Christmas presence

Dylan,

UPDATE: photo added

I opened a big box full(!) of presents from GG and Papa Russ the other night (which filled all the space under our tree with thirteen(!) individually wrapped packages). "For Dylan", you said, pointing. Some were for you, but I said you had to wait until Christmas.

This seems like a good time to point out that Mom suggested it wasn't a good idea to take all the gifts out of the big box so early and then leave them on the floor for a week, but I brushed off her concerns.

-----

I got up (early) with you the next morning. You ate breakfast and got hooked on a Thomas video. I left to take a shower.

After a nice long shower I noticed two things immediately: 1)mom was still in bed, and 2)I couldn't hear any sound coming from the living room. The only question that came to mind was "how many?"

The answer was "more than I would count". You had gotten into the shipping box, spilled the packing popcorn all over the floor and were happily tearing the stuffing out of the stuffing, as it were.




Dad

bicycle

Dylan,

Last weekend you dragged your little bicycle (with training wheels) out of the garage and could actually turn the pedals.

Four weeks ago you could reach 'em but not turn 'em. Now you're riding all the way up the block to visit friends. You've got the steering down pretty well, too.

Dad

while you were sleeping

D,

One night last week while you were already asleep, a poisonous centipede about 6-7" long managed to crawl in under the front door. Mom just happened to get up from her late night reading and find it in the kitchen, just inches from the door to your tiny room. Though on the other side of the door, it was found not more than 2 feet from where you were asleep.

Uncle Marc (who had experienced a centipede several times larger while in Sri Lanka) ably removed it. Well, sort of. He very ably captured it and put it on display in his own room for a while until -- at Mom's repeated insistence -- he finally removed it a good distance from our unit (where he continued its display by leaving it in an overturned clear plastic cup beneath a rock.

As insects go, it was very impressive. But it's a scary thing when some small thing with such potential for harm can wriggle within such proximity to you. It reminds us that no amount of vigilance over your care, your protection, and your safety is to excess.

Dad

mexico nap

Dylan,

It's been routine for many months now to take your naps at "home" in the car. At nap time we put you in the car, you fall asleep and we park you in the garage.

In Mexico this just wasn't going to be an option, so you and I had a little talk. I told you that in Mexico we take naps in our beds, not in the car. And I said what that meant for you was taking your naps in the Pack-N-Play we brought with us. You indicated that you understood, so to be sure I asked you where you were going to take your nap that day. You pointed at the Pack-N-Play and said, "there". I said "Yes. Thank you."

It was a very civilized conversation.

Most every morning when we left the pool I told you we were going to go have lunch and then take a nap. You started calling it a "Mexico nap" and after eating you would actually run to your bedside where I would help you in, cover you and Ivan H. Bear with your ABC blanket, and you'd take it from there.


You've always been an excellent napper at school, but not so good at home. I was really hoping to carry over your "Mexico naps" post-vacation. Mom was able to put you down for a pair of two hour naps this week, in your crib, on your non-school days. Huge. Absolutely huge. Nice job.

Dad

mexico

Dylan,

We spent last week in Mexico on vacation. You spent a lot of time in the pool -- at least once a day, usually twice -- and had a great time climbing up and down stairs, usually pausing to jump from the lowest step.

You impressed a lot of people with your Spanish. It seemed to bring out special smiles when paired with such blond hair and blue eyes.


Dad

tidbit

d,

You sang Happy Birthday to yourself while you ate oatmeal this morning. It included the line "Happy birthday to... years old".

dad

angry

Dylan,

"All done angry?"
"All done angry?"

You weren't cooperating the other day. You were in a precocious mood and started taking playful swipes at my glasses -- one of which took them right off my face.

I told you it made me angry when you did that. It's not a word I normally use with you, but you seem to have gotten a good understanding of it from somewhere.

You backed off, and with your hands together and your head tilted a bit to one side you asked: "all done, all done angry?"

I asked if you were all done hitting me.

"All done angry?"
"All done angry?"

I asked again, and you answered "yes".

"All done angry."
"All done angry."
I said.


Dad

29 lbs

d-

By the way, the official Dr.'s office results have you listed at just 29 pounds (I've been telling people 33-34) and you're 35 inches tall.


dad

very very proud

Dylan,

Mom just called and gave me an update following your doctor appointment this afternoon. She told me how proud she was of you because you did a better job handling that sort of ordeal than she does.

You got two shots in the leg and a blood draw to check your iron level. You stared at the doctor while she checked your mouth, nose, eyes and what all. Then you earned serious trooper points for going down to the lab and enduring another blood draw. Mom was worried because you started the afternoon by waking up early from your nap and at the lab there was nobody to help hold you still if needed. She warned you of one more "poke poke", and you squirmed at first, but then patiently watched the vial fill with your precious red stuff.

Now you're off to the park to play until dark. Hopefully you'll be in a good mood when Uncle James comes over for dinner.

Dad

train story

Dylan,

Mommy used a recent bedtime cuddle session to tell you an impromptu story about a train. So enthralling was this story that you were telling me bits about it -- complete with hand signs -- while I was putting you to bed.

The story has become part of your routine, and it has grown in length and scope. You tell me about the "train that stops" (to pick up little boys and girls and teddy bears and take them over a bridge and into the land of night-night) and has a funnel for steam, and is black. It is real to you like no other story you've been told.

I can hear Mommy right now wrapping up the story, and your subdued voice echoing the colorful details here and there. Time for me to step into your darkened room and give my eyes a chance to adjust before Mom brings you in.

Dad

drawing board

pbj

Dylan,

You've started eating sandwiches. This is something I hadn't thought before to view as a milestone.

Dad

inside the lines

Dylan,

Seemingly upon instinct alone, you've begun coloring inside the lines.

Someone might draw a shape or a matrix of cells on your paper and you'll choose a bordered area to carefully fill with the color of your choice.


