I think I understand how games like Concentration, or Old Maid, or any number of games where you have to match things up and make pairs, became popular with kids. Because Jack loves to see matches, and pairs, and things that are like each other. I probably first noticed it when he had one of the Sandra Boynton books out, and on its back cover it had the covers of other Boynton books, and he wanted to match them up with each other. "We have that one....and that one...and not that one..."
So when he notices a picture of me, or the picture in his room of Emily, Jack, and me just a few minutes after he was born, he sometimes recognizes the pairs. "That's YOU, Daddy," he says. And, "That's YOU, Mommy." "And that's you, Jack," I say.
It gets funnier when it's not a photo. Like when Emily draws a sketch of the three of us on his Magna Doodle pad, where we're basically like Peanuts characters or something, and Jack points at one: "That's YOU, Daddy." I drew one recently that was a silly caricature with a square jaw, big grinning teeth, full head of wavy hair. Jack looks at me and points at it: "That's YOU, Daddy." Well, okay, sort of, I say.
Jack doesn't stop with pictures and people. My sister brought him gifts -- a superhero backpack, with the Hulk, Spider-man, and Mr. Fantastic on it, and a set of superhero refrigerator magnets. He brought the backpack over to the fridge where the magnets were, and held the image of the Hulk up to his magnet. "That's YOU, Hulk." And, "That's YOU, Spider-man."
As for Mr. Fantastic, well, he didn't know who that was initially. He was just "that guy." I told him who it was, and he repeated it and was as proud as if he'd made a new friend. "Want to see Mr. Fantastic, Mommy?" Okay, Jack, Emily said. "Want to see Mr. Fantastic, Daddy?" Okay, Jack, sure.
The best thing is that I found this old card game from the 70s, which I bought on ebay a few years ago -- nostalgia, really, since I had the game as a kid. It's a Marvel superheroes game, and it's basically Old Maid, but with Dr. Doom as the Old Maid. And you make pairs of the superheroes, including the Hulk...Spider-man...and even Mr. Fantastic.
Think I'll bring that game out tomorrow.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Snippets of time
- I was washing dishes this evening when Jack shambled out into the kitchen, an armful of big legos clutched to his chest. "Can you make Cowboy Bob, Daddy?" (I make the cowboy on the side of the lego box, who I called Cowboy Bob.) "Can you make Cowboy Bob?"
- In the living room, in the midst of all his blocks: "Can you make a train, Daddy?"
- At the park the other day, a sunny and relatively mild day where I took Jack to get some fresh air and exercise -- and there wasn't another soul there. I called Emily to share that fact, and afterward Jack was repeating what I said. "There is nobody HERE. Nobody HERE."
- Sledding in Vermont, in 2-foot drifts of soft, powdery snow that Jack couldn't stand up or move in, and Jack not having much enthusiasm for it -- tough to blame him, he was kind of helpless. But he LOVED seeing Daddy go down the hill in the sled, and Daddy fall over backwards in a pratfall (intentional....really), and Daddy set him down on the porch, out of the snow at last.
- Emily tells me that she and Jack have a game at night, when she puts him in the crib. He leans forward in slow motion, puts his face against the bars, and kisses her. And as he moves forward, he gets this little excited, mischievous look on his face.
- When I put Jack down for a nap, or for bed, and he's in a good mood, he says (as I leave) "Good night, Daddy!" Halfway down the hall: "Good night, Daddy!"
Good night.
- In the living room, in the midst of all his blocks: "Can you make a train, Daddy?"
- At the park the other day, a sunny and relatively mild day where I took Jack to get some fresh air and exercise -- and there wasn't another soul there. I called Emily to share that fact, and afterward Jack was repeating what I said. "There is nobody HERE. Nobody HERE."
- Sledding in Vermont, in 2-foot drifts of soft, powdery snow that Jack couldn't stand up or move in, and Jack not having much enthusiasm for it -- tough to blame him, he was kind of helpless. But he LOVED seeing Daddy go down the hill in the sled, and Daddy fall over backwards in a pratfall (intentional....really), and Daddy set him down on the porch, out of the snow at last.
