Lots of stuff

Dang, I haven't blogged in two weeks. Way too long, especially with so much different stuff happening....

- Jack got the "Madagascar" DVD, and now walks around singing "I like to moob it, moob it. I like to moob it, moob it.

- I turned Kate's car seat around so that she faces front rather than back. She was wide-eyed as I strapped her into it for the first time, as if to say, HEY, what's this new development? Ultimately, she still wailed a little on the way home, as she normally does when she's wearing her bulky winter Michelin jacket and strapped into the car seat, but at least she was facing forward. Jack wanted to hold her hand, which was kind of sweet.

- Jack had lots of fun with the Imaginext castle playset Santa brought him for Christmas, his "big gift." This was something we decided on a few weeks before, found it online, and then managed to get the last one at a store nearby. And a dragon accessory, plus a few other things. I think it's an awesome toy, and I'm not just saying that because I play with it for half an hour every night after everyone else goes to bed. The best part is that Jack likes it too.

- Emily cut Kate's bangs. I think maybe they were keeping her up, or at least I tell myself that, because when she was rubbing her eyes when I was putting her to bed, she may also have been trying to get hair out of them. She looks totally different but still extra cute. And her hair isn't in her eyes anymore.

- Jack let his Baba put him to bed. Mom and Dad stayed here over Christmas, and Jack decided he wanted Baba to read him stories before bedtime. The stories he got to read were a Backyardigans book involving cops and robots (Jack had read it a hundred times and kept correcting him -- "No, that's UNIQUA") and then I think a Curious George story perhaps; he kept asking Dad questions like, "Why does an elephant pick up food with his NOSE?" and Dad would come up with the same kind of explanation I would; probably some truth and some guesswork, which was kind of funny. After stories Baba just turned out the light and Jack went to sleep, unlike with us where he comes out of his room for about half an hour straight.

- Kate got sick; her first winter in daycare has been rough. She was home with a fever for a couple of days and slept a lot, woke up and drank liquids, slept some more. But it was really fun having her home, actually; I forgot how much I missed her, and I think she was happy having the run of the place and not having to worry about Jack taking toys away or whatever. Aside from being sick, she was happy, anyway.

- Aunt Linda visited, and it was funny how Jack and Kate both immediately took to her. Kate was nervous for maybe a few minutes and then I walked into the kitchen and there was Aunt Linda holding her. Jack only wanted to go out to dinner if he could sit next to Aunt Linda. Both kids, in fact, were great with all the visitors and such over the holidays.

- Jack and I went sledding in the neighbor's driveway. It was great, because it was a place for Jack to sled and he had fun. It was bad, because the kids are a little older and Jack tries to make friends but he can't really relate to them. But, it was still very sweet to see him try.

- We talked to Aunt Robin and Jack and Kate's cousins via Skype, enabling Robin to see Kate in the dress she'd sent and Jack to show his various stuffed toys to the camera. Plus we got to see Robin's dog Bailey.

- Dad and I played cards and watched the end of Casablanca together. Perhaps one day, 30 or so years from now, I'll be doing that again from the other perspective.

- Kate started walking around saying "Hi.....Hi!......Hi...." And sticking out her tongue. Tonight I thought she had something in her mouth. I crouched down: Kate, what have you got in your mouth? She opened her mouth wide, stuck out her tongue, and laughed at me.

Football with my son

Jack and I went to the Jets game on Sunday. A friend had tickets that they couldn't use and we got them last minute; one of the joys of living in the big city. I hadn't really considered taking Jack to an NFL game yet -- unlike baseball, it's not really conducive to small children, for various reasons -- but it was last-minute and so I figured what the heck. One day he'll be able to say he saw Brett Favre play, even if he doesn't remember any of it.

The drive down was great; Jack fell asleep after about 10 minutes. We parked, Jack woke up, and we headed to the shuttle bus. "Hurry, Daddy, hurry!" That bus took us what seemed like about 200 yards to...the edge of another big parking lot, which we needed to hoof it across to get on ANOTHER bus that would take us to the stadium. "Where's the stadium?" asked Jack. Five minutes later. "Daddy....where's the STADIUM." (As an aside, I think I now know why it's called "satellite parking." It has to do with the distance.) Needless to say, I carried Jack a lot during this, but mostly it was because I was hurrying -- not because he was whining to be picked up. He was great.

Finally at the stadium, the whining did begin somewhat. "Daddy, I'm HUNGRY!!!!" "Can we get some food now?" "But I'm HUNGRY....." I should point out that at this point we're standing in line at one of the turnstiles, waiting to get in. No vendors out there.

We get inside -- we went in the first gate we came to -- and were only about half a mile from our seats. We went up the longest escalator Jack had ever been on, which I think he enjoyed, and stared into a sea of people. Jack, to his credit, did not flinch. He said, "Can we get food now?" With the game starting in roughly 10 minutes, I ended up picking Jack up and hauling it toward our seats. When we were fairly near, and there was a food stand without much of a line, I put him down and we went over to get food. Hotdog, French fries, water for him, beer for Daddy. Ketchup, mustard, etc. And then I realized, OK, I need to hold two hotdogs, French fries, water, and beer -- AND Jack's hand. (The last one is the most important, I know.) Plus I need to be able to check the tickets because I only know the section number, I don't know what row or seats or anything. And then I notice that people are walking faster because the game's about to start -- it just occurs to me now that I missed the National Anthem, I'm kind of sad about that. Maybe that's why the line was shorter to get hotdogs. Oh well.

So people are walking faster and I have an armful of food and Jack at my hand and I don't know exactly where the seats are, and Jack says "Can I get one of those hats?" People are wearing these green Jets Santa hats, and I admit I kind of like them. And I say, Jack, the game's about to start, I've got a supermarket in my arms here, let's go find our seats, we'll go get a hat at halftime. "What's halftime?"

We make our way down the stairs. I wish I could say I saw Jack's eyes go wide when he saw his first football field and all that, but given all the stuff in my arms and the fact that the game was starting and there were crowds of people all around us, and that he's a couple of feet or so shorter than I am and was wearing a winter hat and big jacket, that is not the case.

I point out our row and send Jack in; he sits in the first empty seat. This reminds me of our first movie together, when he sat down on the aisle step. The things you forget that kids don't know, because it's new to them. We get to our seats, sit down, I unload all the food, and I point out Brett Favre.

There was a lot more. Jack being a little overwhelmed by the crowd roaring after big plays, like a lengthy bootleg by Brett Favre that seemed to take about 10 minutes (probably seemed even longer for Favre). Me explaining to Jack that, yeah, there'd probably be a lot of yelling because people get excited about football games. "I think I just want to watch it on TV," said Jack after that, although he gradually came around. Jack pointing out other Santa hats in the stands. Us actually seeing Santa (although I don't believe it was the real Santa because this is his busy time and he wouldn't have been able to take in Jets-Bills). Us getting up at halftime, going to the bathroom (that was a hoot; we're in this big stall so he can pee and he's taking off his clothes like we're home and he's about to have a bath. Jack, what are you DOING?), going to the gift shop and not seeing the Santa hats but seeing a small stuffed bear. In a Santa outfit. WEARING a green Jets Santa hat. When Jack saw that I think his little heart just filled with joy; I will freely admit that going to a game with his Daddy and seeing The Meadowlands and all that paled next to that little bear. In a Santa outfit. Wearing a green Jets Santa hat.

On the way back to our seats after that, with Jack fairly walking on air, clutching his little Jets Shop bag with his new toy in it, it was halftime, so it was even more crowded than it was earlier. Jack was a trooper; the biggest problem was that there weren't many 3 year olds there, and thus there weren't many people his size there, so other people weren't looking for him. I kind of walked along with him behind me, clearing a path while holding his hand, but other people would see me and not him and, you know, there was jostling. But to his credit, and partly because he was happy about having his bear, he hung in there. Didn't squawk. Didn't complain.

People are nice, too. No question there were scores of drunken fools there, but when one guy who I might at a glance have put in that category careened into us as we walked down the stairs and he walked up, the guy stopped, helped me get Jack back to his feet, apologized to Jack and to me, and made sure we were OK before heading on his way. That sticks in my memory.

We left a little early; it started to get pretty cold. I carried him a lot on our two parking lot hikes and two different shuttle bus rides. And we were on the bus when we heard the Jets win.

Which was just a bonus.

Funny stories

There's a stomach bug going around Jack's school. We heard about it when Jack explained how one girl threw up during snack time when they were eating crackers. "All over the table!" said Jack, excitedly. But not on your crackers? Emily asked. "Oh no. She threw up on Teddy's crackers a little bit." Did Teddy get new crackers. "OH, yes."

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Jack caught the stomach bug, of course. Got sick tonight. Told me he had to, so we went and stood at the toilet. For about 5 minutes, nothing. So I (wait for it).......closed the lid, and we left. Two minutes later, Jack had to throw up. We got there, but didn't get the lid up in time. Lesson learned.

At bedtime, he wanted some water. Emily gave him a tiny bit, but said he couldn't have any more, since he'd just been sick. Naturally, shortly after that, he got sick. As he sat on his floor before getting back into bed, he said sadly, "I guess I shouldn't have had that water." Emily also told me he said, "I feel bad for myself being sick." He's been coming out with some great comments lately. I need to write more of them down. I forget them and a day later they're gone.

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Kate was home most of the week. She also got sick once, and had other stuff going on, one of which I can't even begin to spell and won't try. It was odd being home alone with her -- I was for the entire summer, and then not from September through now, with her in day care. Whenever she was home with me (Friday through Sunday), either Jack was here or Emily or both. First afternoon, she seemed to just love running around the house on her own (no need to worry about Jack playing with toys she wanted, or whatever).

The last two days, it was books and more books. What she does is she walks up to me in her little pigeontoed way, and she's holding a book in her hand. Or she's sad or clingy or whatever, and I say, do you want to read a book? Why don't you go get a book? And she goes and gets one. Little block books, board books, typically little small things -- Kate-sized.

I generally sit cross-legged on the floor ("criss-cross applesauce," according to Jack, which is also a verb in Jack speak -- "Are you criss-cross applesaucing?"). She walks up to me, turns around, then backs up the rest of the way. Sits down on my legs like I'm her chair. Little smile on her face that I can kind of see as she backs up.

And that's pretty much how we spent the last two days around the house, her bringing me books, backing up to sit down, and us reading them. Over and over and over.

