Emily and I have really been missing having a pet, so we decided to get Jack a fish. Neither of us had ever had one before, but we figured it's sort of like a pet, without all the walks. Jack seemed into the idea, so much that when Emily mentioned it Saturday morning, he got sort of quiet and nodded, eyes wide, a happy smile on his face.
Little did we know that in order to get a fish, you need to prep the tank/aquarium for 24 hours before. Try explaining that to a 3-year-old, especially when you go out to get a fish and come back with an empty tank in a box. So, he helped me fill the new tank Saturday afternoon, and after each container full of water, said, "NOW do we get the fish?" No, I explained, the tank isn't ready yet. "Why?" Well, it needs to wait a day, or it would be bad for the fish. We got the tank at 2 o'clock, so we'll get the fish at 2 o'clock tomorrow. Jack probably still didn't understand, but at least he stopped asking.
When he woke up Sunday morning, the first thing he said was "Do we get a fish today?" Yes, Jack, we get the fish today. "When?" Well, we'll go out after lunch, probably. When he saw Emily, he said, "At 2 o'clock we get my fish?" Emily said, well, probably sooner than that. He mentioned it once or twice during breakfast, and then we headed out to get the fish.
At the store, we gazed at the same wall of fish we'd seen the previous day. The guy was a little more helpful, steering us away from the goldfish ("They get big and they're dirty") and toward the fish that stay small and don't eat as much. I pulled the receipt out of my pocket just now in order to write down the type: red Danio and a couple of Danio-white cloud. (For all I know, Danio means "small fish.")
I should mention at this point that Jack was a lot more interested in the guinea pig at one side of the store than the fish. At no point did we present guinea pig as an option, so no worries there (at least not this week), but Jack made a point to bend down and talk to the little feller through its cage: "Hi! Hi!" In kind of a quiet, breathy voice. It was cute.
Anyway, we loaded our three fish into the bag, dropped another 30 bucks on, I dunno, some sort of cleaning thing ("You gotta have this...") and some food, and left the store. As we got into the car, we asked Jack what he was going to call them. I don't know if he'd been thinking about it for a while or not, but he didn't hesitate.
"Doh-doh, Tiki, and Tiki Two." OK then.
According to the guy, we were supposed to float the bag for 20 minutes, and then gradually add water to the bag from the tank. We put the bag in. Told Jack we had to wait 20 minutes. There were a few "Why?s" We went into the office, while Jack crawled up on the bed and I sat at the computer.
Jack: "Has it been 20 minute?"
No, Jack, it's been about 2 minutes.
Time passes.
"NOW has it been 20 minutes?"
No, Jack, it's only been 3 minutes.
"These many minutes?" He holds up three fingers, awkwardly.
That's right.
Gradually it became time, and we transitioned the fish. Inwardly, I worried about smothering them somehow. But, they made it. And we fed them, and wondered if we'd fed them enough. Or too much. Watched them swim around. Jack: "Do we give them dinner?" No, only once a day. "I think there are FOUR of them!" he said. No, only three. "No, see?" Er, I think that's a reflection. Hey Jack, which one's which? He pointed: "That's Doh-doh, that's Tiki.....and that's Tiki Two."
It's nighttime now, and I peeked into Jack's room. I was at least partly checking on Jack, who was asleep.
I couldn't really see our new pets. Do fish sleep? Are they afraid of the dark? Were they hungry?
I'd like to think they're doing OK.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Watching Jack
Sometimes he frustrates me more than I can even believe. Of late, there are two areas this manifests. The first is going to bed. I put him to bed, or Emily puts him to bed, and we say good night. We leave the room when he's half asleep. I go into our bedroom, or downstairs.
And 5 minutes later, there's Jack. Sometimes he says he has to pee (but doesn't really). Or he's thirsty. Or cold. Or warm. Or lonely. Or one of his stuffed animals said "no" to him, or woke him up, or some other equally unlikely scenario. Sometimes he says nothing at all, and when I stand up with my angry or exasperated face on, he turns on his heel and heads back to bed. For the next 5 minutes, anyway.
The second is with going to the bathroom, or rather his reluctance to go. At certain set times -- when he gets up in the morning, before his bath, before we go out on an errand -- he's perfectly obliging. Other times (most notably times when he obviously needs to go) he'd sooner eat all his potatoes (a side dish he inexplicably refuses to eat, I can't figure it out) than admit he has to pee. Forcing him is useless; he wails, cries, screams, insists he doesn't have to, even if we put him on his little potty seat. So, we get him up, and then some 10-15 minutes later he runs to the bathroom, doesn't quite make it, and says, "Well...I went a little bit in my underwear. And on my leg." And then we clean him up and get him into clean clothes and we say, "See, that's why you need to go as soon as you feel you might have to." And he nods solemnly and agrees and then it's the same story two days later.