- Emily tells me that she and Jack have a game at night, when she puts him in the crib. He leans forward in slow motion, puts his face against the bars, and kisses her. And as he moves forward, he gets this little excited, mischievous look on his face.
- When I put Jack down for a nap, or for bed, and he's in a good mood, he says (as I leave) "Good night, Daddy!" Halfway down the hall: "Good night, Daddy!"
Good night.
The Toughest Job
Chances are if you're reading this blog you're a parent of small children, or have been one, or at least know a parent or small child very well. So it will come as no surprise to hear that the challenge of this job really shouldn't be underestimated.
A good time for this fact to hit home is when you have an extended period of time in charge of that child -- for example, when his daycare is closed for a week -- and when your child is a little out of sorts -- say, he has a cold, and has missed or had a couple of recent naps truncated, so he's behind on sleep. And let's say he's a little cranky, and you're a little behind on sleep yourself, and before you know it it's a near perfect storm of the challenges of being the parent of a toddler. And that's my week.
We went up to Vermont last week to visit Jack's grandparents, and because it's a strange place for Jack, he tends to not get as much sleep as would be ideal. Then his daycare was closed this week, but Mommy had to go to work, so Daddy was kind of on his own during the days -- and Jack had a cold.
Now I'm not going to make this out to be worse than it was. (Even though I already used the term perfect storm, but really, that's probably just because I always wanted to use it. Things could be worse.) Jack's grandpa came over this morning to help out, and Jack has had good naps the past couple of days, enabling Daddy to get some work done and loll on the couch a little bit. But when he's been awake, he's been kind of cranky, to the extent of where he says "Draw a circle Daddy," and when I draw it, he whines, "NOOOOOO...not that way....Over there...NOOOOOO.....not over there....." You get the idea. It was even worse when I opened up a set of blocks, and I had to try to read his mind as to what kind of tower he wanted help building: "NOOOOO....not THAT kind of tower....Make one of Mommy's towers....NOOOOONOT THAT TOWERRRRRR...."
Anyway, it's been a week. And the great thing about it is you realize, every once in a while, that being a parent is even tougher than most people realize, tougher than you realize, tougher than it looks from the outside. One library meltdown (we had one of those on Tuesday; Jack, not me) is all it takes to drive home the point that kids are tough, and being a parent is tough, and even though it's all worth it -- and it is, moreso than I ever thought possible -- it's an accomplishment to be good at it most days, let alone all the time. It really is a tough job.
Of course, it is all worth it, especially when Jack gets past the cranky phase into the half-asleep and lovable phase, and starts grinning and giggling at you with half asleep eyes and laughing merrily at silly games like peek-a-boo. That's when you realize that some people have tough jobs that may not be as tough, but they don't have anywhere near the rewards, either.
A good time for this fact to hit home is when you have an extended period of time in charge of that child -- for example, when his daycare is closed for a week -- and when your child is a little out of sorts -- say, he has a cold, and has missed or had a couple of recent naps truncated, so he's behind on sleep. And let's say he's a little cranky, and you're a little behind on sleep yourself, and before you know it it's a near perfect storm of the challenges of being the parent of a toddler. And that's my week.
We went up to Vermont last week to visit Jack's grandparents, and because it's a strange place for Jack, he tends to not get as much sleep as would be ideal. Then his daycare was closed this week, but Mommy had to go to work, so Daddy was kind of on his own during the days -- and Jack had a cold.
Now I'm not going to make this out to be worse than it was. (Even though I already used the term perfect storm, but really, that's probably just because I always wanted to use it. Things could be worse.) Jack's grandpa came over this morning to help out, and Jack has had good naps the past couple of days, enabling Daddy to get some work done and loll on the couch a little bit. But when he's been awake, he's been kind of cranky, to the extent of where he says "Draw a circle Daddy," and when I draw it, he whines, "NOOOOOO...not that way....Over there...NOOOOOO.....not over there....." You get the idea. It was even worse when I opened up a set of blocks, and I had to try to read his mind as to what kind of tower he wanted help building: "NOOOOO....not THAT kind of tower....Make one of Mommy's towers....NOOOOONOT THAT TOWERRRRRR...."