Binkit

When I was little I had a blanket. Kate doesn't have one (yet; we're going to have to change that). Tonight she was in her pajamas, just before going to bed, and I had just given Jack his bath. He was getting into his pajamas and his towel was kind of crumpled on the floor.

She went over to it. Picked it up. Walked a few steps away with it, still holding it. I took it back, thinking, ugh, wet towel. She came over to me and took it back. "Aaa!" she said, in protest. All righty, I'm thinking. She does love the Boynton book, "Dinosaur's Binkit," so.....

She carried the towel around with her for the next 10 minutes. At some point she was distracted and set it down for a minute, and Emily stowed it away.

Gonna have to get her a blanket, though.

The Grinch

Jack came into the kitchen yesterday morning; he'd been out in the living room watching The Grinch.

"Daddy, The Grinch isn't a person. He's a MONSTER."

"He is?"

"Yes. The song says so."

So there you go.

Giving Thanks

I'm thankful that Jack and Kate are the kids they are. Jack drives me up the wall sometimes with his reluctance to eat, stalling about going to bed, and other mild annoyances. But he's also a tremendously sweet kid, thoughtful, drawing pictures for us ("This one is for Mommy. Now I will make one for you. I will always make you pictures."), bringing Kate toys when she's crying ("Here, Kate. Here's a pirate guy. Here."), being kind without any sort of guile.

Kate just makes me laugh. She's totally into walking around, grabbing things, thrill-seeking. Going up stairs, going down stairs, climbing onto footstools. At Aunt Cathy's, there was a Kitchen Aid Mixer on the floor. She went up to it and tried to climb onto it like a horse. She sees Jack and the girls playing with something and she goes over and gets involved, usually by walking through it. "No, Dogzilla!" Jack says, in reference to a kids book we read sometimes. She is Dogzilla, a walking engine of destruction, and it's a riot.

I'm thankful it's bedtime.

Drawing Kate

Kate has always liked Jack's markers; she'd grab them and walk around with them clutched tightly in each little fist. She's not strong enough to get the tops off, so it's not a worry yet. Now she's interested in the easel. Jack and I had made a picture recently; she at some point had used a marker (with the top on it) to smear all the dry-erase ink around.

So last night I sat down at the board with her. I drew with a marker, she whacked at it with a marker with the top still on. I took the top off and gave the marker back to her, showing her how to make actual marks on the board. She immediately went to lick the marker. I took it away; she cried; I tried again. This repeated, until I gave her back the marker with the cap on. She gave me a look and walked off with the marker. My marker, I could tell she was thinking.

After a minute, she came back to the board. Stood next to me. Looked at me with a big, broad smile. Looked at the capped marker in her hand. And then turned to the easel and whacked at it again. For a while we drew together, me making marks, her whacking at the marks. Chiming in her trademark "Aaaaa-aaaa-AAAAA!" Throwing me a grin every now and again.

For now, I guess, that's drawing Kate.

Blob about the Aquarium

I took the kids to the Maritime Aquarium yesterday. I was so tired later that when I wrote a note to myself to blog about it, I wrote down "Blob about the Aquarium."

Basically I've come to realize, though, that if we don't get out of the house and do something on Friday, we all go insane. With Jack it manifests as whining, with Kate it manifests as general crankiness, with me it's a little of both. Anyway, going out is better. So after Kate's nap yesterday I rounded them up in the car and we headed off to the Aquarium. Membership has its privileges.

Jack likes to climb up on steps in front of some displays to see the fish up close. I held Kate up and she was into it but also maybe a little taken aback when they swam right up close to her (which is understandable). But mostly she was into it. This is the first time we'd gone since she's been walking, so it was cool to see her walk around in the rooms with tanks all over the place. I think mostly she liked having a huge room to walk in.

At the starfish and crab tank, there was a huge class of kids, which was frustrating to Jack. And then to both of us when we came back again 10 minutes later and there was a different huge class of kids. Definitely a drawback with the Aquarium: huge classes of kids on occasion. And I could hold Jack up some, but holding up both Kate and Jack was a challenge, to say the least.

At the shark tank, we all enjoy it, but the kids lose interest far sooner than I do.

I'm a little concerned about the tank with the big sea turtles in it. Six months ago there were 2 huge turtles. One even swam up to the glass and waved at us. That was great. Three months ago, there was only 1 huge turtle. Yesterday, there was 1 small turtle. Jack asked me where the big one was. I said, well, he must be out exercising in the yard. I don't know, it was all I could think of.

The Aquarium has a play area/tumble room type place for kids under 5. Lots of mats and things to climb over and jump on. I wanted to take Jack there, one to get him some exercise, and two because he can be shy in those situations. We went, and for a few minutes he clung to my leg. Kate immediately walked around and around and around, and side to side. "Aaaa-aaaa-AAAA!" she said happily. There were two little girls Jack's age. Jack went to grab something near them, and one of them said to him it was hers. Jack, rebuffed, came back over to me. I was as crushed as he was, and then the girls' Mom told them to invite Jack to help them build something or whatever. The girl came over and was all like a teacher: "Hi, do you want to help us? We're building a fort...." Jack was still in a shell. I encouraged him, but it didn't happen. At first. Five minutes later, though, they were carrying some bouncy pad thing, and he went and helped them. And they played together. I burst into song. OK, not really. But I was happy for the little guy and beamed at the girls' mother. Later, Jack talked to their Mom, rambling away about "My Daddy said....my Daddy took us here to.....Yes." (His new favorite word is Yes; I think he'd said yeah for a while, but now everything is, "Jack, do you want to go with us?" "Yes." "Jack, would you like some milk?" "Yes." Very matter of fact, you probably have to hear it, but it's a riot. Anyway.) "Well, I like the sharks and the turtles but I didn't know where the big turtle was and I....."

Kate continued to run around as if she'd been locked up in a cell for the past week. "Aaaa-aaaa-AAAA!" Turning to look at me with a big smile every once in a while. Coming over, then heading back out. She was a big fan. Clearly, they both need Friday activities, even if it's just running around a mall play area or something. Maybe next week.

I think they both liked it more than the Aquarium.

Charades

Rainy and gloomy Saturday afternoon at home, and we didn't think to have a kids movie on hand -- have to get that fixed in the future. Anyway, Emily came up with the idea of playing Charades, which we explained to Jack and he seemed fine with it. Daddy started.

I got on my hands and knees and let my arm trail down from my head and made trumpeting noises. I think Jack guessed a variety of things including "dog" and "ghost" before Emily guessed elephant. Then it was Jack's turn. He thought for a minute, got a little smile, then jumped up and down, smiling. We guessed a few things before "bunny," which was correct. We all took turns again, then came back to Jack.

Again, he jumped up and down in place. Er...frog? No. Jumping bean? No. Bunny? "Yup!"

We all took turns again. Back to Jack. He jumped up and down in place. Frog? "YES!"

Kind of funny.

Sick Kate

Kate got sent home sick from daycare yesterday; well, they didn't make her go home alone, they called me. Fever of 101.9. I got her, figured, well, no biggie, we'll get her some liquids and rest and she'll be fine, little cold or virus. Turned out being pretty scary, initially because she did this thing where I thought she was awake and I picked her up and her eyes were open but not focusing on me and she was kind of limp and moaning...turns out she was asleep, or mostly asleep, so heavily that she didn't even know I was there. Took me 10 minutes of near panic and debating with myself, is she asleep or is she awake and disoriented, what should I do, is she OK, why don't I call...Oh. She's sleeping.

Anyway. She slept well last night and seemed mostly OK this morning, but come this afternoon she was starting to feel really warm. Temperature of 102.1. So, I took her to the doctor. She was OK in the waiting room, looking at the fish in the tank and pointing at things: "Yes, Light, Katie. Uh-huh, Fish. That's a little girl. Yup, another light." Fine in the office, until she saw the doctor, the same one who gave her a flu shot less than two weeks ago. She appeared to remember, clinging to me and wailing. That was fun. "So yes, Doctor, I, excuse me, I TOOK HER TEMPERATURE...Katie, it's okay....AND IT WAS...."

Turns out she's getting molars and has a cold or virus of some sort, so yeah, she's not feeling too great. Rest and liquids and maybe Tylenol. We went home and she fell asleep in the car, so I let her sleep in the garage (it's downstairs from our living room for about 20 minutes -- her first garage nap, actually). When she woke up she just wanted to be held, so I held her in my arm like a baby and watched a little bit of Resident Evil, which yes is a really inappropriate choice but her eyes were closed, I promise. And we did that until Mommy and Jack got home.

It's funny the difference. When she's healthy, she's a little dynamo, pulling toys off shelves and magazines off coffee tables, making a beeline for the stairs as soon as my back is turned (and when she reaches the stairs, turning to look for me, so she can smile and say, "Da!" As in, that's right, I'm going up the stairs again, oh yeah, that's right." Sick, she's like the anti-Kate. No energy. She actually crawled a little bit today. No desire to do anything but sit in my arms, find Mr. Thumb, and half-sleep or sleep.

She rallied this evening, walking around a little with her rings on her arm (note picture from a week ago) which was huge progress for her. And hopefully we'll all sleep. Good night.

Scared Jack

Is there anything worse than seeing your child scared of something? It's gotta be up there pretty high.

Jack's been having accidents at night, after a few months of sleeping fine in underwear. He comes into our room, says he's wet, we go in the bathroom and I clean him up. I guess one night the water wasn't quite warm enough when I did that, because the next night I was soaking the towel -- after waiting for the water to warm up, it takes forever -- and he shrunk away from me, across the bathroom, fearful. It was terrible. "Jack!" I said. "What's wrong?" "I don't want that cold water....no...." I just felt horrible. "I'll warm it up, Jack. I promise. It will be OK." He came back over to me, slowly. I made sure the water was warm.

Today was Halloween at his school, and I brought him and Kate in. First we dropped her off, then brought him up to his room. He was all happy and excited, going down the hallway in his Flash costume. Walked in the room, and it was packed. All the kids in costumes, a bunch of parents. He clung to my leg, nervous, fearful. Kids were saying, "Great costume, Jack!" Miss Ruthie was saying, come, sit down over here, we're decorating cupcakes. Jack just clung to me. He's like this on occasion, at parties and stuff, but these were actually his friends (albeit in costume). What's wrong, Jack, I said. "I want to go home," he said. We didn't, and things got better, but it was pretty bad for a few minutes. I left after a bit to check on Kate. When I came out I saw him, and he was OK, but apparently he'd been crying. Kind of rough.