Dad

tricycle

Dylan,

You can reach the pedals, but you can't quite make 'em work.




Dad

cuddles

Dylan,

Right now you're snuggling with Mommy.

You think you're being sneaky and delaying your bath. I had just told you the bath was ready and it was time for you to take off your clothes. You responded with "Where Mommy go?". I said she was laying on the bed, just two feet away.

"Cuddles?"

This was a new take on essentially the same maneuver you pull with me sometimes while I'm getting you dressed for bed and you say "Hug?" in a sheepish little voice with matching eyes.

I'm sure in your little head you know that Mommy likes her cuddles and Daddy likes his hugs, and you think you're pulling one over on us -- manipulating a weakness to buy time -- but I'll tell it to ya straight: Dylan, you can use that tactic all you like. If you want to hug me for 10 minutes between putting on your onesie and your sleeper, fine. If you want to cuddle for an hour before bedtime, Mommy's fingers stroking your angel hair, that's fine too. We'll take it while we can get it.

A voluntary hug from you, even as a delay tactic, is invariably a life-defining moment. Your hug could plant a kernel of love even in the heart of darkness. Like a journalist fresh out of school it nails the Who, the What, the When, the Where, and especially the Why. Of pretty much everything.

Good night,

Daddy

farming

Dylan,

You recently wrapped up a "Toddlers on The Farm" program at "Uncle Marc's Farm". You spent a couple hours one day a week touring different aspects of their operation and interacting with the cow, sheep, goats, chickens and roosters, and pigs. It was a very special experience and you loved it.

Your farm visits are one of the many outings, classes, programs, activities, experiences and play dates Mommy has lined up and cobbled together as an expansive and colorful backdrop for your earliest years. Be sure to thank her someday that you turned out so well.


Dad

camera phone

Dylan,

Uncle Ben captured this on our last visit:



Dad

endo

Dylan,

Moments ago you went over the handlebars of your bike for the first time. Well, sort of over them. More like onto them, really.

See, you've (finally) grown just barely enough to propel yourself slowly forward on your little hand-me-down bicycle from Emma and Ian by rubbing the toes of your shoes against the ground one at a time, left right left right.

We had tootled down the sidewalk as far as nearly two whole front yards where we stopped to admire the neighbors aging piles of small landscaping rocks and were on our way home again. You got off balance, then a little tangled, then the bike went down and brought you with it.

You landed over one side of the now slightly twisted handlebars. I picked you up. You were crying and I asked where it hurt. You pointed to the bike. I righted your mount, identified it's owie, and straightened things out with the tiny front tire between my feet, a grip in one hand and you in the other.

Then I carried you both home.

Dad

igotchoo

Dylan,

You love to run around the house and get tickled.

"Running?" you'll walk up to me and say when you want to be chased around the house, me catching and tickling you every so often.

Through your wild, cackling and winded laughter I'll regularly hear you saying "igotchoo, igotchoo".


Dad

backwards

Dylan,

Last night you wanted me to give you a timeout, and you threw a fit when I refused. That's not how it's supposed to work.


Dad

proportions

Dylan,

You've got a long torso and arms. Your legs are a step behind. The other day you were wearing a '3T' shirt with '18 mo.' pants and everything fit just right.

There can be a real benefit to a low center of gravity in certain competitive sports, like soccer. A long reach can make all the difference to a boxer. And the combination of the two can set a wrestler apart.

Just sayin'.

Dad

pumpkin patch

Dad,

Last year Mom took you to see the pumpkins. I guess this was my turn. They had bounce-houses set up and after 20 minutes of jumping you ran from cluster to cluster checking out, and eventually choosing from, the pumpkins.



















Dad

poop

Dylan,

A few weeks ago it occurred to me to show you the contents of your poopy diaper.

I don't remember now if you showed some kind of interest that triggered it, but I realized that you may have never actually seen your own poop. While you were certainly already aware of poop on some level, your seeing it seemed to me a step on the path toward potty-training.

I think you were fairly fascinated. In the days since, you've been much more cooperative about changing a poopy diaper. I think the dreaded discomfort of wet-wipes is outweighed by your curiosity. Now at the suggestion of a diaper change you'll walk yourself right to the changing table and ask, "See it?"

More often than not you'll say, "Big". I think you're either comparing it to the cat poop I recently showed you in our front yard, or I called one of 'em "big" and you just think that's the thing to say.

We've started reading the book "Everyone Poops", which was given to me by my bowling teammates, mostly for laughs, shortly before you were born. We also saw a bear poop (in the middle of a fight) in a video on YouTube and you've mentioned it a couple times since. In part, I'm sure, because I re-played that section and pointed it out to you.

It'll probably be a good while before you're self-sufficient in the elimination department, but awareness has to be at least a step towards progress.


Dad

dirt

Dylan,

This evening I sat across the yard and watched you play in a huge wooden dirt-filled planter. You had a few small (maybe 12 oz) pots, a plastic soup container (probably from Yaya's house) and a blue shovel.

Scoop and dump, scoop and dump you went, slowly filling the large container just to dump it out, then transferring dirt from one small container to another. You were methodical, if not efficient.

Only a child or an artist can move with such purpose in the production of nothing useful.

I'm sure you spent 15 minutes in silence, fully engaged, your synapses firing away smoothly and constantly, just moving tiny bits of earth. Your plastic, battery-powered noisemakers and sundry "educational" toys -- rarely earning such devotion-- are unable to compete with a few gallons of old potting soil.

A boy, playing in the dirt and seeming right at home. It made my day.


Dad

it's late

It's late. At least by Dylan standards.

You're currently in the next room, standing in your crib and crying for "daddy".

You were sound asleep when I went in for the customary nighttime check. After a very fussy evening you cried yourself to sleep three hours ago. Unfortunately, you also managed to poop. The room stunk.

I made the decision to get you into a new diaper.

