Big Boy Bed, Pink Eye, and More

Start with the worst, the pink eye. First off, giving Jack eye drops, not much fun. There has to be an easier way to give kids eye-related antibiotics. (Tomorrow Emily's calling to find out what it is.) He cries, he screws his eyes up, he twists away -- always at the exact instant the droplet of water, in slow motion, finally falls off the eye dropper. We did it for five days as instructed, 3 times a day, but either because we missed a couple of doses or some of the ones he did get were flawed in the delivery, or because he was re-exposed, or something else entirely, we're thinking he might have it again. So we've started giving them again, with jelly beans as before; it's about the only way we can get him not to pitch a fit about it. Giving a crying child with a runny nose (yes, he also has a bad cold) jelly beans creates a whole new set of problems, but you can probably figure it out.

The runny nose, also frustrating. He's not happy about it ("I have a BOOGER!" he wails), we're not happy about it, and it's all very messy, unsanitary, and probably not good when you're trying to get pink eye cleared up. The times when he doesn't have a cold seem to fly by, the times when he does seem to drag.

Despite that, there's some been some fun recently:

- Today, at Reanna's birthday party, the girls drew a hopscotch board in the driveway and started jumping around it. Jack, who primarily didn't want to give up the big car, which he loves, nonetheless got out of it to join in. But Jack just basically wanted to jump in the air and then drop on his knees, kind of like a frog. He doesn't quite get hopscotch yet.

- At the same party, all three of the girls were in a silly post-dinner mood, and wanted to entertain. Which was fine with Jack, who acts like he could sit there watching them sing and shout and jump around forever. Later came the running circles around the yard, pretending to be a train (Jack chimed in with saying "Choo-choo" and putting his fist in the air) and the dessert portion of the day, where Jack started out wanting cake and ended up drooling over apple pie, ice cream, and strawberries. I think he ate an entire strawberry patch. Grove? He ate a lot of strawberries, let's just say that.

Last Saturday we got Jack a mattress, and then this Saturday we picked it up. We kind of thought he might take a while to really get interested in sleeping on it, and felt the same way when we got it home and told him what it was for and he basically had no interest in it. Even after I cleared a spot in his room and put the mattress down, he was kind of like, eh, okay, I guess. But the idea of him sleeping on it seemed pretty remote.

And then Emily put nice sheets on the bed and all his stuffed toys and little blankets, and just like that, when he and I went in there after his bath, he acted like he'd been sleeping on it his entire life. Crawled up onto it, stretched out onto it, asked me to read him stories on it, and when I'd read all the books he picked out -- the same 8 short books I've been reading to him before and after virtually every nap and bedtime for the past week -- he said "Good night, Daddy." And lay down. I got up, said Good night, and left the room. And a few minutes later I listened at the door and he was singing Tyrone the Mailman quietly to himself, and when Emily and I looked in on him an hour later, he was sound asleep. Slept through the night. We're on night No. 2 and sleeptime No. 3, and so far, so good.

He didn't even need me to sing to him, as I always do when putting him into the crib, and while part of me was glad -- lately the songs have tended toward silly stuff like, yes, Tyrone the Mailman -- part of me also really missed it.

The next morning after his first night in the bed, of course, we were profusive with praise. And you could tell, he was pretty proud about it. So much so that when we talked to relatives that day, we put Jack on the phone. "Jack, where did you sleep last night?" "I slept in a BIG BOY BED!" he said. Darn straight.

A Good Day

Emily was putting Jack to bed; it's Friday night and I've just spent another day in charge of Jack. We went to the park (very cold, we didn't stay long), the library (very crowded, we stayed until it seemed likely things might end up in a fight over a book or puzzle), the grocery store, and home. Jack napped, we had macaroni and cheese, played a little, watched some TV, I kept him entertained.

I went up to bring Jack a glass of water and hug and kiss him good night. I sat down on the rug and held out my arms to him. He walked over, stood in front of me, and said, deliberately,

"I had a good day with you today."