Later, he was OK. At his cousins. Trick or treating that night. You hope that he's not going to be scared like that again. Or at least, not more than anyone else, I guess.

Quickly...

Because it's late and I'm tired, but today the kids are great because....

- I got to sit and watch "Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown" with Jack, and he laughed and smiled at all the right places, like Charlie Brown getting rocks in his bag and Snoopy dancing to Schroeder's piano

- Kate brings us a book when we're sitting on the floor, hands it to us, then turns, sticks her butt out, and sits on us like we're a chair. It just doesn't get old.

- I carved a pumpkin with Jack last week and will do another one, I suspect, tomorrow. He calls it "Pum."

- Jack asked what things are out in the night. Huh? I said. "You know, what things are there that are out in the night." And I thought a minute and said, Uh, bats. And he said, "I can't see them." And I said, well no, they're black, that's the point. And he asked what else. And I said, well, spiders....cats....wolves.... And he said, "I'm going to be a wolf now." And he was a wolf for the next half hour or so, then said, "I'm very sleepy. Wolf needs to go to bed now." And so we did.

Bookish

Somewhere in the last couple of months Kate started getting into her books. We'd been reading them to her for a while, every night before bed, but with me she usually thrashed about and was just anxious to get me out of there and get Mommy in there. (She still nurses to bed.)

Eventually, it reached a point where she started to show some interest. I still don't think she was terribly into it, but she at least sat quietly on my lap and looked. Mostly Boynton books. "Moo Baa La La La," and "Dinosaur's Binkit," and "The Going to Bed Book."

At some point she began pointing to things. And then, recently, she exhibited clear preferences.

Emily told me first. She had been reading Moo Baa La La La. She put it aside and pulled out "Guess How Much I Love You." Kate took the book out of her hand, dropped it on the floor, and leaned over to grab "Moo Baa La La La."

Later she did the same thing with me. Climbed out of my lap, crawled across the floor, got the book she wanted (I think this time it was the Going to Bed Book), and brought it to me. Said, "Da!" (This one, Daddy. THIS is the book I want you to read me.)

Now she sits patiently and beams at each page. Smiles at the "Moo" sounds. Sometimes she turns the pages -- I kind of get a kick out of her little hands bringing the little board book up close to her, focusing on the pages, opening them. Sometimes she gets tired of one book halfway through, grabs it, drops it, and goes to get another one. Then goes back to the first one.

Yesterday morning I was sitting in the rocking chair in her room. She brought me book after book after book. "Da. DA! Da." Smiled and waved the book to me before bringing it over. Climbed up into my lap once I had four of them. So, I read them.

Emily came and stood in the doorway. "You miss her, don't you?" (She started daycare a month ago, four days a week.) Yeah, I kind of do.

Bath time

Jack has a bath every night, and normally I give it to him -- normally Emily is putting Kate to bed around then. To Jack it's a big thrill how now he gets to go downstairs and play after his bath; this is because we give him his bath earlier so Kate's still awake when it's going on, since it can be noisy.

Tonight I sat and watched him play, with several different little squirty animal bath toys: alligator, seahorse, sting ray. He had set the alligator aside and was playing with the seahorse (which he referred to as "the brother") and the sting ray ("sister"). And the seahorse was showing the sister what to do and instructing her on how to do or not do things.

"See," he was saying, "you jump over here like this." And he had the seahorse leap from one side of the tub to the other. "Now you do it, and you get a gold medal." (This is most likely a Backyardigans reference, from an episode called "Race around the world.") The sting ray jumped too. "That's right, sister. Here is your gold medal. Oh, thank you. And here's my gold medal too."

I watched this for about 10 minutes or so. I'm not sure he noticed I was there.

Walking

Kate started walking last week, which was pretty cool.

It started out with her pushing this walker thing around. Actually, it probably started with her standing up on her own, more and more often. And then walking around holding on to one of our fingers for balance. And then standing up a few feet from us, taking one step, and falling into our arms. She did all that stuff more and more, and then all of a sudden she was cruising around at high speeds pushing the walker thing, like a woman in a shopping cart race. I mean, she was really moving. And there was a glee to it all, a "HA! Look at me! Out of my way! Look at me! Ha!" She was crashing about and pivoting and lifting the walker to position it a certain way -- and not falling. It wasn't even supporting her anymore, it was just there.

Then she started walking one day, a few excited steps from Emily to the table, or the table to Emily, or her to me. Huge open-mouthed toothy grin on her face, a kind of madness in her eyes, defiance, accomplishment. "Finally....finally...I'm WALKING! Ah-HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Really, that's kind of what it was like.

Not that she still doesn't like grabbing the walker and ramming it around the house, mind you. Much to Jack's dismay as she comes near a puzzle he's doing or something: "NOOOOO Kate! NOOOO!"

She's gonna be a handful, we can tell.

The Rainbow Man

Jack started drawing faces recently, as I mentioned in the past. He's stepped it up recently, using different colored crayons to create a single face. An orange eye, a green eye, a blue nose, a purple mouth. He calls it The Rainbow Man.

It's absolutely great. They all -- I think he's drawn about 20 or 30 over the past week -- have the rainbow element in common, but each one is slightly different. A misshaped oval head that looks like anything from a balloon to a potato to a peanut. (The best ones, in my opinion, have big ol' chins.) Two fried egg eyes, usually different sizes (but not always). A big round W.C. Fields nose. And then a loopy, crooked grin that starts below one eye and goes all the way down to the bottom and curves up again. Three hairs sticking up straight from the top of his head. Eyebrows sometimes. Ears, on occasion; sometimes yes, sometimes no. All the faces are happy, goofy, beautiful. He could make 100 or 200 and I'd never grow tired of them. Rainbow Man.

Tonight he asked me to draw one, and I agreed. Got out a bunch of different colored crayons ("Get a lot of colors, Daddy," he said), and then drew one much like his. Only not. It was awkward. The head was too normal shaped. The misshapen eyes too intentional. It was like an adult trying to copy a child's work, which of course it was, and it doesn't work.

I said to Jack, well, you make much better Rainbow Men than Daddy. But Jack was very encouraging. "That's good, Daddy. I think you made a very nice Rainbow Man." That might have been the best part of the whole thing -- Jack trying to make me feel better about a picture that was obviously nowhere near as awesome as his own.

I have one hanging on my wall. There are a bunch on Jack's wall -- he keeps wanting to hang more -- and a stack on the dining room table. Perhaps I'll make them into a book one day.

Rainbow Man.

Apples

We went apple picking today. It's a great thing to do with kids, evidently, because everyone there was doing it with their kids. Anyway, Jack was really into the idea, and the Rosenfelds go every year, so we got in our car and headed out, I guess in Fairfield or somewhere.

First we rode in a big cart being pulled by a tractor. That was kind of cool. Went out in the middle of this orchard where I had images of a Steinbeck novel. Whose title I've forgotten, but it had something to do with apples. I wore the Baby Bjorn with Kate in it. We picked an apple as we walked along. I took a bite. Put it in front of Kate so she could kind of take a bite. Then handed it to Jack.

As Jack took a bite, she started to protest. AAAAaaaaAAAAaaaaAAAAA! She said. I got the apple back from Jack (Emily got him another one) and gave it back to Kate. Who clutched it in both hands and gnawed it contentedly.

We spent about the next 45 minutes walking around the apple orchard. She did not let go of the apple. She was quiet, contentedly gnawing it, gumming it, biting it with her four total teeth. Still holding it as we walked along, finished picking, got back in the tractor cart, and rode down to the parking lot.

By the end it was a little, wet, lumpy, gummed-over apple core, that had been mashed and bitten and de-juiced.

And Kate was happy.

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We were getting ready for bed tonight, in Jack's room, and Kate crawled in. I've already forgotten if I was singing, or the Fun Fair was playing music. Anyway, Kate stood up, feet planted, and started dancing in place. Sort of swaying and grooving, feet not moving, body rocking side to side. Jack was also dancing, kind of running in circles, which he does sometimes.

I said to Emily, when she came in, "Kate was doing the twist."

Jack looked up from his running in circles, and said, "Mommy, I'm doing the round."

Mr. Clean

Jack went up to his room today. He was tired of Kate playing with all of his toys (even though about half of them, at least, were her toys that she'd gotten the previous day for her birthday), and Emily said, if you don't want her to play with them, you're going to have to go upstairs. So he gathered up some toys, mostly hers, and went upstairs.

A little while later he came down to tell us he cleaned his room. Emily went up with Kate, then called me up to see. He'd cleaned his room! Really! The thing was spotless. Granted, his two huge stuffed things, monkey and duck, were in our room, but still. The floor was entirely cleared; things were up on top of his toy chest, books put away, etc. Amusingly, as I walked in, he played a note on this little laptop computer toy Kate had gotten for her birthday. The note went, "Ta-daa!!!!"

As we were marveling, Jack got onto his bed with this little laptop toy and said, "I have to work at my computer now. Goodbye, family." (This is apparently something I say at times.) And so we left. Pretty funny.

Day care

It's Kate's birthday tomorrow. And then Monday, she starts day care.

I know parents feeling guilty about bringing their children to day care is a cliche. and the fact that Jack has been going there almost his whole life and we think it's been great for him makes it seem particularly silly. But I do feel guilty, and worse, I think I'm going to miss having her around.

I work from home, and it's a challenge with her here full time, as she's always been. I work during her naps, and then I work late at night and sometimes early in the morning. I manage. Her not being here will make it easier on me, so I won't be sitting here working at 10 at night on Friday.

But, she also won't be here to make me laugh by laughing.

To crawl over to me and force her way into my arms or lap.

To do her little dance while holding onto her table, listening to some silly music.

To pull all of Jack's toys off his shelves that I'd just put back half an hour earlier. To pull all the magazines off the coffee table, one by one, that I'd just finished stacking there an hour earlier.

To make her hourly beeline for the stairs, where she'd start to crawl up them, stop, and look at me, as if to say, "Better come get me, or I'm going to crawl up the stairs. Look, I'm on the second one. I'm not stopping. Still going up." And then I go get her.

To inhale slices of avocado at lunch.

To greet me with a big smile and giddy laugh at her crib when I go to get her after her nap.

To soil her diaper within 10 minutes after I changed it.

To kick me while I change her diaper.

To go to the supermarket with me and draw oohs and aahs from the checkout ladies and other customers. To sit patiently in the cart while I'm picking out corn or fruit or bread.

