say hello to the buffalo

Dylan,

There is an English novelist/poet named Miles Gibson. I learned today that he has written some books for children, including "Say Hello to the Buffalo (and other animals)".

I think I might try to find you a copy.


Dad

"I don't like you"

Dylan,

You told me today that you don't like me.

My reaction was to dissuade you from using that statement as a tool, especially with your peers, so I told you it was a mean thing to say to someone.

What I wish I had done, with the benefit of some reflection, is to show you how it made me feel, or more to point, would have made me feel had I taken you at your word.

You see, later in the evening while we were getting ready for dinner you told me that Marieke (a girl at school) told you today that she didn't like you. In a moment of mild frustration, (I think) you tried out the same line on me to see what effect is would/should have. And what I did was to tell you it was 'bad', but not show you why. I inadvertently sent a dichotomized message that on one hand you need to be careful what you say, while on the other hand I can unilaterally void your words of meaning and simply blow them off as empty rhetoric. That's the kind of thing that'll make a kid wonder why they can't call someone an idiot if they're not going to a)believe it's true, or b)believe I really mean it?

I missed a teachable moment there.


Dad

squeeze

Dylan,

"I want... I want, you... I want, yoo-oo" you said at the breakfast table this morning after Mom had already headed out to work.

"You want me?"

"I want another hug."

"OK." I picked you up from your foam-rubber, butt-grooved, replication phone book of a booster seat and held you close, on my lap.

"Squeeze" you said. I wrapped my arms over every square inch of you I could cover, and squeezed you tightly, trying not to restrict your breathing too much or for too long.

"More squeeze" you responded when I let up.

I hugged you and squeezed you for a while. Then I sang you the "ants go marching" song while you could feel the vibrations of the "hurrah, hurrahs" and finally put you back on your booster seat to finish your oatmeal.


Dad

la lengua

Dylan,

You bite your tongue way more often than anybody's got business doin'.

Dad

UN Translator

Dylan,

You asked me tonight if I wanted to be a dentist when I grow up. I know that your class at school has been talking about such grand ambitions lately. You, unsurprisingly, want to be a "train".

Your camp counselors last week sent you home with a certificate declaring you a "Future UN Translator". They were quite taken, I know, by your dabbling in both Spanish and Sign language.

We've got a lot of work ahead of us to make sure you have as many options available to you as possible when it comes time to really make that decision for yourself, but so far I'm liking our trajectory.

Dad

why

Dylan,

You've reached one of those points we knew would come eventually: The "why?" stage.

Now suddenly everything we say is greeted with this simple query, as is the ensuing answer, and the answer after that and the answer after that. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. It's almost not even a question, just a way to drive the conversation and keep an adult talking.

To a certain degree I enjoy at least the sheen of curiosity and so go along with it a few levels deep. But it's usually not long before I'm turning the question back on you, or telling you I think you already know the answer.
Dad

old house

Dylan,

We're inches away from reaching agreement to sell our house and move. You're taking the news in stride.

"This is our 'old' house" you said to me, your face not betraying any of the significance of the proceedings. Our search now begins in earnest for a "new" -- and better -- house for you to grow up in (for a while).

My parents never moved when I was growing up. I don't know what kind of memories you'll retain of the place. As significant as it's been in your life so far, it'll probably be relegated to the back of your mind like the oldest chapters in an unwritten history book, and mostly forgotten.

I'm glad we've got so many pictures and videos.

Dad

rules

Dylan,

One of our new favorite responses to your frequent questions is "Because that's the rule".

For now, at least, you're willing to accept that.

Dad

smallworld

Dylan,

One of the great things about Family Camp is that we get to dump you off on somebody else for a while and go do fun things.

Now don't get me wrong, it's not that you're some albatross around our necks or that we don't love having you around, but the truth is that you do -- as any two and a half year old would -- change our stride just a bit.

We've been taking you to Smallworld most days from about 9am til 3pm. You're sometimes upset when you have to leave. They've been taking good care of you; dutifully applying sunscreen, keeping your hat on when you go outside, and letting you romp endlessly in the ball pit.

After a couple of days you learned the route from our room to Smallworld. We probably could have shoved you out the door in the morning and trusted that you'd find your way there -- but we didn't.

big boy bed

Dylan,

Here at our "vacation home" (actually a college dormitory) you get your own room with two twin beds. At home you're still sleeping in your crib, so although we decided not to bring the Pack-N-Play with us (to conserve space for things like Mom's bicycle) we were still a little wary about you rolling off the side of a standard "big boy" bed. The floors here seem to be concrete under dense carpeting, with no pad.

Fortunately, there were extra bed rails available in your room, you know, the kind that would normally support one side of a mattress. We lowered the mattress on one of the beds, pushed it up against the higher bed, then added one of the extra rails just above mattress height -- with the actual ledge part facing outward -- to serve as a really great retaining wall. You even pointed to it and said: "That's to keep me from falling out".

You're doing a great job of sleeping (even napping) in the big bed. We're going to have to get you one of your own.


Dad

vacation

Dylan,

We're off on our much-anticipated vacation. I say "much-anticipated" because we inadvertently managed to build up your expectations so much that by Tuesday of last week you were reminding us when we drove places in the car that any non-vacation destination just wasn't going to be viewed as acceptable. "I wanna go on vacation, I wanna go on vacation, I wanna go on vacation" we were cordially -- and sometimes quite loudly -- informed.

We drove several hours to finally get here (your first long car-trip, by the way, and you did so very well we didn't even break out the portable DVD player we borrowed) and your focus never changed.

After we finally arrived, you and I took a long and leisurely walk to the beach while Mom headed to the store for a few things.

We're off to a good start.

Dad