Both frustrations occurred yesterday, which by the end of the day -- and the fifth or sixth time putting him back in his bed -- had me in kind of a surly mood. So much so that the evening ended in tears after I put him back in bed for the umpteenth time and didn't stick around to tuck him in. Plus I scattered his stuffed animals when I wrenched the covers down. Oh yeah, plus he walked into the door as I opened it -- strangely, though, that bothered him a lot less than the stuffed animals, although it bothered me considerably more. He finally slept, and I paced around angry and frustrated and guilty for the next hour or so.
So this morning I was sort of anxious to see him, to make sure things were OK with us and stuff. I was downstairs making coffee when I heard his footsteps upstairs, so I headed up. I was just at the top of the stairs, expecting to see him heading into our room, as usual, when I paused. He instead was headed for the bathroom. I stopped and watched, out of sight, as he ran into the bathroom and fumbled to pull down his little pajama bottoms and Pull-Ups. He did a little careful, tip-toeing dance, got them down, and sat down on his little potty seat. A big sigh (for such a little person) of relief from him, then I could hear him peeing. It's possible he started singing softly, some little tune; he does that sometimes.
I waited until he was done before going in to wish him a good morning.
And 5 minutes later, there's Jack. Sometimes he says he has to pee (but doesn't really). Or he's thirsty. Or cold. Or warm. Or lonely. Or one of his stuffed animals said "no" to him, or woke him up, or some other equally unlikely scenario. Sometimes he says nothing at all, and when I stand up with my angry or exasperated face on, he turns on his heel and heads back to bed. For the next 5 minutes, anyway.
The second is with going to the bathroom, or rather his reluctance to go. At certain set times -- when he gets up in the morning, before his bath, before we go out on an errand -- he's perfectly obliging. Other times (most notably times when he obviously needs to go) he'd sooner eat all his potatoes (a side dish he inexplicably refuses to eat, I can't figure it out) than admit he has to pee. Forcing him is useless; he wails, cries, screams, insists he doesn't have to, even if we put him on his little potty seat. So, we get him up, and then some 10-15 minutes later he runs to the bathroom, doesn't quite make it, and says, "Well...I went a little bit in my underwear. And on my leg." And then we clean him up and get him into clean clothes and we say, "See, that's why you need to go as soon as you feel you might have to." And he nods solemnly and agrees and then it's the same story two days later.
Both frustrations occurred yesterday, which by the end of the day -- and the fifth or sixth time putting him back in his bed -- had me in kind of a surly mood. So much so that the evening ended in tears after I put him back in bed for the umpteenth time and didn't stick around to tuck him in. Plus I scattered his stuffed animals when I wrenched the covers down. Oh yeah, plus he walked into the door as I opened it -- strangely, though, that bothered him a lot less than the stuffed animals, although it bothered me considerably more. He finally slept, and I paced around angry and frustrated and guilty for the next hour or so.
So this morning I was sort of anxious to see him, to make sure things were OK with us and stuff. I was downstairs making coffee when I heard his footsteps upstairs, so I headed up. I was just at the top of the stairs, expecting to see him heading into our room, as usual, when I paused. He instead was headed for the bathroom. I stopped and watched, out of sight, as he ran into the bathroom and fumbled to pull down his little pajama bottoms and Pull-Ups. He did a little careful, tip-toeing dance, got them down, and sat down on his little potty seat. A big sigh (for such a little person) of relief from him, then I could hear him peeing. It's possible he started singing softly, some little tune; he does that sometimes.
I waited until he was done before going in to wish him a good morning.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
The Artist
Jack's been drawing a lot, and it's fun to see. He fills page after page with circles and broad, slashing lines, in different colors of crayons. The other day he drew a sun, an honest to goodness circle with squiggly lines coming off it. I was pretty impressed, and still am.
But if I get too close to Jack when he's drawing, his interest in drawing is generally replaced by his interest in ME drawing. For a while it was us: "Draw Mommy....Now draw Daddy....now Jack. Where's Kate? Now Grandpa..." Then it was Backyardigans characters, over and over again. Then it was airplanes. Lately, although he hasn't actually watched "The Jungle Book" in several weeks, it's been Jungle Book characters: "Draw Magheera." (I know it's Bagheera, he calls him Magheera. I try and correct him, and he says, "Well. I call him Magheera.") "Draw Mowgli. Is that Mowgli? Mowgli doesn't have that much hair. Draw Sher-Kahn..." Recently it's also expanded into characters who only exist in the Jungle Book of his mind. "Draw Sher-Kahn's Daddy. Now his Mommy." Pause. "Now, over there. Draw Sher-Kahn's grandpa...."