It went pretty well, all things considered, with a very minimum of fussing until Mom -- who had been holding a tiny flashlight in my aid -- left the room while I slid your feet back into your jammies and zipped you up.

I got you back into the regular routine -- snuggled up in my arms listening to me sing your three songs -- which I stretched out extra-long until you had been still and comfy for a convincing while.

I told you it was night-night time and moved to place you in the crib. You curled your little self around me like never before, resisting, squeezing my rib cage with your knees and elbows so tightly you may have stayed there even had I let go.

I felt as precious to you as you are to me.

dad

keys

d,

Someday you'll have your own set of keys and if history is to be our guide, you'll probably mis-place them often.

I let you play with my keys rather routinely (but not my wallet or my cell phone). I've recently realized on my way out the door a couple of times that I never got them back. You, of course, having long since finished with them, I've had to go hunting. Twice I've found them in the back yard. I should probably start loaning them on an indoor-only basis.

dad

so so much

Dylan,

Sorry for the break. There is so so much to catch up on. For instance, we did go back to the train station and ride the rails. We also went camping, which was loads of fun and inspired many would-be posts. And we took another trip to visit GG and Papa Russ. You loved the Museum of Flight (which you called the "Airplane Store") and saw bunches of HUGE salmon in the Fish Laddder. You've also started forming sentences. You're getting all the way through the alphabet, if not actually including all of the letters. And you were bitten at daycare two times last week(!), though not by the same kid that bit you the two previous times, which is kind of the silver lining in the darkening cloud of daycare.

And oh yeah, you woke up this morning covered head to toe in your own vomit. Yuck.

More soon.

Dad

training day

Dylan,

As has become routine, Mom offered you a chance to use your potty-chair in the interval between your diaper removal and your bath. You're usually game to sit and give it a try, but today you actually peed in the toilet for the first time.

It was no big deal to you, but you seemed happy with how pleased we were by the milestone.

I look forward to getting you out of diapers.

Dad


UPDATE:
You made it two days in a row. Nice job.

transit

Dylan,

We got up early on Sunday and caught the last bit of a Thomas the Train episode on the teevee. Left wanting, we decided to go to the train station ourselves.

It was a huge hit.

Not only did we see trains ("happy trains", you're still telling Mommy three days later) coming and going, groaning and letting off steam, but there were buses coming at us from all directions, and light rail cars with their "ding ding, ding ding" which you couldn't get enough of, and every few minutes a 737 would roar overhead, landing gear ready, just to mix it up and keep it exciting.









Next weekend we're going for a ride.

Dad

shiny happy people

Surely this is what R.E.M. had in mind:




Dad


UPDATE:
Shiny happy people laughing
Meet me in the crowd
People people
Throw your love around
Love me love me
Take it into town
Happy happy
Put it in the ground
Where the flowers grow
Gold and silver shine

Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people laughing

Everyone around love them, love them
Put it in your hands
Take it take it
There's no time to cry
Happy happy
Put it in your heart
Where tomorrow shines
Gold and silver shine

Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people laughing

grandpa's fingers

Dylan,

You're a lucky boy to have two Grandfathers to do this with:





Dad

da- da- da-

Dylan,

For a long time you've been saying your own name and pronouncing the "d" with an "n" sound. The other day I was trying to stress the correct pronunciation by saying "da-, da-, da-, Dylan." You turned to me and responded with "da-, da-, da-, Daddy" and a smile.

Dad

fish tale

Dylan,

At dinner tonight you ate a half pound of fresh, wild, Dover sole along with an ear of corn, and followed up with a bowl of pasta.

The fish was meant to be for multiple meals but you kept calling for more and more as you finished serving after serving.

It's fun to watch you eat, with your 'take no prisoners', 'chewing-optional' style.

Dad

Dylan says

chi
n.
The vital force believed in Taoism and other Chinese thought to be inherent in all things. The unimpeded circulation of chi and a balance of its negative and positive forms in the body are held to be essential to good health in traditional Chinese medicine.

tar
n.
1. A dark, oily, viscous material, consisting mainly of hydrocarbons, produced by the destructive distillation of organic substances such as wood, coal, or peat.
2. Coal tar.
3. A solid residue of tobacco smoke containing byproducts of combustion.

chi•tar
n.
A musical instrument having a flat-backed rounded body that narrows in the middle, a long fretted neck, and usually six strings, played by strumming or plucking.


Dad

buenos habitos

Dylan,

You just stuck your head through the dining room door where Mom and I were finishing breakfast. You had a long thin plasticky carpet fiber sticking out of either side of your mouth that you used for what you imagined to be flossing your teeth.

Mom got you a minty-fresh strand of the real deal for you to practice with instead.





Dad

yummy, but...

D,

Peanut Butter makes a messy finger food.

Dad

tooth lotion

Dylan,

We've been making a real effort to brush your teeth every night after your bath. I say "real effort" because every day it's a struggle to get you to cooperate.

The toothbrush we have for you is actually a rubbery blue finger sleeve with a patch of bristles on one side. It even has the outline of what is supposed to be a fingernail on the reverse. It fits Mommy's hand okay, but I can barely squeeze it onto my pinky.

Until recently, brushing always left you agitated or fussy if not outright crying. And then I introduced tooth paste.

Due to a skin issue you had many months ago we ended up with a fairly good-sized container of prescription skin cream that got incorporated into your nighttime routine and has become something you look forward to sticking your fingers into. Recently, following what must have been a major nose-wiping day at school, we applied a little healing ointment to your nose for a couple nights. By the third night you were requesting "nose lotion" (your words, honest!) even though you no longer actually needed it.

The lotion theme was such a big hit with you that introduced toothpaste as "tooth lotion" to see if it would help soften your anti-brushing stance a bit.

Boy howdy.

Now you're so eager to brush your teeth that it's a struggle to just get you diapered first. I'll put just a tiny bit of Tom's of Maine fluoride-free Silly Strawberry flavored toothpaste on the bristles and it's the difference between night and day.