To join me when I go pick up big brother Jack at day care.

To sit, enraptured, while I read Dinosaur's Binkit, or Moo Baa La La La. Then to protest if I don't start reading again.

To yell at me from her high chair if I'm not bringing her food quickly enough and there's a few seconds when she has no food in front of her. She actually yells.

To crawl to me, either happy or sad or angry. Again and again and again.

I think day care will be good. I think I need to get work done during day time hours, and maybe even get out on my own every once in a while to go to the gym or something. I think she needs to interact with other babies and toddlers, other little kids (I don't know a lot of Moms to have play dates with).

But I'll miss her. I miss her already. I think she'll be going home early sometimes, just so I can have her with me to keep me from working, and make me smile.

Random

Jack climbed into bed this morning. He said, "Remember when I had my surgery?" It was just a shade over a year ago. Yes, Jack. "Remember when I got those three bears, because I was so brave?" He'd gotten 2 (actually) little stuffed bears. Yes, Jack. "And remember they had little shirts on? I don't know where those are." Then: "I can still see my surgery." He has very, very faint scars. Yes, a little bit. But not much.

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When I pick Kate up out of the crib, she kind of does a full body hug, pressing her face and neck into my shoulder. That's nice.


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She claps when she's happy. Sometimes it's in response to something, like us laughing or clapping, and sometimes she just all of a sudden smiles and claps, like she's thought of something wonderful.


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She's standing up a lot now. On her own. Not walking yet. I sit facing her, when she's standing, and hold my hand out, to get her to walk. What she does is take one step and then flop forward into my arms, laughing. She's getting there.

Catching Up

Sometimes you get busy, and there's not enough time to take everything down. It's too bad, because the stuff you forget to write about can be pretty memorable....

Kate likes to play peek-a-boo, and normally she initiates it, cracking herself up. With her dress when I'm changing her diaper -- she yanks it over her face, then flips it down again. I say "Peek-a-boo." She burbles with laughter.

Jack drew a picture yesterday that floored me. It was a face, a big head with two fried-egg eyes, a round nose, and a crooked grin. So many of his pictures, he just likes to scribble. Which is fine and all. But this was an actual recognizable image -- I couldn't believe it. I still can't.

Kate also plays the game standing up, on all fours, like a bent over newspaper. She peeks between her legs, sees me, I say Peek-a-boo, and she gurgles happily.

Today Jack drew a picture on his easel that looks kind of like a jellyfish, or a big bug. Again, with a face, eyes, a nose, a wide, looping smile. "And lots and lots of legs -- LOOK at all his LEGS!" said Jack. Indeed.

Last week I was alone with the two of them for almost the entire week, plus I had twice as much work as normal. The great thing is that they actually do play together, kind of. Which is to say, Jack plays with something, and Kate elbows her way into the game, usually to Jack's dismay. Kate's not really ready for Lincoln Logs, as a for instance. Still, it was fun seeing them kind of play. They play with this musical "Fun Fair" together, that Jack got when he was a year old. Last week we discovered new music from it. Kate kind of sits on her knees and bounces slightly to the music. Jack plays a tune, runs off and does something else, comes back, plays a new tune. They kind of played with this Martian game that Jack got on his third birthday from his Irish cousins. For whatever reason, Kate loves the little Martians -- they're the right size to hold in her hands, I guess. She crawls around clutching them. They go whack (pause), whack (pause), whack (pause) on the floor. It's pretty cute.

Jack didn't nap all week. Plus they both had runny noses for much of it. Kate slept well at night, exhausted. Jack woke up too much, didn't sleep enough, and was exhausted, a little bit more with each day as the week wore on. By the end, he was a real mess. Now he's back at school, and napping. Whew.

I'll try to catch up on some more stuff next time.

Superheroes

I was putting Jack to bed last night, and he wanted to hear a story about superheroes battling monsters. It's a recurring theme. I started telling it ("The Superheroes heard about a group of monsters causing trouble, so they went out looking for them. They found them on the moon...."), and listed the various heroes: Spider-Man, the Hulk, Warlock, Batgirl, the Flash. And then Jack broke in, all excited, "And Sabby Soapy!" And I said, uh, who? And he said again, "Sabby Soapy...he's MY superhero."

So I said, well OK, tell me about him. And Jack said, "Well, he's fast. And he's got a scary mask, like " -- he put his fingers in circles over his eyes -- "like this. And he's got boots. And he does this:" Here, Jack punched the air in front of him, sort of like The Karate Kid or something. "And, and...he's got tiny feet." Here he nodded, knowingly, as if explaining something to a small child. "He kind of looks like a baby. He's sort of the baby superhero."

This morning, I asked Jack about him again. It appears that Sabby Soapy has acquired the same powers as the other superheroes. "He makes big webs, like THIS." (Jack waved his arms in the air.) "And he KICKS bad guys. And monsters."

I think Jack will like Calvin and Hobbes one day.

Catching Up

Aunt Robin and her beautiful children visited, I had a birthday, and a whole lot of other stuff happened. I'm going to try to pick some highlights out of the past week...

August 4th - Robin and the kids arrive late afternoon. We go out for Mexican food, where most of the kids try something Mexican for the first time (quesadillas). Jack has chicken fingers, and I again think about him consuming a taco at Benny's in Denver, when he was just a year and a half old. Sometimes he eats tacos. He does like chips and salsa. Laura and Niamh get slushy drinks, I think a daquiri and a pina colada (non-alcohol, of course). I think Niamh said it was her first one.

The sleeping arrangements entails the twins on an aero bed in Jack's room, although Jack wants to sleep on the aero bed so Mikey takes Jack's bed. They're all still awake, talking and stuff, at 9:30. Good grief. The rest of us are all up until around midnight. Kate wakes everyone up the next morning before 6.

August 5th - It's my birthday, and there are indications that Brett Favre might be traded to the Vikings. I really don't want that event, which is pretty much akin to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse showing up in my eyes, to occur on my birthday. It doesn't. Two days later he's traded to the Jets, who are as close to a local team there is. Whoohoo!

We had some crazy idea that we would go on the Circle Line boat tour of New York City today. For that to happen, we'd need to be out of the house around 9 a.m. No one is moving that quickly. Instead we opt for the aquarium, where a good time is had by all. The Octopus is particularly impressive, doing a little dance in front of the glass for us. There's a rare white alligator that looks quite content to sleep all day, though he does crack an eyelid at us once or twice. The sharks, as always, are cool. We have fun in the gift shop too. We watch the seals get fed. Robin gets some good pictures of the kids behind these big turtle shells. Jack wants to throw money into this thing that's supposed to be cool because the money does spirals and stuff. He essentially just wants to throw money into it. Kids today.

The Rosenfelds and their kids show up. Lyndsay and Stacey and Abbey become friends instantly. All 8 kids (not counting Kate) run wildly around the upstairs, downstairs, and back yard for the next hour or so (and then again after dinner and cake). It's chaos, but fun.

Red wine, pizza, pie, and ice cream rule at my birthday party. Kids take control of the balloons but don't fight too fiercely over the Spider-Man and Superman ones. Each of the kids makes me a handmade birthday card; all unique and clever and beautiful. We stay up late watching Jaws for the 87th time. "Amity, as you know, means friendship."

August 6th - We sleep until 6:30, which feels like a victory of some kind. Then we go to Old Navy, shopping, which is what Robin and the girls want to do; I take Jack and Mikey to the comic store. I tell them I'll buy them one comic book or one toy. Shockingly, they opt for the toys, a pair of superhero action figures. Female! The selection was poor. I'm relieved that neither wrenches something really expensive to the floor in the tiny, cramped little comic shop, forcing me to purchase some $300 comic from the '60s that a 3-year-old just stepped on.

They leave, and our house is quiet and comparatively empty. Jack falls asleep about 10 words into "Swing on a Star" -- the fastest he's fallen asleep in probably ever. A good time was had by all.

August 7th - Favre is traded to the Jets. I tell Jack this, realizing it will be no different for him, except maybe next season we'll go see him play in person, should Favre play two more years.

August 8th - Home with Jack and Kate. Jack has a couple of bathroom accidents. The second one I'm fuming. Jack, standing in the bathroom in a puddle, looks at me. "I didn't mean to do it," he says. I melt. "I know, Jack. I know."

I bring him upstairs for a bath from the waist down. As I'm standing him there, running his bath, he looks at me. He kind of has the anxious eyes and stiff upper lip like he's going to cry. I actually don't think I've seen that look before. I hug him. He's a beautiful little kid.

It was a week.

Sweet kid

Emily went grocery shopping with Jack today, stocking up for the cousins' visit. As they were walking down the bread aisle, Jack pointed out the Cinnamon Swirl bread. "We have to get that -- Mikey really likes it."

Kate had a small block in her hand yesterday, too small for her to have since it would fit in her mouth. Jack took it away. She cried. He handed her a toy tomato from his plastic food toys. "Here, Kate." She stopped crying and looked at him like he was the greatest thing in the world. (Pretty much as she always does.)

On Friday, Jack was hoping to go next door to play with Max. He spent much of the afternoon checking the window. "Is Max outside?" "Is Max there yet?" When we finally did see Max, Jack was very obedient about going to the bathroom, putting his sandals on, waiting for Katie to have her bottle (OK, not really: "She can have her bottle over THERE.....But she can have her bottle over THERE.....") . When Jack saw Max, the two rejoiced like they hadn't seen each other in ages, then ran about jumping in the wading pool and stuff. Pretty cute.

We gave Jack a few new bath toys last night, including a Walrus, which was immediately his favorite. He paired it up with the Walrus he acquired from Aunt Cathy. "This is the Daddy Walrus and this is the baby Walrus. Where's the Mommy Walrus?" So yeah, I'll be looking for another Walrus bath toy soon. And a baby sister Walrus. And...

In Vermont last week, Jack was riding in his car seat in the Odyssey with my Dad, Robin, and all his cousins. He said to Robin, "I want you and Baba to move closer to me." Robin, thinking he meant in the car, said, "Well, Baba can't get closer, he has to drive the car." Jack explained, "No, I want you to move closer to my HOUSE....."

Cousins

The family headed up to Vermont last week, to see visiting cousins from Ireland. It was 2 years ago -- wow -- when we'd last seen them, meaning Jack was 1 1/2 and probably didn't remember any of them, and Kate hadn't met them at all. Pretty much no way I can recap the entire weekend, so instead I'll go with a stream 0f consciousness type collection of random moments....