Anyway, it's been a week. And the great thing about it is you realize, every once in a while, that being a parent is even tougher than most people realize, tougher than you realize, tougher than it looks from the outside. One library meltdown (we had one of those on Tuesday; Jack, not me) is all it takes to drive home the point that kids are tough, and being a parent is tough, and even though it's all worth it -- and it is, moreso than I ever thought possible -- it's an accomplishment to be good at it most days, let alone all the time. It really is a tough job.
Of course, it is all worth it, especially when Jack gets past the cranky phase into the half-asleep and lovable phase, and starts grinning and giggling at you with half asleep eyes and laughing merrily at silly games like peek-a-boo. That's when you realize that some people have tough jobs that may not be as tough, but they don't have anywhere near the rewards, either.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Sledding
It snowed yesterday, or rather, it snowed, and then it rained, which froze, and there was some ice and sleet and wind and so forth. Quite a mess. Today the sun was out so we dug our way out into the yard, Jack in his snowpants (borrowed from one of Aunt Taffy's kids, fortunately in blue) and jacket and boots and hat, me in my winter jacket and hat. Since what snow there was was under a thick crust, we really couldn't build a snowman or anything, but what we could do was get Jack on his sleigh and I could pull him around the yard. We went up a little slope and then he slid down; he enjoyed it quite a bit. "a-GEHN!" he said. We did that a few times, narrowly avoiding disaster when I was pushing him up and a runner caught in the snow and I fell head over heels over him and the sled. No harm done; I knocked one of his gloves off. Oh, and I bashed my face against the snow, but I realize nobody cares. "Are you okay?" I asked Jack, tears streaming through the ice stuck to my eyes and nose. He kind of shrugged, as if to say, did something happen?
Later on we were inside watching the "Mounties" episode of Backyardigans, which all takes place in the snow. Jack pointed at them and said "Like me!" And I said, yes. And he said, "They need a jacket." (The ski patrol outfits were kind of lightweight.) And he said, "It's very very cold outside." By the end of our time outside, his little face was kind of cold. And then there were players skating, and Jack said again, "Like me!" And I said, do you want to go outside again? And he said, "No......" and: "It's very cold outside." And so it was.
Later on we were inside watching the "Mounties" episode of Backyardigans, which all takes place in the snow. Jack pointed at them and said "Like me!" And I said, yes. And he said, "They need a jacket." (The ski patrol outfits were kind of lightweight.) And he said, "It's very very cold outside." By the end of our time outside, his little face was kind of cold. And then there were players skating, and Jack said again, "Like me!" And I said, do you want to go outside again? And he said, "No......" and: "It's very cold outside." And so it was.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Dining Out
We went out to brunch with Jack this morning, celebrating his grandpa's birthday at a nice old inn in Norwalk. Eating out with Jack is always interesting, in part because we never really know how into eating he'll be, how well he'll behave, or if we'll get to finish a meal we start.
The good thing about brunch is that there is usually a broad selection of fruit, which thus far has been the one food that can occupy Jack's attention for quite a while. Well, that and donuts. Another grandpa story is that he usually attends Jack's swimming lessons Saturday morning and brings donuts for afterward -- or rather, he brought them once, and that became the routine. So now Jack sees grandpa on Saturday morning and although he's always happy to see him, within the first few seconds comes the question: "You bring donuts?" Grandpa's birthday was Friday, and we wanted Jack to wish him a happy birthday when he saw him Saturday morning. "Jack, what are you going to say when you see grandpa?" "You bring donuts?" Um.....
So anyway, dining out is usually me shoveling in food while Emily entertains Jack, her eating while I entertain Jack, or both of us wolfing it down while Jack eats fruit. And then of course he gets interested in eating off our plates, drinking our milk or juice, or (if we're lucky) some other baby or one of the Rosenfeld girls, and then we both get to eat at a semi-leisurely pace. To our credit, at least, we're starting to learn some lessons about the whole thing.