And then he hugged me good night.

So, yeah, that's a good day.

Haircut

Jack's hair had gotten pretty long of late, but we had been meaning to get his 2-year-old picture taken, and didn't want to get it cut right before. Since he turned two three months ago, it had been a while since we'd taken him. I don't know if it had been three months, but if you're one of the ones who receives the pictures we had taken, you'll agree we probably should have gotten it cut a little sooner. Considering what a disaster going to get those pictures taken was -- he was tired and cranky and fussy and I don't think the woman much knew what she was doing -- the ideal would have been to simply leave a few minutes into the pictures and look around for a mall photo booth.

Anyway, yesterday I took him to get his haircut, and since he wasn't always happy during them, I talked it up a lot beforehand. And Jack remembered that this particular barber charmed him with lollipops during, or after, the cut. Me: "So tomorrow we'll get your haircut." Jack: "And he'll give me lollipops?" Me: "Yes, I believe he'll give you a lollipop." Jack: "He'll give me TWO lollipops?" Because that was the case at previous cuts. And I said, Yes, I'm sure you'll get two lollipops. And Jack said OK, and nodded a little.

I need to add here that Jack kind of rolls his "Ls" -- maybe I've mentioned this before. So when he says "lollipops," it comes out, "yoyyipops." Which of course is the cutest thing ever. "He gives me a yoyyipop?" Just classic. (I admit that when we're reading books together, I ask him to identify animals or various things that I know he knows what they are, just so I can hear him say them. "What's that?" I ask. "Yion," says Jack. And that? "Yeopard." And that? "A yemon." That's right, Jack. Really, I don't get tired of it.

To this point, no two haircuts have been the same for Jack. His first, in Denver when he was maybe a little over a year old (I'm sure we've got this written down somewhere), he sat very still in a little booster seat in the barber's chair -- petrified, I think -- while Mommy and Daddy shot video and took pictures and the barber clipped away. Since then he's sat on my lap each time, with hair falling all us while he either clutched tightly to me (once), was half asleep (once), cried and/or fidgeted (once or twice), and generally wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

His barber here in New York, Ruvo, this old guy who (judging from the pictures on the wall) has had a barber shop in the same place for probably 40-plus years, had clearly learned that the way to a young customer's heart is through lollipops, so at his last cut he said, if you sit still for Ruvo, I'm going to give you a lollipop. He held out the bowl of dum-dum lollipops to show him, and of course Jack wanted one right then, so Ruvo cut his hair while Jack ate a lollipop which gradually attracted pieces of Jack's cut hair, something even Jack didn't enjoy too much. So once he'd ruined that one with hair -- although he still wouldn't give it up -- Ruvo gave him a second one. So Jack sat on my lap with a lollipop clutched in each of his little hands, both becoming more and more ruined with stuck hair, and ate them while Ruvo cut his hair and it fell all over my shirt, my lap, Jack's shirt, etc. Great fun.

Yesterday's haircut was better. Ruvo promised him the lolllipops, and Jack seemed to understand that they would come ultimately, so he could wait. So he sat on my lap, with the cloth pulled tight around his shoulders, letting his hair be cut while he patiently waited for his lollipops. And every time Ruvo paused -- to change to the clippers, or get scissors, or whatever -- Jack said, "Lollipops now?" And Ruvo said, just another minute, and then I'll let you pick whatever color you want. Jack even had fun, and said so later, when the clippers tickled his neck. "That tickles," he laughed, and then said, "Again!"

We won't go so long without cutting his hair again, because not only was it fun, but even though we love Jack with long hair, Jack with short hair, and a haircut he doesn't protest all the way the through and let's the barber actually do his job, is worth it. Ruvo put gel in his hair and combed a smart little part, and all the rest of the day I couldn't stop looking at him, couldn't believe how heartbreakingly beautiful my son is.