And I think the way you say "toodtokin" is super adorable. Every time.

Dad

my dylan

Dylan,

Most of the time, rather than saying "mine, mine, mine" like so many kids your age do when you either want to be given something or else declare your ownership of a thing, you instead say "my din•nan, my din•nan, my din•nan".

Sometimes you pronounce it "ni•nan" or "dilnan" instead.

Dad

sandy

Dylan,

Someone at school keeps putting an awful lot of sand in your hair.

I have a strong suspicion it's you.


Dad

dad says

Dylan,

Be careful to not equate humility with weakness, nor arrogance with strength.


Dad

pobby

d,

You have your own potty-chair in the bathroom. Most of the time I think you just view it as the tool that earns you a hand-washing -- which is some kind of hobby of yours. You know that if you sit for any length of time, lid open or closed, diaper on or off, you'll get a trip to the sink.

Lately, we've had some mild success getting you to use the potty, for real, before your bath. Then, of course, there's times like yesterday when you just whip out and pee on the bathroom scale. Very deliberately, to your credit.

Regardless, it's cute to hear you pronounce it "pobby" (pob•bee) all the time.

d

poolside

Dylan,

We played in the pool today while Mommy had to work.






Dad

col' wah-der

Dad

online entertainment

Dylan,

You and I have made a practice of surfing Google Images together when you're on one of your "mo' ehr-panes", "mo' ehr-panes", "mo' pishies", "mo' pishies" kicks, browsing through an endless variety of interesting images, primarily planes, fish, and dogs.

Mom took it up a notch today. I came home from work and the house was oddly quiet. Mom was in the kitchen but you were neither visible nor audible. "He's watching airplanes on YouTube", she said.

I stepped into the office and found you comfortably perched on the chair in front of the computer, just wrapping up a short video about C-5 cargo planes.

At your request, we found some fishies vids as well and in the process I stumbled upon a great archive of clips from The Muppets. We'll get back to those someday when we've got a little time on our hands together.

Dad

lashes

Dylan,

People routinely comment on your eyelashes, particularly their length. You were, in fact, barely minutes old when the doctor that delivered you enviously lamented the fact that it's always the boys who get the longest lashes.

It was pointed out today that your eyelashes actually extend all the way to your eyebrows. That quantitative representation really captures it, conveying much more to the hearer/reader than merely "really long" ever can.

Dad

ouchie quita

Dylan,

"Mariquita" is Spanish for ladybug. You shortened it to simply "quita", and it's your word for bugs of all kinds (and sometimes for tiny inanimate objects, like the broken tip of a dried leaf).

You were home with Mom the other day and playing in the pool when you picked up something small between the fingers of both hands and said "quita!, quita!, quita!".

Rather than a ladybug, what you had picked up and were now holding onto was a bee.

Mom, of course, is highly allergic to and very uncomfortable around bees. We'd been wondering if you might be allergic too, and we've tried to be especially careful.

So she rushed over and pulled your hands away from each other. Right about that time, thinking he was seeing the final curtains closing on his act, the bee decided to go out with a scream and sank his sharp end into your index finger in a brazen act of self-determination.

You cried, but not too terribly much. Your finger swelled, but again, not too much. And you were a little irritable the rest of the afternoon after soaking your hand in ice water awhile, but I think you took it pretty well.

Dad

paypakes

Dylan,

I like to make pancakes on the weekends (I use GG's recipe) and I think it's great that you enjoy them as much as I do, as evidenced by the frequent refrain of "mo' pay-pakes, mo' pay-pakes, peeze!"

Dad

sentencing

Dylan,

Yesterday you said a full sentence: "Now, orange crackers all gone".

Dad

ready, set, go

click

Dylan,

You're getting really good at fastening seat belts. Whether in the car, a high chair, a shopping cart, or the giant silver-glittering plastic spinning coin-operated robot at the mall, you like to make the pieces fit together.

In the car seat you'll insert the clip almost all the way and give me a look, waiting for some signal before closing the final half centimeter and completing the connection, then you look up and say "click" with a smile.

Dad

finding airplanes

Dylan,

Late Sunday morning you were easily persuaded to give up playing with the sprinkler in the back yard when I suggested we go looking for airplanes. I'd been wanting to do this for a while.

We drove up the road to the airport and parked on the edge of a dusty, weed-populated open space large enough for several football fields. It's the last thing besides the freeway that all incoming planes fly over before easing onto the runway. A plane had come in for a landing just as we got off the freeway but when we parked and got out of the car it was all quiet. You of course noticed right away a very large hydraulic excavator (or "big digger") parked on the far side of the field, nearest the freeway. There was also a Loader Backhoe off in another direction. We checked out the diggers for a bit until the lights that had emerged in the distance became the roar of an airplane probably 300 feet over our heads.

For a while, no sooner had one plane landed than the lights of the next were already a shining daylight star on the horizon. Every few minutes a plane would overtake our position and slide over the fencing to the tarmac. And as soon as each plane touched down you asked insistently "more airplane, more airplane, more airplane?" I'd tell you to look and to listen and I'd try to direct your attention to the horizon, but -- probably because I forget to bring your hat -- you just didn't seem satisfied until the sound of the jet engines was washing over us.

We probably didn't see ten planes, but it felt like it.

When finally a plane had landed and there was no distant light, we walked to the car and said good-bye to the airplanes and the diggers.

It was just past noon and I casually suggested to you as you climbed into your carseat that it would be okay to go to sleep if you were tired. You were out before we even got back to the freeway, probably inside of 15 seconds.

Dad

d & d

Dylan,

Last month you went to your buddy's house to hang out and watch some teevee, like only toddlers can:




Dad

nervous habits

Dylan,

You have an absent-minded tendency to pull, slowly and repeatedly, at the hair on my arms or legs. It's only mildly annoying until you've got ahold of my chest hair.