- The drive up was about 90 minutes too long thanks to a weather-related traffic jam leaving town, wasting 45 minutes (during which Kate slept) and having her awake and wailing for far more of the trip than we'd have liked. Jack wasn't too thrilled with the whole thing either, but he did have a good nap. Emily briefly distracted him by getting him to count how long it took for a red light to turn green. Good fun.

- We got to Vermont and were descended on by the cousins. Having not seen them all for a couple years, they all seemed huge. Laura is almost as tall as Robin, Niamh is also tall, both the twins are narrow reeds. Jack and Kate both clung to us for about 5 minutes, then suddenly Jack and Mikey were playing with some toy and then all of them were running madly around the house. We basically didn't even see Jack for about the next 2 hours after arrival; he and his cousins were having so much fun. Kate ultimately relaxed too, spending a decent portion of the weekend being lugged around on Niamh's hip; Laura held her a lot and fed her lunch one day. The most time I spent with her all weekend was when I wore the Baby Bjorn for Mini-Golf.

- With four new names to learn, Jack instead opted for more generic labels. Mikey was "My boy cousin." (Which is actually specific, since he's the only one.) Abbey was "my girl cousin," Niamh was "my other girl cousin," and Laura was also "my other girl cousin." Sometimes it would be "my girl cousin who I jumped on the bouncy bed with." It was pretty funny. "I want to sit next to my boy cousin." "Where is my girl cousin." At times, he was in awe of all of them, each of them, on different occasions. He'd want me to get lost, as an example; didn't want to seem to need his Daddy around. He'd want to have the same food or sit in the same chair or do the exact same thing as "my boy cousin." Granted, there were also moments where they fought ("My boy cousin hit me!"), but for the most part he was mesmerized by all of them.

- Mikey's favorite toy was this little dragon he had just got; that was a source of great angst over the next day or two. (Until I relented and just went to Claremont and bought Jack one.) On one occasion Jack got his hands on the dragon; I heard a cry of woe from Mikey and then saw Jack running toward me, dragon clutched in his hands, Mikey hot on his heels. It ended in tears of course, but still kind of amusing in retrospect.

- We'd brought all these little dresses for Kate, in which she just is achingly beautiful, then couldn't dress her in any of them because it was too cold. Fortunately Robin dressed her in one on the last day, over a onesie and pajama bottoms.

- Laura mentioned reading the blog and that she thought the one about Jack's comment "Are you happy at me?" was memorable. That was nice.

- We had our doubts about Jack sleeping in Scott's room with Mikey and Abbey. On previous trips he'd slept in my room with me. Not to worry. Jack got out of his bed after we put him to bed once in four nights, didn't get up before 6 a.m. any of them, and only got up during the night once (that I know of). I was sleeping on the air mattress downstairs, when I was awakened from a sound sleep by a wailing noise that I basically narrowed down to either Jack or Kate, and since Kate was all the way back in Robin's room and there's no way I could have heard her, I figured it was Jack. I went to the stairs. There was Jack at the top, perhaps having checked my room for me and woken up others, I don't know. Tears streaming down his face, standing there in his little shorty pajamas, he gazed down at me. "I'm COOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLDDDDD," he wailed miserably. It did really cool off at night. I came upstairs, dressed him in the dark in long pants and a long-sleeve shirt (Abbey and Mikey had slept through the whole thing, impressive), and put him back to bed.

There's more, but it's late and I'm beat. Anyway, it was fun.

The Walrus

I was putting Jack to bed tonight, when we realized he'd left his two current favorite toys -- the Police Duck, a bath toy duck wearing a police hat, shirt, and badge (and carrying a truncheon!); and the Walrus, a second-hand bath toy from Aunt Cathy, whose judgment I question in terms of allowing him to take home used bath toys as gifts, but whatever -- downstairs. His favorite toys typically change every week or so. So, I headed downstairs to get them.

I found Police Duck, but couldn't find the Walrus. (Koo-koo-ca-choo!) So I found a serviceable replacement (or so I thought -- yeah, right) in the Martian and headed upstairs. I brought them to Jack, gave them to him, and said I couldn't find the Walrus; I promised I'd find him later and put him in his bed after he was asleep.

Jack stood there looking at me, his face not quite able to accept what I was saying. He wasn't exactly about to cry, but he was clearly not willing to take on the idea that he'd be going to bed without his Walrus.

Jack: "Well....well....Can I go look for him? Let me look for him. Because I'm a good finder. I'm good at finding things."

I said, well no, Jack (we had just put Kate down and she was sleeping, finally, and I didn't want Jack to clomp by her room -- we tell him to be quiet so he tries to go on tippy toes with the result being that he basically stomps his feet heavily with each step), but really, I'll get him for you later. And now he was quite upset, eyes all big and sad, and he said, "But....but...."

So I said, well Jack, do you know where he is? Where were you last playing with him?

Jack: "Well, I had him on the couch. And... and then I put him in the Batmobile." (The Batmobile is a medium-sized toy with a roof that opens up, and you can put characters in there and close the roof on them -- and of course, you can't see them.) I said, well Jack, why didn't you tell me? And he kind of shrugged.

So I got the Walrus for him.

Swimming with Jack

Went to the YMCA pool with Jack today. This is an actual Olympic pool in a facility the size of an aircraft hangar -- very impressive. He goes there each week with his daycare on Tuesdays for a half-hour swim class. I'd never been.

It was a first for me: going somewhere and doing something where Jack knew exactly what to do and how to do it, and I was just stumbling along.

He and I took swimming lessons at the YMCA's old pool (the Olympic one is brand-new) when he was about 2 years old. Then, he pretty much clung to me most of the time, was more than ready to get out at the end of the lesson (if not sooner), and really didn't seem to look forward to going. We went again a few months ago, after he'd just started classes at daycare; he was better, but still pretty much stayed with his arms hugged around my neck.

Today was a different story. He WANTED to go, looked forward to it, didn't try to back out of it. We got to the pool, walked to the side, shed our shirts and shoes, no hesitation on his part.

I indicated the large basket of various flotation devices near the pool. So Jack, I said, which one do you use? Jack walked right over. "Oh!" he said. "This one. You put it on like this," he explained helpfully.

I strapped it around his waist and we walked to the edge. It was 5 feet deep. I said, now, how do you get in? Do you jump? And he said, "No, I just slide. Get in, Daddy." So I got in and stood there, and he sat down on his butt and slid off the side of the pool into the water. He laughed (it was cold), and I took his hands. And then he started kicking, the belt holding him up, and I walked backwards, then swam backwards, while he was kind of on his stomach, kicking.

Then he wanted the fish. The fish? I said. I got out while he was at the edge and picked up different things. Is this it? Is this? "No, Daddy," he said patiently. Got out, grabbed the kick board. "This."

Later, he used these floaty things that looked like barbells, one under each arm. With those under his arms and the belt on his waist, he basically bobbed in the water like a cork. I tried to get him to lie down in swimming position, but he preferred to remain upright. And kick. The result was him sort of running through the water, upright, like he was riding a bike or something. Treading water almost. He crossed the entire pool like this. And again, it was a big pool (the short way, but still, a long way). He laughed a lot. Totally comfortable in the water. So, yay Jack's daycare.

Two additional notes:

- He had a little cut on his foot from a couple of days ago that he's been favoring. So he was walking along next to me at the pool with one foot kind of off the ground, sort of hobbling or something. We drew stares. I tried to act like it was no big deal. "Why is that man making his son walk by himself?"

- Afterward we went to the bathroom to take showers. Jack said, "I have to pee!" So, we went into the bathroom. No urinals his level. We went into a stall; there was somebody in the one next to us. As Jack's standing there, he said, "There's somebody over there!" I know, Jack. "Why is he just SITTING THERE?" Jack, please, I'm sure he's just going to the bathroom too. Please focus on-- "But why is he just SITTING THERE?" We got out of there in a hurry. Clearly, the conversation about not talking TO strangers is not the only important one to have with a three-year-old.

Anyway, pretty good time at the pool.

Happy Kate

Some of this stuff I've probably mentioned before, but I spent a lot of time with Kate this week, so I'm noticing it all over again.

The way she crawls - Happy smile on her face, she POUNDS each hand down on the floor, accompanying it with a soundtrack: "Huh...Huh...Huh...HUH!" Big smile. "Huh...Huh...Huh...HUH!" Again and again as she crosses the floor, smiling all the way.

The way she laughs - It just bubbles up out of her, like a pitcher of water overflowing. And it continues to bubble, exploding every once in a while into a bigger laugh, then back to a happy gurgle. And I think she even laughs at her laughing - she certainly laughs at Jack laughing, or at us laughing back at her. It's a riot.

The way she dances - She sits on her butt with her knees splayed out, and rocks and bounces up and down. Her fingers go to her mouth, or she claps, and raises her elbows up in the air. Baby chicken dance? It's like a combination dance and strut without walking, with her elbows and butt bouncing up and down. And oh yeah - she laughs, too.

The crawling game - She crawls across the room ("Huh....Huh...Huh...HUH!"), then pauses, looks back over her shoulder, stops. Makes sure you're paying attention and might follow her. Laughs. Starts crawling again. Pauses. Looks back over her shoulder. Stops. Laughs. Get Jack involved in the game, either as the follower or the one being chased, and it could go on forever for all she cares. Me too, I think.

Jack and Kate's Vermont

We went to Vermont last weekend. Here's how Jack and Kate probably saw it.

THE DRIVE UP:

Kate: Hmm. We're getting in the car again. Supermarket? Comic store? OOH, maybe the swings at the playground. Hope it's a short trip, anyway.
Jack: I get out of school early! We're going to Nana and Baba's! I LOVE their toys! I can't wait to play with the castle and the village and the car and the plane ....
Kate: We're going a long way. This is NOT a quick trip to the supermarket.
Jack: .... and the garage and the record player and ...
Kate: I've got to get out of this seat. Plus I can't see where we're going! The back seat is pretty dull. Facing the wrong way is very frustrating.
Jack: ... the books and the stuffed toys and the bear slippers....
Kate: WAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Jack: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Kate: .....wahhhh..........WAHHHHHHH.......wahhhhhhhhhhhhh........
Jack and Kate: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Jack: Why do Nana and Baba live so far away?
Jack: But why is it so far?
Jack: Is it closer? Is that the distance? Why is that the distance? What are THOSE?
Kate: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Jack: Baby Kate, Baby Kate, Baby Kate.......
Kate: sighhhhhh...wahhhhhh....Please let it end.

