Cha cha cha changes...

At 8:30 this am our hall bathroom looked like this...



four hours later...


Wow

When you finally got a glimpse of the finished product, the result was priceless. I could just see you trying to process it all. All those synapses trying to help make sense of this seeming alter reality. I've never seen that look on your face before. Pure wonder.

When you finally chose to speak, you pointed to the emptyness and said "the bathtub is all gone?!"

As they always do, I'm sure your thoughts on this matter will pop out of your mouth a few days or a week down the road at some randomly connected moment.

Mom

From the peanut gallery

Dylan,

I invisioned my first post including much more fanfare, or at least an introduction, but as I keep waiting for the right moment to create it, I have begun to realize it just isn't going to happen. I could and would like to say a million things, but really there just are no words to explain how the experiences of the last two years have transformed me on every level. Including those many levels I don't even know exist. You just had to be there :)

Instead, I will just start with the present (or last week really) and carry on. That is, after all, what life is all about.

So, Dad took a little "vacation" from us and made the trip up to see his family alone. It was the longest stretch I have ever had you all to myself. It was a challenge, mostly because you had a cold and had to stay home from school, but also because I had a lot of house issues to deal with and you were supposed to be at school, not bouncing around the house while I was doing them.

One night while we were going through your bedtime routine, I stepped out of the room for a moment. When I returned you had one of Dad's socks on (spanning the length of the most of your leg, ankle to thigh), and were working on the other one. You looked up to give me one of those "look what I did" grins, then proceeded to explain, in case I hadn't noticed, you had your socks on. I was quite impressed with your ability to put them on and pull them up as you have not yet mastered even getting your flinstone toes into the openings of your own little socks.

I guess size does matter.



Mom

field trip

Dylan,

They're doing more new construction at the hospital and we drive by it every morning on the way to school. Today the machines were out in force, so we parked in the Visitor's lot and walked to the top of the little parking garage right next to all the action. There was a Scraper, a Track Excavator, an Articulated Wheel-Dozer, a Forklift, a Backhoe, and a Front-End Loader.

They were beepin' and chuggin' and scoopin' and dumpin'. Drivin' and plowin' and co-ordinatin'. They were pilin' and haulin' and turnin' and workin'. You watched with undivided attention.

Then we walked back to the car and finished the trip.

When we arrived at school they said "We were just talking about you, saying 'It's unusual that Dylan's not here by now', and there you are!"

I'm sure you had a good day. And I wonder how things went on your first day in Pull-Ups.


Dad

wreck

Dylan,

You were an emotional wreck yesterday.

It was odd behavior -- more of degree than kind, I think -- as you repeatedly flew off the handle in major crying fits that would last and last, then end as abruptly as they had begun.

The first was with Mom at Spanish class: The teacher was pretending to feed a doll. She offered the doll some food, and the doll refused.

This shook you.

You cried inconsolably for the last minutes of class and then all the way home where Mom put you down for a nap that lasted only 15 minutes.

You blew up again just as I pulled in the driveway. You ran out the back door of the garage, picked up a flower you had been playing with earlier (that came from the neighbor's bush) and acted as though someone were coming to take it away from you.

I carried you inside. The flower seemed to lose it's importance, but still you cried. I told you to go ahead and cry as much as you needed to. You stopped almost immediately and told me you were all done.

You blew up once at the table during dinner, and exploded again when I put your cup of milk away before you were really ready. I was glad Mom told me the details of Spanish class before she left for a class of her own, so I was able to say some reassuring things when you blurted out "the baby needs more foo-ood".

I took a picture to show you:



It fascinated you such that you stopped crying again and posed for more:



You went off the rails again when I started to leave the room to get things ready for bedtime. And then once more when I said "no" to a request for something you wanted (I'm not even certain what) off the ledge in the shower. You did the curled-bottom-lip-over-extended-jaw howl as you clambered out -- not staying to play and watch the last drops of water go down the drain, which you usually treasure -- and got into your bathrobe. Then you stood atop your potty chair, still crying, and peed all over yourself.

As I was saying, that's not like you.

It seemed you had a remarkably empathetic connection with that doll, and you couldn't stand the thought of its needs not being met.


Dad


UPDATED: I had the doll story wrong. It was the doll that refused the food, not the teacher who refused the doll more food.

pull-ups

Dylan,

Your teacher suggested we start sending you to school in pull-ups so she can help with the transition out of diapers. That might start as soon as tomorrow.

I like the idea of some experienced help. I'm feeling like I'm behind the curve on potty training expertise.

Dad

for one second

Dylan,

You were playing in the hallway with your froggy bank, occasionally throwing it or banging it on the wall. I gave you a warning that if you were not nice to Froggy he would go away.

You took him into your room and I could hear you saying "You get a timeout for one second. Because I hit you."

I was pleased to hear you explain to Froggy why he was being punished. I think it means we've set your expectations as such.


Dad

unsad

Dylan,

You just turned to me at the dinner table and said "You're unsad", then turned and said the same, in an energized voice, to Mommy.

We had just reminded you with big smiles on our faces of how you made us both proud last night with your first full spectrum utilization of your little potty. That's right -- you pooped in the toilet for the first time. Major milestone.

Here's hoping for a quick and painless transition (fingers crossed!) to a diaper free lifestyle.


Dad

vientesiete

dylan,

You turned 27 months old yesterday. You've had so many of these milestones that they're starting to go by unnoticed.


Dad

play your trains

Dylan,

The wooden train set you got for Christmas spends a lot of time laid out on the floor. You often encourage me to join you in making use of it but you don't really invite me to join in so much as you implore me with: "Play your trains! Play your trains!", often jabbing a finger toward the space you would have me occupy.

In your mind you've usually designated some car or engine as mine, but you invariably develop a new attachment to it as soon as I start rolling it down the tracks.


Dad

technology

Dylan,

The current CEO of Google expects that by the time you're my age you'll be able to store the entirety of human knowledge on a hand-held device.

For now, I'm still impressed that I can do this with my cell phone:




Dad