It's better than your similarly absent-minded tendency to try prying Mommy's fingernails backwards.


Dad

jump

Dylan,

You used to love to watch the little boy next door jump. He'd come over and put on a display of his hopping ability and you'd laugh and wave your hands in the air, then he'd run back to his house or into the waiting mini-van his mom had finished loading.

Recently you've been honing your own jumping skills.

For a week or two there were a lot of efforts that gave you clear satisfaction even though only one foot actually left the ground, the other rising sometimes to the ball of your foot, other times your toes, but still clinging stubbornly to the earth.

When we walk together down the sidewalk you'll sometimes stop and try to jump over every line where the concrete has been cracked and raised by the neighborhood tree roots then ground down by The City some years ago only to have risen further.

Now you jump out of your high chair as soon as I start to lift. You jump off of your changing table the same way. You've been jumping up and kicking both feet out in front of you, in the pack-n-play and any other surface softly suited for your bottoms-down landings.

You're even jumping from heights. There's a playground nearby where all the structures are made of compressed foam. You repeatedly climbed onto a chest-high (to you) platform and leapt down into a padded corner, thrilled at the experience even as you continually left one foot behind!


Dad

overwhelmed

d,

I had to punish you today for something you did, and hours later I'm feeling the lingering affects myself.

It was time to come in the house. We were standing on the porch and I had picked you up, rather than let you scamper away. I wanted to give you another chance to walk into the house on your own rather than take you against your will so I offered you the choice to walk in or be carried. You leaned in and put your head against my shoulder, and I turned towards the door.

Then you bit me.

I immediately pulled you back so I could see your face. I held your little chin between my thumb and forefinger so you couldn't turn away.

I used my sternest voice to tell you that what you did was not okay, and that biting was not nice.

I laid it on thick. I meant to. You've bitten Mommy the exact same way once before. I don't want you thinking that biting people is another option in your toolbox. You are not Mike Tyson.

You looked at my eyes. You absorbed what I had to say. Then you began a shallow, rapid breathing that built and built into a wail.

While there's no doubt that the reprimand affected you, I'm not sure whether the stronger imprint was "biting is bad" or "daddy was mad". It is not my aim to rule by fear. I learned from my short time as an educator that when your highest aim is for someone to learn, you can have all the authority in the world and still hold none of the power.

I overwhelmed you today with the Fear of Angry Daddy. I don't believe that's the best way for you to learn and I hope we don't have to go down that road together too often.

I love you.

Dad

angela

Dylan,

You have friends we've never even met.

Grandma GG told me that her co-worker Angela saves the toys from her Happy Meals just for you. She recently won a stuffed Scooby Doo in a contest and now that has your name on it too.

It's heartwarming to know that other people think about you and care about you.

Dad

all better

Dylan,

Most of your minor bangs and bumps can be fixed with simple measures. After a kiss from Mommy or Me you say "all better" and go about your business.

As your owies progress, it won't always be so easy.

Dad

stink

d-

You've got some bad foot odor lately.

You've been wearing these cute little shoes a lot. They're convenient in many ways, but don't let all those holes fool ya, they're none too breathable.

dad

flip out

Dylan,

You just climbed out of the Pack-N-Play for the first time. Rather, I should say you left it's confines of your own accord, 'cause you didn't actually climb, and I'm pretty sure you weren't trying to get out.

I was in the room, but I had my back to you while I was paying bills online. I suppose I should point out that you were in the Pack-N-Play only because you requested it. You were having a good time throwing yourself around in there, rebounding off the mesh walls. You'd also jump up and land on your bottom then laugh hysterically as the pen reverberated around you.

Next thing I hear is you thunking against the floor.

I'm guessing, but I think you had ahold of the side rail with both hands and paired an inspired jump with a mighty tug. Then, surprised to find yourself elevated, you went heels-over-head all the way to freedom, your bottom and your heels rotating around the newly-formed pivot point where your head had met the floor.

Mom rushed in from the next room, thinking you had finally knocked the Pack-N-Play over. I had already picked you up, but it was a time when mommy-hugs had that extra-special something.

After a bit, but while you were still crying, I asked if you were scared. You said "yeah".

I see this as a major milestone. I've long wondered when and how you would first manage your way out of bed. Hopefully you don't employ the same tactic from your crib -- it's a much farther fall (albeit to a softer floor).

UPDATE:
I put you back in the Pack-N-Play (the morning after) and realized that your toy drum sat in the corner where you had exited. You wasted no time in standing atop the sturdy plastic drum (which is about 7" tall). I'm guessing now that you were also standing on it when you executed the evacuation manouver detailed above.


Dad

965

d,

Videos of you posted to YouTube have been viewed online by nearly a thousand people. And counting.

Wow.


dad

little star

dylan,

You started singing a song today and while I couldn't quite make out the words, the tune was recognizable. You must have learned this one at school.



When I played the clip for you to see, you were riveted to the tiny image on the camera. Riveted.

Thanks for being amazing.


Dad

big trucks

Dylan,

There's some construction going on a block from our house. Big diggers and earth movers and dump trucks, even a steam roller. They've cut a giant trench down the middle of the street to lay new pipes. We walked down there today and had a look together.

The trucks were loud, and they all beep, beep, beeped while they backed up. You didn't want to get too close so we stood on the sidewalk several houses away from the action and watched for a long time. You kept pressing your nose with your index finger every time you heard the beeping. When we finally left you said "bye-bye trucks" about a million times.


Dad

treasure

Dylan,

I just finished putting you to bed.

I was thinking tonight while you were falling asleep that I won't always be able to hold you in my arms. It won't be long at all -- in fact I'm sure it will feel like the blink of an eye -- before you're big and strong enough to lift me right off my feet.

I treasure it while I still can. Every night, rocking and singing you to sleep, is the most precious moment of my life.

