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