1. Bring other snacks. We love Mexican restaurants, because they usually bring chips and salsa quickly and he's into those things. Most other places don't bring the bread quickly enough, so we're glad to have a little thing of cereal to occupy him. Yes, most parents probably figure this out right away, and it took us quite a while, but whatever.
2. Bring activity books. Some restaurants have things to color and so forth, and they're great. Some don't, so we've recently figured out (yes, we're slow, we get it) to bring along a coloring book or something. We did today, and it bought us 5-10 extra minutes at the end of the meal before he was pretty insistent about going. Plus there was a big sleigh out on the porch that he wanted to see.
So dining out ended up being okay. And although this has nothing to do with anything, pretty much doing anything with Jack is entertaining these days, because he cracks us up. He sings kind of a lot, either the Backyardigans theme, or Twinkle Twinkle, or This Old Man, or a particularly amusing one, which requires interaction, where he says "And on this farm he had a....?" And then there's a long pause, him hanging on our answer with a big smile on his face, and we'll say, "Cow," and he'll say "Cow!" And then we'll start in with the "Moo Moo here," but he's already moved on: "And had a....?" Very entertaining.
Thursday we went to the Aquarium in Norwalk. That was also fun, as Jack was into the crabs (which he got to touch, even though he wasn't sure about it, and then another toddler was willing to, at which Jack changed his mind: "Want to touch it!"), and fish, and sharks, and octopus. Even though we couldn't see the octopus -- it might have been an empty tank for all I knew -- but I told Jack the octopus was sleeping, a fact (or guess) that he repeated for the rest of the day, as if for assurance. "The octopus was sleeping?" Hours later, talking with Mommy about the aquarium, he turns to me: "The octopus was sleeping?" And who knows, maybe it was.
The good thing about brunch is that there is usually a broad selection of fruit, which thus far has been the one food that can occupy Jack's attention for quite a while. Well, that and donuts. Another grandpa story is that he usually attends Jack's swimming lessons Saturday morning and brings donuts for afterward -- or rather, he brought them once, and that became the routine. So now Jack sees grandpa on Saturday morning and although he's always happy to see him, within the first few seconds comes the question: "You bring donuts?" Grandpa's birthday was Friday, and we wanted Jack to wish him a happy birthday when he saw him Saturday morning. "Jack, what are you going to say when you see grandpa?" "You bring donuts?" Um.....
So anyway, dining out is usually me shoveling in food while Emily entertains Jack, her eating while I entertain Jack, or both of us wolfing it down while Jack eats fruit. And then of course he gets interested in eating off our plates, drinking our milk or juice, or (if we're lucky) some other baby or one of the Rosenfeld girls, and then we both get to eat at a semi-leisurely pace. To our credit, at least, we're starting to learn some lessons about the whole thing.
1. Bring other snacks. We love Mexican restaurants, because they usually bring chips and salsa quickly and he's into those things. Most other places don't bring the bread quickly enough, so we're glad to have a little thing of cereal to occupy him. Yes, most parents probably figure this out right away, and it took us quite a while, but whatever.
2. Bring activity books. Some restaurants have things to color and so forth, and they're great. Some don't, so we've recently figured out (yes, we're slow, we get it) to bring along a coloring book or something. We did today, and it bought us 5-10 extra minutes at the end of the meal before he was pretty insistent about going. Plus there was a big sleigh out on the porch that he wanted to see.
So dining out ended up being okay. And although this has nothing to do with anything, pretty much doing anything with Jack is entertaining these days, because he cracks us up. He sings kind of a lot, either the Backyardigans theme, or Twinkle Twinkle, or This Old Man, or a particularly amusing one, which requires interaction, where he says "And on this farm he had a....?" And then there's a long pause, him hanging on our answer with a big smile on his face, and we'll say, "Cow," and he'll say "Cow!" And then we'll start in with the "Moo Moo here," but he's already moved on: "And had a....?" Very entertaining.