Dad

pescatarian

Dylan,

You're a big fan of fish.

Whether it's going to see them live at the aquarium or on ice in the grocery store, you're always up for fish.

You love to eat fish. In fact, it's nearly impossible to get you to eat meat other than fish unless we lie to you and say that it's fish.

You may be a natural born pescatarian.

Dad

Too Quiet in the Other Room

Dylan,

You recently tore to pieces half our collection of cork coasters.

Dad

murphy's dynamic

Dylan,

While it's great that Mommy or I can take you out to a park for a run or a long walk, and it's so handy that you'll readily take a 90 min nap in the stroller (even when you've only been up for one hour out of the last twelve!) there's a comi-trag-ironic downside:

You're sleeping while we're exercising.

So when, a bit later, we might feel like taking a snooze, you're still nicely rested and ready to go play.

Bittersweet, I guess.


Dad

you're in

d,

The other night I tried to put you in some bath water that was too hot. You complained and I put you on my hip while I adjusted the temperature. Your response was to pee all over the side of my shirt, down my leg, and on my shoe.

A surprising amount made it to the floor considering how much was absorbed by my clothing.

dad

crash

Dylan,

We went to dinner with Yaya and Baba last night at an old favorite hole in the wall. After dinner you were saying good-bye to everyone in the place as you walked to the exit with me following behind. You headed right out the front door and onto the sidewalk. I had just moved to close the gap between us and make sure I could grab you if you decided to head right out into the street when suddenly a cyclist coming unseen from our left yelped and hit his brakes. He was in his 50's. He'd been riding on the sidewalk because it's a very busy street with no bike lane. Although he had slowed down as a precaution, he just wasn't ready -- or quick enough -- to handle your surprise entry onto his scene. He braked hard and swerved, unable to stop in time before falling sideways over you, knocking you to the ground and pinning you, briefly, under his bike.

Mind you, this happened just inches in front of me as I stood maybe two feet behind you at the threshold, my field of vision still limited by the door frame.

I lifted the bike, which was unfortunately still securely attached to the rider, as quickly as I could and pulled you up off the ground. You were traumatized, but I could tell right away that you weren't badly hurt. You sustained a cut on your lip, your nose was bleeding a little, and you scraped your head near the temple.

I turned to see the rider, who was still on the ground straddling the bike, stuck in his pedal clips, and asked if he was all right. In a shaky, winded voice he hollered "Never mind me! Is he okay? What about his head? Check the side of his head!"

It took him a long time to get off the ground, and longer still to get himself and his bike back in order.

Back inside, we got you some ice and moist napkins. The lip bled plentifully and you howled for a while. I was glad this hadn't happened while we were on vacation because you needed some mommy love to finally calm down.













Dad

light of mine

This little light of mine
I'm gonna let him shine

This little light of mine
I'ma gonna let him shine

This little light of mine
I'm gonna let him shine

Let him shine, shine, shine
Let him shine


D- It's a little twist on an old song. Along with a few other verses this is my latest favorite song to sing you at bedtime. It seems to have special effectiveness at eliciting a whispered "yeah" when I say "it's night-night time" or ask "are you ready for night-night?"


Dad

Grandpa Russ

Dylan,

You've never been very willing to be led around by the hand. In fact, the only time I remember you holding my hand while we walked was at the Mother's Day concert when you grabbed my finger, tucked it into the small of your back and dragged me around the spaces you had been exploring along with hordes of other kids.

For some reason last week with Grandpa the rules changed. Time and again he offered you a big finger to hold as he took you this way or that, and you repeatedly grabbed hold and followed. I guess it's just a special thing between you two.











Dad

guitar action

Dylan,

We arrived in Seattle last week to find a toy guitar waiting for you. You took to it like probably no other toy you've owned, climbing into chairs to sit and strum it for a while then dragging it along behind you while you toured the house and played one-handed with other toys. You even held it during diaper changes.

Infatuated even with the trapezoidal box it came in, you spent a lot of time and expressed great frustration trying to put it neatly into the box, and fit the lid, just to take it right back out again. And again. And again.

We recycled that box shortly after returning home.








Dad

all about me

Dylan,

On our trip to Seattle Grandma gave me my baby book, titled "All About Me". It's white with toys giraffe and puppy on the front -- each with a ribbon tied 'round it's neck -- and outlined in shiny silver.

Inside the front cover are two handprints, roughly half the length of current day, that were clearly contributed by the subject -- one seemingly traced, the other quite possibly free-handed. Other indicators suggest this may have been done at age two and a half. I believe I may have an actual memory of the act, which I find interesting because when asked before (like I first was by Mrs. Tsutsumi in the 6th grade), I've never been able to conjour up even a candidate for what my oldest memory may be.

Me not being the first-born there are unsurprisingly more spots blank than populated, but here is some trivia:

I was born bigger than you were, by six and a half ounces. A half-inch longer too, but by eighteen months your weight exceeded mine by nearly three pounds. You need only gain a mere eight pounds and a fraction to match my weight as a three-year-old.

I waited a few months longer for my first haircut, and you waited a few months longer to stand up and walk.

I was very shy starting pre-school at 3 years and 8 months, while you have been a socializer from your earliest days. I like to think you draw energy from being around people rather than recharging your batteries by spending time alone.

I just know you're enjoying reading about yourself at this age.

Dad

bite

Dylan,

I got a call from Daycare last night, albeit after I had already left to pick you up. The official report says you were trying to steal a toy from a "friend" and they decided to escalate the matter by biting you on the knuckle.

Serves you right.

It left a visible mark, but didn't break the skin. You cried very briefly.

You're going to have to learn to negotiate better.

Dad

climbing

Dylan,

I think you got more climbing practice done in Seattle than you would have at home, or if Mommy had been traveling with us. Yesterday I came in from the garage to find that for the first time you had climbed into your highchair all on your own.

I'm very impressed, and just a little worried.

