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Thursday, May 22nd, 2014
3 years, 6 months.
It’s official: You have a nose… and it works!
This whole time, I seriously thought there was a good chance you were born without a sense of smell. But I didn’t want to say anything to anyone about it or draw attention to that fact… a fact that was, in fact, just fiction.
(Thanks to Wikipedia, I learned the word for not having a sense of smell: anosmia.)
But now I know, that does not apply to you. All of the sudden, around the time you turned 3 and a half, it’s like the switch came on.
You were just a late bloomer in a world that indeed has different smells.
Before your nose started working, it was like you only knew smells based on their sounds…
These days, it’s like your nose is the first on the scene!
Yesterday morning on the way to school, you asked me, “Daddy, do you smell that?”
I answered honestly that I did not.
You didn’t like my response, mainly because you are ready now for a vacation from school, so you were quite sensitive:
“No Daddy! You do smell that! You do!”
I decided to agree with you.
What’s funny about your newfound sense of smell is that it’s like you don’t yet appear to recognize whether something smells good or bad.
In other words, you don’t get all worked up over bad smells. “Bad” is just another flavor of the smelling rainbow. It’s probably just next to bananas or Play-Doh.
Your main concern is making sure that whatever you are smelling, you’re not smelling it alone.
The switch has been flipped on. You can officially smell things now.
One day, you will learn to (not) appreciate the concept that indeed, certain things smell better than others.
Until then, I will let you figure out on your own which are which.
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Thursday, May 1st, 2014
3 years, 5 months.
This morning you were so excited to take your pet dog, Chi-chi, to school. He (or is it she?) has an “on” switch which causes it to walk across the floor and bark/chirp. It’s pretty hilarious.
But since you and your friends are 3 and a half, it’s pretty much as awesome as me finding out yesterday why “A113″ shows up in nearly every Disney/Pixar movie.
You were so eager to show Chi-Chi to your friends, I was actually a bit surprised. I feared that you might freak out as a mob of your classmates would begin going crazy for your toy.
I thought it would bother you. I thought you might quickly get possessive.
That’s not at all what happened. Instead, I saw the look on your face as 7 or 8 of your friends all circled around you in amazement of your toy.
Never was there a sign of concern as Chi-Chi (and ultimately, you) were the hit of the party.
I saw joy in your eyes as you witnessed your friends playing with and passing around the toy you brought to share with them.
You brightened their day. That made you happy.
And it made me happy too.
When we got home, I saw on Facebook that my friend Holly, from college, had messaged me:
Nick, i just had to let you know that of all the compliments I received on my pink hair picture, your son requesting a second viewing makes me feel the coolest. Hope you’re doing well!
A few days ago, Holly had posted this new picture of herself with some temporary pink hair dye. (Being half-Norwegian and half-Swedish, her hair is normally light blonde.)
You caught a glimpse of the picture on my laptop as I was scrolling through Facebook and were pretty fascinated by this seemingly magical girl with the pink hair. I let Holly know that:
“My son Jack likes your hair so much, he just asked to see your picture again!”
Of the 20-something comments and 70-something “likes” she received from that picture, your comment made her feel the coolest. Enough for her to take the time to let me know, several days later.
And if you can believe it, the fact that you made her day by asking to see her picture a 2nd time… well, it made my day.
Twice in the same couple of hours, I saw first-hand how you simply brightened other people’s days.
It makes me so proud that you are such a sweet boy. I don’t think I was that caring and giving when I was your age.
Yeah, you make me proud.
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Tuesday, June 28th, 2011
In every situation, before every action, I must ask myself, “W.W.J.D?” No, I don’t need a bracelet to remind myself to consider what Jack would do. Now that he is crawling, and therefore exploring the new world, I am overly aware of all the trouble that Jack can get himself into. Because granted, by law of babyhood, a baby boy will without exception gravitate towards the item of the most potential danger.
Why would Jack want to be entertained by an age-appropriate singing toy when he can get his hands into my laptop cords? Why would he choose to simply play with a paper towel roll when he could eat it (!) instead? Yeah, needless to say, after one solid week of enjoyment, Jack’s beloved paper towel roll as made its way into that glorious toy box in the sky. He only ate part of it, but still, he ate part of it!
Jack with his Pappy and Nonna (my parents) on Memorial Day 2011.
By default, Jack chooses the most dangerous option over any safe one every time. Therefore, I must do his decision making for him. Not only must I intervene on a moment-to-moment basis, but I must also put my future-predicting skills to good use. I must prevent the accident before it happens. And I must do this constantly.
We recently had to officially lower his crib because not only did he begin bumping his head on the rail by pulling himself up, but also because we wouldn’t put it past him to be able to climb up his crib and fall out on the ground.
One morning last week, Jack and I were awake before Jill. As a joke, I lifted him out of the crib and let him start crawling. He crawled out of his bedroom and past the doorway of our bedroom. Jill’s instincts kicked in: She instantly woke up when she heard him crawl up to the doorway.
My plan worked: She thought Jack actually escaped the crib on his own! The prank was successful and boy was I cool.
But while it was a tad far-fetched that Jack would escape his crib unharmed, it’s not that impossible knowing Jack. He’s sort of an escape artist.
I know every parent believes their kid is the smartest ever; and I’m no different. But the boy seriously impresses me in his ability to figure stuff out without assistance from his parents. He’s large for his age, he’s strong, and he loves to explore.
Lesson learned: Never underestimate the ability of Jack. That includes him eating cardboard.
Jack’s paper towel roll toy
June 16, 2011 – June 24, 2011
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