VERMONT: (Thursday evening)

Jack: Nana! Baba! Molly! Can I get the toys?
Kate: Who. are. these people. And what is that THING sniffing at me? I'm very afraid.

(Middle of night)

Kate: Wahhhhhh!
Jack: I have to pee.
Jack: Daddy, can I take a bath with the big shark tomorrow?
Jack: Is it morning yet?

(Friday)

Kate: OK, these people are all right. The tall one looks a little bit like me, only a little more weathered and stuff. He's definitely got my ears. I'm fascinated by the other one. I think I like her holding me. She's a Mom too.
Jack: Food! Give Molly treats! Watch Aristocats! Run around the yard! Read that funny Mouse Tales book! How did the mouse buy new feet?!!! Play with toys! Car ride going to a fair! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. Lollipop at fair! Hot! Those "ponies" look a lot like big horses. Not sure I want to get on that thing. Long line for ride, too. Let's go home. Play with toys! Hotdog! French fries! Ice cream! Play outside! Bath with big shark! Mouse Tales book! Tired now.......zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

(Saturday)

Jack: Watch Aristocats! Play with Mommy! Go to Quechee with Nana and Baba and Daddy! Ride the train! Carousel! Ice cream! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. More playing in the yard! Playing with Mommy! Games! Toys! Mouse Tales book! How did the mouse take off his feet????? Applesauce! Toys! Bath with big shark! Tired nZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzz.
Kate: I didn't have to ride in the car ALL DAY!

(Sunday)

Kate: That dog's kind of interesting. Very soft. Kind of tired today.
Jack: Pancakes....bacon....blueberries....pancakes...Aristocats.......Tired now.

THE DRIVE HOME:

Jack: Bye Nana and Baba. Car ride. Hmm, I'm sleepZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
Kate: Bye strange people and dog. Car ride again? WahhZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Jack, reminiscing

Jack's only 3 and a half, but he reminisces a lot.

"Remember when we went to the beach and we splashed in the water?" Yes, Jack, that was yesterday.

"Remember when we went and got chicken nuggets and french fries?" Yup, that was yesterday too.

"Remember when you told me the story about the monsters and the robots?" Last night? Or one of the last 10 nights, when that was also the story I told you?

(Side note: Jack likes made-up stories, which is really stretching the limits of my imagination these days. It started with him wanting stories based on books we read. So, we read "Escape of Marvin the Ape," in which Marvin the Ape escapes from the zoo (great book), and Jack wanted a story about that. And each time, the story got bigger, with (for example) a new activity and a new friend for Marvin. I'd go with, for example, Barry the Bear. And Jack took the idea and ran with it, each ensuing night. So, as I'd start to tell the story, Jack would say, "I thought of another friend for Marvin....Snakey the snake." Or, "Giraffy the giraffe." And so on. Until on the 10th night or so, it was "One day, Marvin the ape and his friends, Barry the bear, Giraffy the giraffe, Snakey the snake, Lion the lion, Fishy the fish....(etc.) decided to have a picnic."

I'm not sure how the superheroes stories started. Might have been after I gave him the Iron Man toys as a gift. Suddenly he wanted superheroes to go around fighting monsters. And then monsters and robots. And then monsters and robots and Power Rangers -- I have no idea where that came from, we don't watch them, somebody at school must have had a lunch box or T-shirt or somesuch. Anyway, the stories are the best I can come up with and they all involve the monsters or robots or Power Rangers doing something only mildly bad like stealing people's ice cream or something, and the heroes using their ray beams or webs or whatever on the monsters until they recognize the error of their ways and become good.)

"Remember when I wore Kate's hat?" Yes, it was too small for you and you stretched it out so she'll never be able to wear it again.

"Remember when you tickled me and made me laugh so much? That was so funny." Yes it was. "Let's do that again." OK, Jack.

Musical Kate

I don't know if all little kids and babies like music, but it appears we're 2 for 2. Kate, like Jack, can't get enough of that foot-stompin' musical beat.

Jack used to dance in his crib to musical Tigger from a very young age. (Picture at right.) Kate didn't do that, but she did start playing the little toy piano while just a few months old, and she now rocks back and forth on her haunches, or bounces up and down, to music. Jack plays this tune on one of his toys that he dances to, and I was watching him do this -- when all of a sudden Kate caught my eye, halfway across the room, bouncing up and down, head nodding to the music. She caught me looking at her and shot me a big grin, and went right on "dancing."

Yesterday she was standing at the play table, which also plays music when she hits certain buttons. At one point she was playing that music, AND she stepped on this little book the neighbors gave us that plays musical tunes. A veritable symphony (cacophony?) of music, and she looked at me, laughed, and rocked back and forth on her heels.

Sometimes she claps. Not always to music; sometimes just because she's happy, although the music is part of that. I missed it, but Emily told me she was clapping happily yesterday and accidentally caught her nose in a clap. Hee.

Today I took Kate to the gym (YMCA) for the first time. They have a babysitting service there for while you work out, with all kinds of toys. Kate, um, didn't do so well with it. I checked on her (without being seen) every five minutes. First time: crying. Second time: not crying. Third time: crying harder. Fourth time: not crying as I was first approaching; then, crying. I got there and I honestly worried she'd had an allergic reaction to something, her little eyelids and nose were so red. So yeah, the babysitting with strangers is something we've got some minor problems with.

The Beach

We've made two trips to the beach now this summer. A few things can be said.

1. Jack's an impatient backseat driver. We're sitting in a line of traffic, and Jack says, "Let's just turn around." We're getting close to the beach, and Jack says, "Is THIS the beach?" "Is THIS the beach?" Every mile or so. At one point we were close; you could see a little private beach beyond a stone wall. Jack asked again, and I said, "Well, you could just get out here, and we'll meet you." Jack's also very literal. "What?" he said. "I can't get out HERE. I can't just jump over that WALL." It's really pretty funny.

2. I really envy those commercials for I believe Corona that show a couple walking to a spot in the sand and sitting down, carrying nothing but a bucket of beer. I believe the commercial contrasts that couple with a family that appears to be us. They stumble up to a spot with beach chairs, an umbrella under their arms, towels, toys, a cooler of snacks, suntan lotion, etc. And of course, two kids. We need to invest in one of these things that looks like a laundry hamper for toys and stuff, that you just roll onto the beach with you. That would be nice.

3. Jack has kind of a love-hate relationship with the ocean. I think he likes the beach, and had a blast splashing around in the waves last time, and then when we went yesterday he didn't want to go in the water -- didn't even want to take off his beach sandals. I think the only reason he agreed to go at all was me promising he could bury me in the sand. That was kind of funny, incidentally -- he'd cover part of me with sand, decide he needed water, and ask me to go get him some. "But Jack, I"m buried in the sand!" "Oh," he'd say. "Here, I'll help you get out...." Anyway, Jack thus far appears to like the sand a lot more than the water. I guess some older kid pointed out a horseshoe crab in the water the first time, telling him it would eat him or something. We assured him that was not the case. Then Saturday we were standing near the edge of the water and saw TWO of them, connected in some fashion, perhaps intimately. I'm not familiar enough with horseshoe crab anatomy, nor do I want to be, to be certain. Perhaps I'll raise the question at the Aquarium next time we're there. "Excuse me -- where are....?"

4. Jack did discover one of the new joys of the beach Saturday: beach food. I've never seen him eat so many chicken nuggets and french fries at a sitting.

5. Kate appears to have gotten over her nervousness on unusual surfaces. On Friday she crawled around on grass like it was no big deal, and then Saturday, she scuttled across the beach like a fiddler crab. And put a rock in her mouth, of course, but we got it out. Her hat keeps falling off (too big) and we fret about sunburn, not to mention her efforts to crawl through the sand castle I built with Jack, and her obvious desire to also eat french fries and chicken nuggets, but regardless, she had fun. We held her with her toes in the water, to which she seemed to react with curiosity more than anything else.

6. The art of sand castle building is really hurt by a three-year-old who cares more about pouring water over everything than actually building a castle. I think I really had something going yesterday, but then The Flood came and things looked a lot like Venice after a heavy rain. Maybe next time.

7. Both kids will fall asleep on the way home from the beach. Both adults will spend the afternoon wishing they had slept better the previous night. The beach takes a lot out of you.

Brown Bear

I read different books to Jack each night, but usually certain old favorites creep back in. Like "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see?"

To keep my own interest, I tend to do different voices for the animals. The duck sounds like a duck, the dog rowfs like a dog, the frog gurgles like a frog, etc. Jack loves it.

Yesterday was a new one though, as after I'd finished reading it, HE decided to read it to me. He can't really read per se; he's just memorized it. So, he took the book and started in. With voices. Jack's voices were basically slow, low and deep, so "Brown bear, brown bear" became "brrowwnnbear, brrowwnnbear." And then his next voice for the duck was the same voice, but a little bit lower, and a little bit slowwwerrr, and a little bit deeeepppper. By the time he got to the cat his voice was almost inaudible. "Prpl cat, prpl cat, whaDyuSee...." Pretty funny.

Similarly amusing is that his memory of which animals comes next isn't perfect, so he had to fliip ahead. For example:

"Yllw duck, yllw duck, whuh Dyuh see? I see - Um (This is his normal voice, as he drops out of character and flips to the next page, checks the animal, then turns back, and drops his voice back into character) - I see a blue horse looking at me."

He did this for pretty much the entire book. He even kind of rasped out the teacher's voice, which I do in falsetto with a Southern accent for no apparent reason. Good stuff.

Old Books

Kate and I went to the library, in part because I wanted us to get out of the house and do something, and in part because I wanted to look for this book I'd read about in Entertainment Weekly. (All copies were out, naturally.) We ended up in the kids section, naturally, a pretty cool setup on the third floor with books that a small child can reach and stuffed toys for even smaller kids. Kate crawled around with surprising speed. We even tried doing a puzzle, which is to say, I tried to do the puzzle while she tried to put pieces in her mouth.

Anyway, I ended up taking two books out for Jack, one a recent one about How Do Dinosaurs Play with Their Friends (we both like that series of books), and one that caught my eye among the "Classic" kids books: "Herbert the Lion." That's one I immediately remembered from my own childhood, and I snapped it up without even looking at it. Jack and I would read it tonight.