Dad

boar

d,

This morning I got out of bed not because you were crying or fussing but because I could hear you in the next room saying "dada, dada".

I walked in to say hello and you were standing there with a bear in each hand -- Jack and Ivan -- saying, for the first time, "boar, boar".

dad

plane trippin

D,

We flew to Seattle last week to visit family and friends. While you were a handful on both flight legs, you were kind enough to sleep for 70 min on the way out (and boy, were my arms tired) and do a lot more playing than fussing on the way home, spending plenty of time diligently learning to operate the seat belt.

At SeaTac a woman in her 70's touched me on the arm as we were gathering our gear to deplane after I had pulled out H. Ivan Bear to keep you company. "You are the best dad" she said.

I give us both credit for that impression.

Dad

words

Dylan,

You've been saying new words at a fast and furious pace lately. Some of them are still the kind of thing only a parent can interpret, like the way you say "grean beans" sounds more like "mean mean", but more and more you're hitting it just right and sounding like a real wordsmith.

This morning you pointed at your lower lip and said, clear as a bell, "mouth".

You also have a very well-developed "no".

Dad

eye drops

Dylan,

You have Pink Eye again. Damn daycare.

Dad

big shoes

Dylan,

This morning you stepped into my shoes and walked around for the first time. I wish I had gotten a picture.

Dad

cardboard box

Dylan,

Grandpa made you a house from a cardboard box he'd been saving for months:















Dad

last night

Dylan,

Last night after you'd been in bed about two hours, I heard you crying. I lifted my head off the pillow and quickly remembered that both of your legs had been sticking out through the crib rails when I went to tuck you in before going to bed myself.

You probably woke up and rolled over -- not necessarily in that order -- and things just didn't go as smoothly as you'd like.

I listened for 20-30 seconds as you worked things out on your own, and we both went to sleep.

Dad

affection

d,

You've started giving us spontaneous hugs. Sometimes you even add a reassuring little pat on the back, as if you actually know just how much your tiny-armed hug really means to us.

You've also gotten into the habit of giving mommy a hug and a kiss each night at bedtime.

Precious incarnate.

dad

happy walk

Dylan,

When you're in a good mood it sometimes shows in the way you carry yourself. You have an almost happy-go-lucky way of walking where you pull both arms from front to back in unison, bringing your little fists just together up high out in front of your chest before throwing both arms back and out in a big swinging motion. This happy walk is normally paired with the serenity of your own little universe apparent on your face.

May you never lose this capacity for contentment.


Dad

buenos habitos

Dylan,

You love washing your hands.

We have a little two-step ladder/stool in front of the bathroom sink and you never pass up an opportunity to climb up and employ the facilities. You always want to grab and rotate the faucet. You can tell it triggers the water flow but I don't think you've made the connection to the water temperature yet.

I always have to be quick to get your sleeves pushed up because you'll grab and pump the soap dispenser ASAP.

I didn't know this before Mom told me yesterday but you get to wash your hands at daycare after every diaper change. That's a good habit to get into.


Dad

penicillin

d,

I took you to an Urgent Care appointment this morning because of a rash we first noticed Saturday night. It's little red spots on slightly raised patches all over your body, most noticeable on your torso.

It struck me as not being a big deal, especially since you exhibited no other symptoms, but I could tell Mom was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Thinking back over your meals and snacks the days prior turned up nothing suspicious.

A web search brought one candidate to mind: medication. For the last 8 days you'd been taking Amoxicillin in the form of a sweet, wildly pink liquid. Though you took to the stuff like a seagull to a french fry, it was the only new thing in your diet and the information I found suggested it could take as long as two weeks for medicine allergic rashes to appear.

The doc confirmed our suspicions and says we should operate under the assumption that you have a mild allergy to penicillin, and it's good that you didn't have any troubles breathing. Yeah.

Make a mental note of this one, Dylan. You'll get asked about it at doctor visits for the rest of your natural life.


Dad

milestone #114

Dylan,

Saturday night we visited our old neighbors in their new house for the first time. You played with their 3- and 5-year olds while the adults had dinner in the other room. We checked in from time to time, but it was great that you and we were each able to do our own socializing without the hassles of constant supervision.

dad

meaning

Dylan,

If ever you search for meaning, don't bother assessing whether or not it is there, but rather what it is to you.

Dad

eighteen

Dylan,

You turned 18 months old yesterday.

dad

two hundred

Dylan,

This is the two hundredth post I've made to this blog.

As I write, I imagine you reading these entries and what meaning they might convey. A few years from now you'll peruse them for the first time and probably appreciate the pictures and videos the most, but I picture you reading them again when you're ten, or fifteen, or thirty and perhaps finding different meaning each time. Especially if you have a Dylan of you're own.

Whatever your age or perspective, I've enjoyed writing to my boy.

Dad

When I'm at work

Dylan,

I keep this photo (along with a few others) on my desk at work:



Almost every time I look at it I pause, amazed.

Dad

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

togetherness

Dylan,

Mom pointed out to me yesterday while she was browsing through gigabyte upon gigabyte of photographs we've taken of you in the last year and a half that we don't have so many of you and her together. Come to think of it, we probably don't have so many of you and I together either. All those times we're inspired to run for the camera we lose just a little bit of context, I guess.

Since the extent to which we spend time holding you close really is a reflection of how much we love and care for you every second of every day, I think the record ought to reflect as much. Time to be a little more deliberate in capturing the *ahem* bigger picture.

Dad

nigh nigh

Dylan,

You've been an absolute champ lately at bedtime. You drink your milk, have your bath, and get in your pj's. Then I tell you it's night-night time, you whisper "nigh nigh" and as soon as we walk into your darkened room (which Mom always prepares for us) you lay down in my arms and tuck in, and I lower you into your crib with your teddy bear and blanket, raise the crib rail while giving you a few reassuring pats, say "night night" once more and walk out of the room.

