watcher.” To be honest, I’m never not people watching.
It’s like every person is a character and every conversation is a plot line. Basically, life is a non-stop sitcom.
This afternoon while at the neighborhood playground with my son, a young playmate approached a fellow parent nearby:
“Hi, my name is [let's just call him Michael] and I am 4 years old.”
The kid sounded like he was trying out for a Welch’s grape juice commercial in 1995.
A few minutes later, the kid introduces himself to me too. I smiled and said, “Nice to meet you.” Then I turned away to help my own son down the slide.
“Two more minutes and then we’re going home,” I heard the boy’s mother say to him.
Exactly two minutes later, she followed up on her promise: “Okay, time to go now. I told you two minutes ago.”
He pretended not to hear her, so she pretended to leave the playground without him.
And his response?
“NO! No, no, no! NO! I DO NOT like you anymore, Mommy!”
So the irony in this people watching scene was that the little boy who appeared to be a well-mannered child ended up morphing minutes later into “that kid.”
But hey, who’s not to say that my son seemed weird to other parents there at the playground?
After all, he was the kid who illegally went down the slide backwards, about 27 times in a row. (I was so proud of that little goober!)
Not to mention, what about me? I’m the dad who stands at the top of the slide to assist my son once he climbs up there, making sure he doesn’t fall off the 6 foot drop.
Perhaps to other people watchers, being my son’s personal stunt coach seems odd in what is considered normal and appropriate for parents at the playground.
That’s why it’s fun to people watch. You get to see a lot of interesting people do a lot of curious things. Likewise, you get to entertain others who think you are an interesting person doing curious things.
On second thought, maybe that’s not a good thing.
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