To his credit, Jack pretty much likes any new books. (These days he also likes stories, so each night as I'm putting him to bed I'm making up stories, often on topics involving things like superheroes fighting with monsters, which he can't get enough of.) And even an old book like "Herbert the Lion" is new to him.

I'm reading it and I happen to check the publishing date. 1931! That's older than either of my parents. And I'm reading it thinking, did my parents read this book to me because THEY had had it read to them when they were kids? Did my grandparents read this book to my parents that I'm now reading to my son? And 35 years from now will JACK be in some huge futuristic library where he finds a tiny digital microchip which has a picture of a Lion on it and minuscule text that reads "Herbert the Lion," and he too will pick it up to read to his child? Maybe.

The third book we read tonight was "The Story of Ferdinand," another book I remembered from my childhood. That was written in 1936.

One aside: it's interesting the way different books could be seen as representatives of their times. In Herbert the Lion, Sally's parents move to the country so Sally can stay with her lion. In Ferdinand, it's OK if the bull wants to just sit quietly and smell the flowers.

In contrast, a while back my Mom gave us some other books we'd had as children. These were from the 1950s. In "Scuffy the Tugboat," a cute little tugboat ventures out into the big river and shipyard, finding it exciting at first but then dangerous and scary. At the end, he goes back to his safe, secure bathtub. In another (whose name I've forgotten), a little train keeps wanting to jump off the tracks and go exploring and adventuring. At the end, everyone else in the trainyard gets together to teach him how dangerous it is and to always stay on the tracks. Jack of course thought it was great; Emily and I were both troubled by its heavy-handed message of obedience and conformity. I won't claim to be a 20th-century historian or anything, but based on this admittedly small sample, I've got to say I like children's books of the 30s more than those of the 50s.

Jack likes all of them, however, which is I guess the most important thing.

Alone with Jack and Kate, Day 1

This was my first-ever full day alone with both Jack and Kate. Emily went back to work a week ago, but her Dad was off last Friday morning (which is the day Jack isn't in daycare). Today it was all me. It's late and I'm beat, but I'm still going to -- quickly -- go hour by hour, more or less.

8:00 a.m. Emily leaves for work. Jack wants to watch TV, which he does while I give Kate breakfast. She's not overly into eating and seems cranky. I end up putting her down for a nap around 8:30, hopeful I'll get 90 minutes out of it. Sadly, while I'm putting her down, Jack has a potty accident. On the couch. It's extremely rare, enough so that we think it's an attention thing. He seems to have them when one of us is upstairs with Kate. I throw the slipcover and Jack's clothes in the wash.

9:30 a.m. Kate's awake. Not good. Ideally she gets about a 90-minute to two-hour nap in the mornings, I give her her first bottle at 11 a.m., and we're off to a decent day. Her being awake this early -- especially considering she woke up at 6 anyway -- will probably be bad later.

10:00 a.m. I'm encouraging her and Jack to play...basically stalling giving her that first bottle. At 10:30 though, it's clear I can't stall any longer -- she's not happy. I give her her bottle while Jack and I watch....I don't even remember now. Might have just been baseball highlights.

11 a.m. We pile into the car for Jack's haircut. Basically getting out of the house for an activity is essential. I push it by going to the post office to return a package, the bank to deposit a check, then haircut, then -- since we're out of the essentials, meaning bread for Jack's lunch and half and half for my coffee -- the supermarket. Jack wants to ride in the cart, so I stumble into the supermarket with half-asleep Kate's car seat on my arm pushing Jack in the shopping cart. I feel like a bad cliche of a Mr. Mom movie. I'm sure people are staring, especially as I stumble around with the both of them getting groceries. Yes, I'm one of those people who thinks they're going in for two things and end up with my arms full of 10 or so.

12:30 p.m. We go through the Wendy's drive-through. Going to the supermarket to get food for lunch makes it too late to consider going home to make lunch. Plus, I don't want a jelly sandwich.

1: 00 p.m. Jack eats his nuggets and fries. Kate eats her avocado and yogurt. I eat my chicken sandwich. I feel a sense of accomplishment.

2:00 p.m. We've had lunch and played a bit. Kate's getting cranky. I didn't bother trying to put Jack down for a nap. At some point he said he was going upstairs for a nap, went upstairs, then came down 2 minutes later. "I did have a nap!" he insists. OK, Jack.

2:30 p.m. I give Kate her second bottle and eventually get her down for a nap. Jack is watching A Charlie Brown Christmas on VHS. He's not exactly a slave to the seasons. Later he'll watch the Halloween special on DVD.

3:30 p.m. Kate's awake, as I'm reading stories to Jack. She's wailing and I tell him I have to go upstairs. "One more story!" he insists, with the hint of a whine that says, no, I haven't napped. I say, Jack, what if I left YOU upstairs wailing like the way Kate is wailing? He is unmoved, but I go anyway. Get Kate, change her, bring her downstairs. Jack wants to go outside and is at the door with his shoes on the wrong feet. You'd think he'd only do that 50 percent of the time, but it's much closer to three quarters.

4:00 p.m. We sit in the back yard. Kate doesn't know what to make of grass, which is to say she doesn't like it. I hold her a lot of the time, then bring out a blanket for her to sit on so I can toss a ball around with Jack. We do. She crawls to the edges of the blanket.

4:15 p.m. Jack wants a snack. We go in. He wants to come back out. I talk him out of it in favor of playing with the beach ball inside. I think Kate has had it with the grass.

4:45 p.m. I start dinner. Jack helps me open a can, which is a big thrill for him.

5:15 p.m. Mommy home. Day not so bad.

Tired Jack

We're kind of in an interesting place with Jack these days. At school, he naps for anywhere from 90 minutes to two hours, with the result being that putting him to bed is a hassle -- he's in and out of his room for up to an hour after we actually put him to bed. On weekends, he doesn't nap, which makes the last few hours before bed time a whirlwind of Jack being tired possibilities.

1. Meltdowns. So tired he gets upset at just about anything. "I WANTED TO CARRY MY MILK OVER TO THE TABLE!!!!!!" Motorcycle outside, which Emily refers to with annoyance. Jack, his face crumbling: "I DON'T LIKE MO............TOR.................CY....CLES....WAAAAHHHHHHH." (This was tonight, and it was quite spectacular. Totally out of nowhere, beyond, you know, he was really exhausted.) With these we just kind of deal with as calmly and abruptly as possible. "OK, let's go to bed!" He's under my arm and up the stairs in minutes. Pretty much anything can be forgiven when he's like this; he's not in control of himself.

2. Half asleep. These ones are fun. A couple of weeks back he was literally too tired to chew his food at the dinner table. He was sitting there in his chair, shoulders slumped, eyes half-closed, gazing at the windows. Food made it into his mouth, sometimes, but chewing looked like an effort. Sometimes I'd think it was him being difficult, but in this case he was just half-asleep.

3. Meltdowns AND half asleep. Friday we were outside and I was putting dinner on the grill, and our neighbor said hi, and he kind of clammed up, then threw his hat in her general direction. Shy and rude, a winning combination. I said something apologetic, but then after she'd gone spoke sharply to Jack. He gave some kind of reply that annoyed me (it was my first day alone with Jack and Kate, and it had been a day), so I said, "Inside." We went inside and his meltdown began, then he suddenly said, through anger and tears, "I'm going upstairs for my nap!" It was 5 in the evening. He went upstairs. It was quiet. I went up two minutes later, and there he was, in bed fully dressed, sound asleep.

4. Goofy. This is the fun one. It's sort of like he's been up all night and is punchy, which is kind of how I am when I'm really behind on sleep -- maybe most people are like this. A lot of people were in college, although granted some of them might have not been entirely sober. Anyhoo, at dinner tonight we talked about how tomorrow he was going to school and Mommy was going to work and Daddy was staying home with Kate, and somehow it got switched around that Jack would go to work and Daddy would go to school (which sounded OK - nap, afternoon snack, playing in the tumble room), and that was good for some laughs, and then Jack said, indicating his cup of milk, "Or maybe my MILK will go to school. And Miss Ruthie would tell it what to do." And this was all very amusing. Another recent incident was Jack in his bathtub, and he'd recently had some shall we say stomach issues, and there was noise from behind him, and Emily thought the worst as Jack reached behind him.....and pulled out his rubber ducky, which he'd sat on. A smile spreads over Jack's face. "It was my DUCK!" he said solemnly. He knew he'd been funny.

Alone with Kate, Day 1

Emily's starting a temp job that may become permanent. Today was her first day.

8:30 a.m. We say goodbye to Emily at the door. Kate is smiling and happy, no idea her world is changing. Emily is the opposite.

8:35 a.m. I put Kate down in the living room. Par-Tay! She immediately crawls into the midst of Jack's toys. Nothing appears dangerous. When she crawls, she kind of breathes heavily and snuffles with the effort, a little like a bulldog. She goes to his store and starts pulling out vegetables and sampling all of them by putting them in her mouth for a second, then moving on to the next one. I sit nearby. We do this for the next 15-20 minutes.

9:00 a.m. At the coffee table, she pulls books off the underneath shelf. She can do this for an indefinite amount of time.

9:15 a.m. Plays with musical book that plays tunes like "Patty Cake, Patty Cake," and "the Big Bad Wolf." Insipid, but she likes it and is proud of herself for getting the music to play. She turns and smiles. Claps a little.

9:30 a.m. Starting to get a little cranky. She's been up for over two hours. Basically her getting cranky is making loud noises a little more frequently. Getting more easily frustrated with her toys and stuff. Picking something up and putting it down heavily.

9:45 a.m. I put her down for a nap. Doesn't take. Five minutes later I walk in, and she's sitting up, running her little plastic fish on the bars of the crib. Just like a prisoner with a tin can. Funny.

9:55 a.m. Take two. She goes to sleep within minutes. I clean up my desk. Gamble that she's tired enough that I can shower without waking her up. Win that bet. Clean up breakfast dishes. Empty trash.

11:30 a.m. Kate's awake! I prep a bottle and go up to get her. She's crying, then switches it off in an instant. Crawls across her crib to me. I change her diaper and we head downstairs.

11:45 a.m. Kate takes her bottle well, but she's basically doing calisthenics in my lap. She doesn't just lie there, she sits up, rolls over, twists around, continuing to drink. Every once in a while she stops and bats the tip of the bottle, hooks her finger on my lip. Talks: "Baa Baa Baa. Baa. Baaaaaaaaaa. Baa Baa Baa. BAA."

