Fisherboy

Dylan,

You love to throw your line into the calm waters, wherever and whenever we can find some. While we were at the docks a fisherman was so taken by your little pole he brought out a real one, with real hooks and all, and showed you how to "flip the bill" to let the line drop, and jigger the pole to make your bait dance through the murky depths. I'd have taken a picture of that too, but I didn't dare step away to do it lest your giddy exuberance cause you to throw his whole pole in the water. After all, you are 3 and a half.

You and Uncle Marc are going to have a blast fishing on our family vacation later this summer.

Visit to the lighthouse

Ever since we read you "Rory to the Rescue" you've been wanting to
visit a lighthouse. Today you got your chance.

Beach day

Our second Wednesday outing of summer.

Cool dude on the train

Dylan and mom's first day trip of the summer.

On the train!

I Keep a Close

Dylan,

For the record, your bedtime routine remains largely unchanged.

Dinner->Milk->Bath->Jammies->Teeth->Story with Mom->Song from Mom: Hush Little Dylan->Song from Dad: Walk the Line, or as you call it "I Keep a Close"

It's safe to say I've sung that to you more than one thousand times.


Dad

toothbrushing

Dylan,

Yesterday, and the day before that, I let you brush my teeth.

I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. It seems so intuitive now that you might benefit by experiencing toothbrushing without a tool stuck in your mouth. Besides, you're very keen to do it and it serves multiple purposes.

For one, it kinda balances out my brushing your teeth all the time. You've been especially cooperative when the activity has been more symmetrical.

For another thing, you get a better understanding of what a mouth looks like, and how the toothbrush fits into some of those spaces. I mean, a mirror is one thing, but when you're standing up on your stool and I'm on my knees looking up at you like some baby bird, you've got a bigger target, better lighting, and the opportunity to see different angles.

We also get to learn some things from each other. I've been able to show you, hand-over-hand, how to brush in little circles. You've been very considerate asking "Do you need to spit?" much sooner and more frequently than I do, which makes me think you'd appreciate some reciprocation of the same.


Dad

more chocolate chip pancakes

Dylan,

We made chocolate chip pancakes outside again last weekend. You enjoyed them.




Dad

Hummer

Dylan,

You have this fantastically amusing habit of humming and singing to yourself at the table if you're eating something you really like. It sorta starts out like a Mmmmmm Mmmm, then transforms into some Hmmms, then next thing I know, you're working your way through some tune.

Ice cream gets you every time. In general, most desserts, though not all I've noticed, have this effect.

Every once in a while something I cook will bring you to song. It is a wonderful thing to observe because it really is a sign of pure unabashed joy and you're always in your own little bubble of gastronomic pleasure while you perform. It is the highest compliment.

Tonight I prepared paninis. Chicken breasts marinated in a ton of fresh herbs from the garden and young garlic, grilled squash strips, pepper jack cheese, and pesto I adapted from a food network recipe, using basil from the garden, and almonds, not from the garden. Dad did the grilling and pressing.

Then you started singing the praises, literally.

Dad reminds me sometimes that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. It is without a doubt true for him, and you are of the same seed.


Love,
Mom