Jack at Dinner

Jack at dinner is occasionally trying; sometimes he doesn't want to eat, sometimes he doesn't want to sit still, sometimes he just messes around and is aggravating. And then sometimes, like tonight when Grammy was over, things are great, because he just wants to talk....

It started when Grammy was mentioning she'd seen a spider in her bathroom. I think she said it was a Daddy Longlegs, and that they were good, and I said, no, they're the scariest ones. And she explained how they eat other bugs or somesuch, and I said, well, they have the long, creepy-crawly legs. And then Jack chimed in:

"You know what's scary? An Ickthysaur." And we both kind of gaped. "An Ickthysaur?" I said. And he said, "YEAH! An Ickthysaur. They're sea monsters and they would bite you." And we said, "OK....." And he went on. "Yeah, the monster would HURT YOUR FEELINGS!" He raised his voice for dramatic effect.

"Once," he went on, "I had to fight the sea monster. Yeah! I hit him with my bat. And, and, I hit him with my bat and he couldn't bite me." (We had played tee ball outside just that afternoon.) "And then I put him in the laundry basket. And then I hit him again, and then I put him in the dryer, and when he came out he was clean, and he was a good monster."

"And," he continued, "The good monster was Jack."

I'm probably forgetting about half of his monologue about spiders, sea monsters, hurt feelings, bats, laundry baskets, dryers, and Ickthysaurs, but hopefully not much more than that.

So long, diapers

Well, not really: Kate's still wearing them, seeing as she's only 4 months old. And let me just say that I don't recall Jack ever being as happy to have his diapers changed as Kate. I put her down on the changing table and unbutton that sleeper and she's grinning from ear to ear. In fact, if she's crying, the one sure way I have to stop her is changing her diaper -- even if it doesn't need to be changed. She smiles and I play "This little piggy" on her toes and she laughs it up; for some reason, that particular rhyme is just hysterical to her. Or maybe she's ticklish, now that I think about it. Hmm. Anyhoo, I still get to change Kate's diapers, one of the main bonding moments we have, so that's always fun. And she can only pee on my hand, too.

But Jack, in contrast, is moving on. He started a new class a few weeks back and on the first day I asked his teacher about potty training. She said, put him in underwear. And I'm like, really? And then: Really?

But we did, and although the first day we had to change his clothes twice before we got him out of the house, twice more that evening, and collected him at school that afternoon to find him wearing clothes we'd never seen before and accompanied by a huge bag of pee-stained clothing, we stuck with it. Second day, Emily picked him up, and he was wearing the same clothes we'd sent him into school in that morning. (That, incidentally, was his 3rd birthday.) Third day, same thing. When he had to go, he told them. At home, when he had to go, he told us. A couple of times he actually went into the bathroom on his own -- all of a sudden I noticed his absence, walked into the bathroom, and there he was sitting there on his little potty seat, pants and underwear down around his ankles, holding a book. "Hi, Daddy!"

When we go out for long periods of time, he wears a pull-up. (Although we're starting to wonder if even that's necessary.) When he sleeps, he wears a diaper. (Definitely still necessary.) But otherwise, he wears underwear: school, home, everywhere. And he's been great. I'm sure there will be setbacks, and he occasionally makes a fuss about washing his hands. And it needs to be mentioned: cleaning that little potty seat is not the most enjoyable thing in the world; I get flashes of our old dog, Max, who didn't have full control of his functions in later years. But then again, changing multiple diapers each day had really reached a point of uncomfortableness, both because of their contents and the fact that Jack's so damn big these days, with legs splaying everywhere. It was time.

So now I change one diaper for Jack per day, and even that will end eventually. Kate's still got a couple more years in diapers, most likely, and then the Real Dads Change Diapers might have to be renamed (assuming we're done, which I guess is just an assumption at this point).

Real Dads Changed Diapers?

According to Kate

You may not know me very well yet. I've been mentioned in passing in this blog, but I'm comparatively new to the family, and -- although my diapers get changed a lot -- don't do a lot yet. Oh sure, I cry, and I laugh, and I gurgle, and I stick my tongue out. Make eyes at Daddy and so forth. But, I don't talk. I can't do anything for myself.

However, I see everything......

- I see Mommy almost all the time. I see her first thing in the morning. She swims into view over the edge of my crib and I can't help myself from smiling. She picks me up and we sit down in the glider and then I.....wait, where am I? I'm back in the crib. Must have fallen asleep again. How did THAT happen? "Wahhhhhhhh!" Hey, she's back. Good, good. I see her the last thing at night, too. She gives me my baths, feeds me, smiles at me, makes me laugh.

- I see Daddy more often these days. Early on, not so much. I think he has some kind of job, apparently, that involves him watching a lot of football. Mommy watches Project Runway, but I don't think that's her job. Anyway, he's not watching as much football these days, so I'm seeing him a lot more often. I'm warming up to him. For a while I'd basically cry when he held me, until he gave me back to Mommy. Now I'm content to smile at him, and he makes me laugh by singing This Little Piggy and making "Thhbbbtt" sounds with his tongue. After a while I get a little weary of his jokes, or maybe just weary in general. I start to get cranky, hoping he'll get the message, and sometimes this continues until Mommy shows up and takes me (Daddy and I both sigh with relief) and sometimes I find myself losing my train of thought and the next thing I know I'm waking up groggily and there's Daddy, gazing down at me or watching TV or something. Probably football.

- Jack is my big brother. I see him at the beginning of the day and at the end. Early on he wanted to hold me a lot. That was OK. He's kind of fascinating. He's little, like me, and he seems to be full of energy. Always running around here and there, singing songs, dancing (yesterday he referred to it as "singing with my feet," which Mommy and Daddy seemed to think was pretty clever), handing me stuffed animals and so forth. He sings to me when I'm crying in the car. It goes something like "Bay-bee Kate. Bay-bee Kate. Bay-bee Kate. Bay-bee Kate." I think those are the words.

Lately, things have been kind of hectic. First there was this holiday thing. As near as I can tell, it meant the house was full of people, my downstairs crib was moved into a corner to make room for a large tree, and they kept bustling me into a car or the stroller to take me somewhere else crowded with people, or get me away from the crowds of people.

Then it was Jack's birthday. More people. Lots of colored packages and noise and little girls running around. My cousins! Lots of different people holding me. I was pretty tired by the end of the day. Lots of days like this, for a while. Exhausting.

Now they're doing something with my big brother called "potty training." Every 10 minutes either Mommy or Daddy says, "Let us know if you need to use the potty." When Jack needs to use the potty, it's chaos; everyone runs around and I'm frequently deposited abruptly into my crib. I kick at the pink elephant or soft piano while there is much commotion in the bathroom "Yay! You used the potty! Great job, Jack! We're very proud of you, Jack!" They say this a lot.

I'm sleepy now. Mommy?

Sweet Boy

When Jack wakes up in the morning, he heads into our room. Sometimes it's too early (before 6) and I put him back in bed over his protests and leave. Sometimes it's reasonable (after 6), but I'm still beat, so I go into his room, close his door, and let him play or read while I sleep in his bed. (The point is to keep him from waking Mommy and Kate up.) Sometimes he'll get in bed too for a bit, although he never goes back to sleep. Me either, I just sort of lie there and try to sleep or wake up, one of the two.

Tonight I put Jack in his bed and kissed him good night. He was lying on one side of the mattress, head on one side of the pillow. As I turned to go, he said:

"Daddy, there's a place for you to sleep in the morning."