The pictures typically end up a wild mishmash, with no blank space left. "Draw my puppy......draw my other puppy.....draw my Teddy bears.....Draw their babies....."
When they're done, he wants to hang them on his wall over his bed. There was an anxious moment a couple of days ago when we ran out of tape. He says, "Can we get tape and go put it on my wall?" So we get the tape and head upstairs, and he jumps onto his bed and picks a spot -- among the ever-dwindling free space -- and we tape the picture up there. It's quite a collection right now. They make him happy; I think I might have caught him saying good night to them one night.
On a totally unrelated note, Jack came running into Kate's room tonight when I was putting her in her sleeper. He was wearing his pajama pants and nothing else. He made some comment about how we have muscles, and while he did so he kind of flexed his arms and legs. I looked at him, laughed, and repeated what he said, flexing back. "Muscles?" I said, still laughing.
"Yeah, muscles!" he said, laughing back, then giving an even more exaggerated flex, and raising both arms high over his head. "GRRRRR!"
Perhaps we've been playing with the superhero action figures a little too much lately.
But if I get too close to Jack when he's drawing, his interest in drawing is generally replaced by his interest in ME drawing. For a while it was us: "Draw Mommy....Now draw Daddy....now Jack. Where's Kate? Now Grandpa..." Then it was Backyardigans characters, over and over again. Then it was airplanes. Lately, although he hasn't actually watched "The Jungle Book" in several weeks, it's been Jungle Book characters: "Draw Magheera." (I know it's Bagheera, he calls him Magheera. I try and correct him, and he says, "Well. I call him Magheera.") "Draw Mowgli. Is that Mowgli? Mowgli doesn't have that much hair. Draw Sher-Kahn..." Recently it's also expanded into characters who only exist in the Jungle Book of his mind. "Draw Sher-Kahn's Daddy. Now his Mommy." Pause. "Now, over there. Draw Sher-Kahn's grandpa...."
The pictures typically end up a wild mishmash, with no blank space left. "Draw my puppy......draw my other puppy.....draw my Teddy bears.....Draw their babies....."
When they're done, he wants to hang them on his wall over his bed. There was an anxious moment a couple of days ago when we ran out of tape. He says, "Can we get tape and go put it on my wall?" So we get the tape and head upstairs, and he jumps onto his bed and picks a spot -- among the ever-dwindling free space -- and we tape the picture up there. It's quite a collection right now. They make him happy; I think I might have caught him saying good night to them one night.
On a totally unrelated note, Jack came running into Kate's room tonight when I was putting her in her sleeper. He was wearing his pajama pants and nothing else. He made some comment about how we have muscles, and while he did so he kind of flexed his arms and legs. I looked at him, laughed, and repeated what he said, flexing back. "Muscles?" I said, still laughing.
"Yeah, muscles!" he said, laughing back, then giving an even more exaggerated flex, and raising both arms high over his head. "GRRRRR!"
Perhaps we've been playing with the superhero action figures a little too much lately.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
6 Months Today!
Kate, who's 6 months old today, is a lot closer to her Mommy than her Daddy, for reasons too numerous to mention. Whereas Emily has been home for Kate's entire life (plus, she's her Mommy!), I spent her first few months swamped with football-season related work, and the past six weeks working in an office at my current temp assignment. Some progress in getting to know her was made during the six weeks between the two, but still -- she's Mommy's girl. The fact that about 95 percent of her sleeping still comes through nursing, and that she doesn't particularly care for pacifiers or bottles -- and totally rejects formula -- just increases Mommy's importance in Kate's world. And hey, it's only fair: Jack was certainly Daddy's boy for most of his first two years, when he saw a lot more of me than Mommy.
Anyway, the time I spent with Kate in January at least ensures that she no longer blinks in confusion when I pick her up after naps and such, or looks at me with fear (or at least concern) in the mornings. Indeed, she seems happy to see me most of the time, even eager to be held by Daddy every now and again, or turning to my voice; that kind of thing.
The best three elements of our relationship:
1. Diaper changing: I think I've mentioned this before, but whenever I'm having a hard time making Kate smile, changing her diaper seems to work. It's almost as if she gets a kick out of Daddy struggling to fasten the thing while she stiffens her legs, or puts her foot in her mouth, or maybe she just likes the air down there, who knows. Anyway, I tend to get lots of big smiles from this, even before I play This Little Piggy with her toes and peekabo and stuff. Although that helps too.