Last night you took it up a notch.

I didn't give you your milk until after your pj's. I thought the break in routine might make things rough, and when you insisted on traipsing through the house only semi-interested in your moo-juice I braced for a fight. Then, when you had handed me your sippy-cup for the third time, finally all done, I said "night night Dylan". You surprised me by turning and walking from the kitchen through the dining room, down the hall, into your room, straight past Mommy and all the way to your crib. I picked you up and put you in straightaway. You were ready for bed and it had never been easier.

Maybe I should start asking you to draw the bath and change your own diapers.

Dad

careful

D,

Mom pointed out to me that when you trip and fall and start to cry, if she says to you "you have to be careful, right?" you will immediately stop crying and say "Yeah."

And that's the end of it.

Dad

baba

Dylan,

Last Saturday after breakfast you and I drove over to Grandma & Grandpa's house for a visit. When I parked in the driveway and opened your car door you seemed to suddenly recognize your surroundings and said: "Baba, Yaya." You repeated this several times between the car and the house.

At home, when we go through the photo book of people who love you we have nicknames for all of your grandparents. On Mom's side we've started calling them Papa and Yaya.

By the time we got to the door you were clearly aware of where we were and who we were about to visit. Grandpa opened the door and you gave him an enthusiastic "Baba!".

Seeing his eyes, I doubt he ever felt more connected to you than at that moment.

Dad

mama

Dylan,

Most kids say "mama" and "dada" among their very first words.

You learned things like "light", "truck", "dog", and "meow" first. You picked up "dada" eventually but you made Mommy wait until last month -- 16 full months into this endeavor -- before you finally started calling her by name.

Now you say "mama" all the time, when you see pictures of her, see her car pull into the driveway (actually it starts as soon as you hear the garage door open), or when I ask "Where's Mommy?" if she's still in bed when you've finished breakfast and you rush in to tell her how much you love her and how much she means to you.

Dad

Shovel Guitar

Dylan,

You're a fan of the guitar. Your music classes, Spanish classes, and Uncle Marc have made quite an impression. Now you treat everything from plastic shovels to table spoons like guitars -- sometimes even singing along.

You sat happily yesterday on the back steps just jammin' away while I did yard work. You kept it up so long I eventually went for the camera. You tried to play it up a bit for the camera, of course, but I caught some stuff worth keeping.



Dad

Easter

d-

Your interest in harvesting the eggs paled greatly in comparison to your interest in getting them open. No chocolate for you this year, just kix and crackers.

dad

happy man

Dylan,

There is something about having such a wonderful and beautiful wife and child that triggers the ancient lizard brain deep within, reinforcing some pleasantly sub-cognitive understanding of what it is to be a man. It is primitive, yet joyful.

Dad

wheels on the bus

d,

You've been requesting that we sing The Wheels on the Bus lately. You sign your equivalent of the "round and round" hand motions with a hopeful look, and you always ask for more and more verses.

dad

fishies

Dylan,

We took another trip to the aquarium, just you and me. Here're some pics:







Dad

happy day

Dylan,

Things were very happy in your universe yesterday. From the time you woke up until I put you down for the night you were in the best of moods.

You seemed awake and alert, and not crying, when I walked into your room with your morning sippy. You didn't get bored and agitated at all while I changed your diaper and put on clean clothes for the day. You even spent a few minutes playing in your room after, including climbing into the rocking chair, grabbing the arms and giving it your best buckin' bronco, with a wild grin to match.

We were chatting about trains in the kitchen when you suddenly began inquiring as to mommy's whereabouts. You signed 'mama' a few times and then used the up-turned palms and bent elbows to gesture 'where?', so that was as far as we let her sleep in.

Mom said she had a really great day with you. She didn't try so hard to get much done other than enjoy your company. Those are always the best days.

You went for a run on the creek trail with Mommy's friend and her twin girls your age, then spent some time at the playground there. It was a beautiful weather day. You left one playground and headed to another, closer to home, for more fun time.

Your nap at home didn't rival the duration they manage to get from you at school, but when you woke up you were in super-cuddle mode for a long stretch.

You were still in an especially good mood when I got home from work.

I gave you your last doses of the last round of eye medicine (10 days of the ointment this time, to be sure) and you didn't make a peep either time. While just a few weeks ago you screamed bloody murder at the mere proposition, you're now so inured to it that this morning, at your insistence, I popped the cap off the tube and pretended to apply some to each eye.

You responded by vigorously rubbing your eyes with your fists.


Dad

kitchen stool

Dylan,

You've learned that you can reach things on the kitchen counter by carrying the little plastic stool across the room and placing it against the cabinets before climbing on top.

It's as cute as it is dangerous. You can almost reach the knife block.

Dad

pick

Dylan,

You've recently learned to stick your finger in your nose. Mom has launched a campaign against such behavior.

Dad

observations

Dylan,

You are constantly observing and commenting.

We read through a book and you have something to say or sign about nearly every page. You note every bird you see and practically every car.

We're always wondering what exactly is going through your head while you chatter away to yourself about a toy you're playing with or a video you're watching. Or while you're walking round the house sticking my key chain up against every door handle, hoping one will eventually respond, like they do for me.

Keep it up. Don't ever stop making observations, even if you have to sometimes keep them to yourself. Never lose the curiosity that drives you. Let it serve you all of your life.

I promise to keep listening.

Dad

universe

dylan,

Mom says you live in your own little world, and you're just thrilled to be there.

dad

haircut

Dylan,

I took you to your first haircut this morning. We saved a little baggie of it at Mommy's request.

You sat in a little blue tractor near a teevee with the teletubbies on, but you weren't pleased by the process. You generally resisted and struggled throughout a long three minutes.

After, you played with some of their toys, and pooped.

Then we went home for a snack and some pictures.

When Mommy got home from her bike ride and saw you, she was so taken by your little boy charm that she almost cried.














Dad