Thursday we went to the Aquarium in Norwalk. That was also fun, as Jack was into the crabs (which he got to touch, even though he wasn't sure about it, and then another toddler was willing to, at which Jack changed his mind: "Want to touch it!"), and fish, and sharks, and octopus. Even though we couldn't see the octopus -- it might have been an empty tank for all I knew -- but I told Jack the octopus was sleeping, a fact (or guess) that he repeated for the rest of the day, as if for assurance. "The octopus was sleeping?" Hours later, talking with Mommy about the aquarium, he turns to me: "The octopus was sleeping?" And who knows, maybe it was.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Another Solo Day
Had another solo day with Jack today -- as has been the case for a while, he's been in daycare Monday through Wednesday and alone with me Thursday and Friday. Sometimes I loan him out to relatives (Aunt Taffy, Grandpa) if I've got a commitment or they're available for part of the day), but lately everyone's been sick so it's pretty much been just us. Except for last Thursday and Friday, when he and I were both sick and miserable, so we borrowed Grandma for a few hours to keep me from going insane. (Naturally, she's now sick. Probably a coincidence.)
Anyway, despite the tough moments, which are mostly him wanting one thing one minute ("cereal!") and then changing his mind moments later ("I don't want CEREEEEAALLL!"), the days are usually fairly positive, and I'm starting to cling to the positive moments more as I feel, yes, that he's getting older. Plus we're going to be moving soon, ideally, and everything is going to get more complicated. And he's just getting bigger, and more talkative, and more engaging, and more demanding. "Daddy, do puzzle." And then: "Go work at your computer." And then: "I want a snack." This in the span of, oh, 5 minutes or so.
Jack's 2 and what's scary is he's never going to be 1 again, and those great days are gone. They're replaced by new great days, of course, but I'm already starting to get nostalgic about those. I know, it's nuts.
Anyway, today was nice, because I didn't try to work. I just tried to enjoy him, and deal with the negatives and embrace the positives. Watching Backyardigans with him ("They fell down aGEHN!"), reading Kat Kong ("Forget science -- think of the money we'll make!"), drawing pictures (His easel is currently an ode to Tyrone, the moose from Backyardigans, who I draw for him over, and over, and over). Tomorrow we'll draw more, read more stories, do puzzles, play with trains, and I'll probably try to get him to eat something besides his favorite foods right now: yogurt, and fruit. Saturday we'll go swimming and the grandparents will be around; Sunday is the Super Bowl. Monday he'll go back to daycare, and I guess I'll work as much as I can -- until it's Thursday, and another solo day comes around again.
It's too soon to miss the days I'm actually living in, so I guess I'll try to stop and just enjoy them while they're here.
Anyway, despite the tough moments, which are mostly him wanting one thing one minute ("cereal!") and then changing his mind moments later ("I don't want CEREEEEAALLL!"), the days are usually fairly positive, and I'm starting to cling to the positive moments more as I feel, yes, that he's getting older. Plus we're going to be moving soon, ideally, and everything is going to get more complicated. And he's just getting bigger, and more talkative, and more engaging, and more demanding. "Daddy, do puzzle." And then: "Go work at your computer." And then: "I want a snack." This in the span of, oh, 5 minutes or so.
Jack's 2 and what's scary is he's never going to be 1 again, and those great days are gone. They're replaced by new great days, of course, but I'm already starting to get nostalgic about those. I know, it's nuts.
Anyway, today was nice, because I didn't try to work. I just tried to enjoy him, and deal with the negatives and embrace the positives. Watching Backyardigans with him ("They fell down aGEHN!"), reading Kat Kong ("Forget science -- think of the money we'll make!"), drawing pictures (His easel is currently an ode to Tyrone, the moose from Backyardigans, who I draw for him over, and over, and over). Tomorrow we'll draw more, read more stories, do puzzles, play with trains, and I'll probably try to get him to eat something besides his favorite foods right now: yogurt, and fruit. Saturday we'll go swimming and the grandparents will be around; Sunday is the Super Bowl. Monday he'll go back to daycare, and I guess I'll work as much as I can -- until it's Thursday, and another solo day comes around again.
It's too soon to miss the days I'm actually living in, so I guess I'll try to stop and just enjoy them while they're here.
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