12 noon. I let her crawl around. She does.

12:30 p.m. I give her lunch: yogurt and some blueberries. I think she's doing well with the blueberries until after I get her out of the seat and find most of them in the seat and on the floor. She does eat a lot of yogurt and some small pieces of canteloupe, though.

1:00 p.m. I bring her over to Aunt Cathy's. I have a fantasy draft for a magazine coming up and can't trust her to be OK while I'm doing it.

3:00 p.m. Cathy brings her back. Kate did OK, but she looks a little red-eyed; apparently she slept for about 20 minutes -- not enough not to be tired, but enough so that she might not nap this afternoon. A concern.

3:15 p.m. Bottle for Kate. More calisthenics. I make the final pick in my draft while giving her her bottle. Bet I'm the only guy in the league multi-tasking that way. Then again, it's a fantasy draft in the middle of the afternoon on Tuesday. Maybe everyone has a baby on their laps.

3:30 p.m. Not napping.

3:45 p.m. Take two. Still not napping. Cries indignant now. It's like she's saying to me, It's not happening. Give up.

4:00 p.m. I give up.

4:30 p.m. Kate has spent the past half hour crawling around, mostly happy, also clearly tired. I decide to go get Jack a little early, under the idea that she might sleep in the car. (Yuh.) Instead she pretty much wails in the car, wails when I put her down in Jack's room at daycare to get his lunch box, wails when I carry her back to the car (as does Jack, I might add, because it's raining and I ask him to stay just inside the door while I put Kate in the car, but he evidently doesn't understand and thinks I'm ditching him). I go back to get him and talk him down, and we're off.

4:45 p.m. Kate's still wailing in the car. I ask Jack to sing to her. He does. "Baby Cake, Baby Cake. Baby Cake....." She stops wailing.

5:00 p.m. Jack plays with Kate. Very nicely. She smiles and looks at him, in awe. Then he does something goofy with one of his toys, and she laughs. He does it again and she laughs harder. He does it 5, 10, 15 times, and she's literally gasping for breath -- she's in hysterics. Probably the fact that she's only slept 20 minutes since the morning is part of it, like in college when you'd been up all night and things seem even funnier the next morning. Anyway, he keeps on making her laugh. And Daddy can relax.

5:15 p.m. Mommy gets home. Kids happy. Daddy relaxes even more.

They Call Her Katie (sung to the tune of "Flipper")

Five fun things about Kate.

1. She can clap. Sometimes she'll spend several minutes practicing it. Sometimes she'll do something she's proud of, like crawl across the room or play something on the little piano, and she'll stop, sit up on her knees, and clap happily. As if she's applauding herself for what she's just done. Yes, I did that! Yay, me!

2. When she's hungry, she throws her mouth open wide for food. When she's not hungry, she kind of half opens her mouth and looks at me with some mild curiosity, like I'm a bug or something. I put the food to her lips and get some in, and she kind of absently smacks her lips at it. Hmm. This is OK. I guess.

3. Almost since before she could sit up, she kind of sits like a hurdler, or a cheerleader -- like she's doing a split. One leg is bent at the knee, the other is stretched out behind her. She balances like that, and I've never seen her fall from that position. It's pretty impressive.

4. She frequently disregards the toys we give her -- you know, the baby toys -- in favor of the toys we want to keep from her, Jack's toys. So I give her a big old plastic ring, and two seconds later she's tossed it aside (literally, I might add) and is making a beeline for one of Jack's tiny metal cars. Usually the tow truck, with a big metal hook extending from the back. Excellent, Katie.

5a. She's crazy about Jack. When she sees him in the morning, from her crib when he and I hear her and go in, she claps without clapping, then big smiles, then crawls quickly over to the bars to look at him up close. He puts his hands on the bars outside, then does something silly to make her laugh. She smiles from ear to ear. If he's in the living room and she's on the carpet, she crawls over to be near him. Wherever he is, and however many times he gets up and runs across the room. She seems to sigh internally, shrug, then get into crawling pose and determinedly crawl after him.

5b. Tonight I was reading them a story, and Jack stood up for some reason. She gazed up at him, eyes bright, mouth open, on the verge of laughing. It was exactly as if she was thinking, What wonderful thing is he going to do next?

Kate in Real Time

I think the best way to blog about Kate is to just write about her as she does things. So that's what I'm doing right now.

I put Kate down on the living room rug. She makes a beeline for Jack's Spider-man puzzle, that he and I just completed. She's been doing it every chance she gets the past couple of days. I don't know why.

She heads for his easel and markers. Another fascinating thing, another thing we want her away from. I pick her up and put her in the other half of the living room.

She shoots me a big smile and heads for the TiVo box. Starts hitting buttons channels change. She turns and laughs at me, then says "Da. Da."

Mommy calls from upstairs, where she's giving Jack a bath. "Did you call me?" "Nope," I say.

Kate hears Mommy's voice and abandons the TiVo and starts crawling, quickly, toward the stairs. We want to keep her out of that hallway, because there's a bathroom, and a heating grate, and it's a hard tile floor. She reaches the doorway and I say, "Kate, what are you doing?"

She looks at me. Laughs. Heads through the doorway.

I go pick her up and put her back on the rug. She crawls into the other half of the living room. Probably headed for the puzzle again, but stops when she sees the cool wooden car. She likes the car. Plays with it -- i.e., puts it in her mouth -- for a few minutes as I type on the laptop, which I'm carrying around with me.

Now she's on the move again. Headed for the kitchen. Making little gurgling, "heh-HEH" noises, which she does sometimes.

She's in the kitchen. Gotta go.

Daddy's Day

Emily came into the room after putting Jack to bed. Said,

"Jack was wondering where our clock with hands was. I said, I don't know. He said, Did it die? I said, er, no, Jack, only people and animals die. Jack said, Will Molly die? (Nana and Baba's dog.) Emily said, well, not for a long long long time. Jack said, Will you die?

Emily said, not for a long long long long long long long long long long time. Jack said, Will Daddy die? Emily said, not for a long long long long long long long long long time. Not quite as long, because you're older. (Emily's a riot.) Jack said, Daddy's old old old old old.

Then he said, I think I have the best Daddy in the whole world. Emily said, yes, I think you do. Jack said, he makes you laugh. Emily said, yes, he does. And I think one day you'll be just as funny as Daddy, and you'll make me laugh too. Jack smiled.

The Neighbors

Our neighbors have a son about Jack's age, so they play together every so often. They also have an enclosed yard, whereas ours connects with a yard belonging to bigger kids, who as I've mentioned in the past Jack is fascinated with and wants to play with, even though he really can't/shouldn't and it usually ends badly. In short, we usually play over in Max's yard.

Max's 3rd birthday gift was a little house structure, which is basically a child-size plastic house with a front porch, kitchen area, and windows he can peek out. ("And a doorbell!" Jack said to Grandma; apparently it made quite an impression on him after his first visit.) Jack likes it a lot; I think he could quite happily go over there and play in it for a while on a daily basis.

So today we were over there and Max's Dad, Mike, who's fairly tall, crawled into it to entice Max and Jack into playing with it rather than whatever it was they were doing, which appeared to be throwing small rocks into a hole in the dirt and laughing hysterically. Or something similar. Then they moved on to throwing small rocks into a hole in a ladder leaning against the house. Next time Mike needs the ladder, it's going to rattle. Anyway, Jack came over -- Max continued to throw rocks, apparently because playing with Mike and the house didn't have the same novelty for him as it did for Jack -- and walked into the house like he owned the place. Mike crawled out, because it was pretty crowded.

"So Jackie (he calls him Jackie), what are you doing?" Jack: "I'm going to make dinner." "What are you going to make?" Jack: "Potatoes with apple sauce, with some sugar on the side." "Okay......." Jack busied himself in the tiny kitchen. Then: Mike rang the doorbell. Jack ignored it. Mike: "I'm at the door." Jack: "Oh, come in!" Mike: "No, you're supposed to say, who is it?" Jack: "Oh. Who is it?" Mike: "My car broke down, may I use your phone?" Jack: "Okay, come in!" Mike (mock exasperated): "No, you can't just let me in! I could be anybody." Jack: "Oh." Mike: "Can I come in and use your phone?" Jack: "Okay!" Mike: "(sigh)"

(I should mention that while Jack was playing with Max, Max's Mommy, Lisa, was crawling around in the grass shooting pictures of Kate with her camera. I think she just likes having new subjects to take pictures of, or she likes taking pictures, but regardless, she's taken some absolutely outstanding pictures of both Kate and Jack, and one day we're going to schedule her to take Kate's 6 month old picture. Er, Kate will be 8 months old in less than two weeks.)

Later that night, Emily and Jack were looking at houses online. Emily does that sometimes. At one point Jack got really sad. and he said in his quiet, sad voice: "We're not going to move away from Max, are we?"

Emily (long pause): "Er...well, maybe one day, but not for a long time."

And really, who knows.

Oscar

A year ago my sister visited for the Academy Awards, also known, of course, as The Oscars. She had a bunch of presents/prizes sent in advance of her visit from Amazon, including one for Jack: A stuffed Oscar the Grouch, looming out of his trashcan. Funny.

Jack was kind of ambivalent at first, but as he's been with most toys, it gradually has grown on him. Or he suddenly rediscovered it. In any case, in the last week or so, Oscar has become his favorite toy. He's been carrying him around, wrapping him in a blanket every now and then (so Oscar can sleep, obviously). Tonight, when I was putting him to bed, he asked for Oscar for the first time.

So I went downstairs to get Oscar, and came back with him. I had him peek around the door at Jack, because you know, I do silly stuff like that. Jack smiled. I gave him Oscar, kissed them both good night, and left the room.

Jack only came out of his room once this evening; it was a good night. He doesn't like the "you can't come into bed with Mommy and Daddy in the morning if you don't stay in your bed at night" rule, so he's been trying. But that doesn't mean he goes right to sleep.

After waiting in our room a few minutes to make sure he was staying in his bed, I headed downstairs. I paused outside our room, though, because I heard him through his door. Talking to Oscar.

"Do you want fish, or guinea pigs?" This is a game he's been playing lately, remembering the pet store. He then presents you with your invisible choice. "Okay, fish. Here you go."

Then: "Do you want coffee, Oscar?" Pause. "Okay, here."

Pause. "Sipppppppppppppppp. Ahhhh! Thank you."

I headed downstairs.