2. Morning: When she wakes up from naps, or in the middle of the night (not that I get many of those, naturally, since she wants nothing to do with me at those times), she's often hungry, or confused, and thus she cries and wails. A lot. But in the mornings, she's generally in a good mood. Much better than me, really. I open the door and look over the side of the crib, and her face lights up, she does a big grin, and sometimes she laughs or gurgles. Her little hands in fists, little feet stretching out her sleeper, she almost looks like she's running in place, pumping her arms and legs a little. As I said, I usually wake up in a cranky mood ("GGrrrr....woke up too much...Jack came in too often...stayed up too late....COFFEEEEEE!"), but after seeing her I don't stay that way for long.
3. Making her laugh: This happens at a variety of times, but usually when she's being held by Mommy. I look up and suddenly see her glancing my way with some minor interest, perhaps a little smile, as though waiting for me to do something. So, I play peekabo0. Or (usually) I just make faces. Big grins, stick out my tongue at her, whatever. And sometimes, this is hilarious to her. And so I make more faces, and then we're off and running.
Six months old today!
Anyway, the time I spent with Kate in January at least ensures that she no longer blinks in confusion when I pick her up after naps and such, or looks at me with fear (or at least concern) in the mornings. Indeed, she seems happy to see me most of the time, even eager to be held by Daddy every now and again, or turning to my voice; that kind of thing.
The best three elements of our relationship:
1. Diaper changing: I think I've mentioned this before, but whenever I'm having a hard time making Kate smile, changing her diaper seems to work. It's almost as if she gets a kick out of Daddy struggling to fasten the thing while she stiffens her legs, or puts her foot in her mouth, or maybe she just likes the air down there, who knows. Anyway, I tend to get lots of big smiles from this, even before I play This Little Piggy with her toes and peekabo and stuff. Although that helps too.
2. Morning: When she wakes up from naps, or in the middle of the night (not that I get many of those, naturally, since she wants nothing to do with me at those times), she's often hungry, or confused, and thus she cries and wails. A lot. But in the mornings, she's generally in a good mood. Much better than me, really. I open the door and look over the side of the crib, and her face lights up, she does a big grin, and sometimes she laughs or gurgles. Her little hands in fists, little feet stretching out her sleeper, she almost looks like she's running in place, pumping her arms and legs a little. As I said, I usually wake up in a cranky mood ("GGrrrr....woke up too much...Jack came in too often...stayed up too late....COFFEEEEEE!"), but after seeing her I don't stay that way for long.
3. Making her laugh: This happens at a variety of times, but usually when she's being held by Mommy. I look up and suddenly see her glancing my way with some minor interest, perhaps a little smile, as though waiting for me to do something. So, I play peekabo0. Or (usually) I just make faces. Big grins, stick out my tongue at her, whatever. And sometimes, this is hilarious to her. And so I make more faces, and then we're off and running.
Six months old today!
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Jack Tales
Jack is into telling stories these days, and having us tell him stories. Tonight he told a bunch, we did too.
Mine are usually just from my past. "Once upon a time, Daddy had a job raking rocks outside a nice hotel...." "Daddy and Mommy had a dog named Max, and Max loved to run at the park, and we'd let him off his leash and he'd run down into the water, come out, shake all over, grin at us, and run back in..." Jack can't get enough of these stories: "FIVE more stories!" he says.
Jack's stories tend to be short and sweet. "Once upon a time, Jack drew a picture. And he showed it to Mommy, and Mommy said, Oh, Jack, that's a very nice picture. And I said Thank you. And then Jack drew a picture and showed it to Daddy. And Daddy said, Wow, Jack, that's a great picture. And I said, Oh! Thank you."
Tonight I told him, I dunno, five stories. The last one ended with "...and Jack went to bed. Good night, Jack."
Mine are usually just from my past. "Once upon a time, Daddy had a job raking rocks outside a nice hotel...." "Daddy and Mommy had a dog named Max, and Max loved to run at the park, and we'd let him off his leash and he'd run down into the water, come out, shake all over, grin at us, and run back in..." Jack can't get enough of these stories: "FIVE more stories!" he says.
Jack's stories tend to be short and sweet. "Once upon a time, Jack drew a picture. And he showed it to Mommy, and Mommy said, Oh, Jack, that's a very nice picture. And I said Thank you. And then Jack drew a picture and showed it to Daddy. And Daddy said, Wow, Jack, that's a great picture. And I said, Oh! Thank you."
Tonight I told him, I dunno, five stories. The last one ended with "...and Jack went to bed. Good night, Jack."
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