Went to the beach with Jack today. Kate had a cold and cough so Emily stayed home with her. Here's how the trip went.
- Found a spot. Jack immediately wanted to bury me in the sand. I usually help him with this, otherwise it could take a while. He buried one leg while I scooped sand over the other. The way he did it, he used a little shovel to fill a bucket, which he then used to fill his dumptruck, which he then used to pour sand over me. Essentially he spent 5 minutes filling something he couldn't lift and then whacked me in the groin with a plastic dumptruck, as sand fell pitifully near my leg. Good times.
- We went down to the water. I pointed out how a guy was way out far but it was only up to his knees. We started off, walking out into the water. I was impressed by how game Jack was; I remember him being reluctant to go in, not so long ago. Perhaps when we lived in Colorado and he only saw the ocean on rare occasions - a trip to Mexico, basically.
- We played some games on the beach. One was "train," where I'd follow him and stop when he stopped. There was some "whoo-whooing." Another was "run from the seagulls." The seagulls had zero interest in us, but that didn't stop us from running madly for our seats, pretending to be statues, running for the water, running back to the beach, etc. Still another involved throwing shells into the water. Jack liked finding shells near where our towels were, running down to the water (a good ways from our towels), and heaving them in. We'd done this a few times when I pointed out there were a lot of shells right on the edge of the water. Thus, more time throwing, less time running back and forth. The game changed a little after that.
- Jack wore his wild, green patterned bathing suit and floppy blue hat. He looked like a little beachcomber. He ran on the beach oblivious to things like rocks and stuff that I know a year ago he would have gingerly walked around.
- We built a sand castle. It was pretty ugly. I'm a little out of practice, and Jack likes bringing more water than is necessary to create a moat. We built some towers that slowly crumbled into the moat. We used the shovels as flags in the collapsing towers. Then we kicked the whole thing over.
- We went to get food at the stand. Chicken nuggets, fries, burger. Jack danced around me while I waited in line. He was in a good mood. Ate lots of fries and nuggets, too.
- There was a lot of ketchup on Jack's face.
- We headed home and I gave Jack a ring pop from the cooler. He was pretty weary and nearly falling asleep as he sat in his car seat, wearing sunglasses and his floppy beach hat, noisily chomping the ring pop. Some of it didn't end up stuck to his sandy face.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Wally and Molly
Kate has taken an interest in Jack's Wally and Molly stuffed toys. Wally is a mini-version of the Red Sox' team mascot, Wally the Green Monster, and Molly is an effort to further cash in on fan interest...I mean, Wally's girlfriend. Anyway, Jack had started bringing Wally to school as a toy to nap with, and when Kate developed a similar fondness for him, we steered her toward Molly. Now of course she loves both of them. Anyway. Jack doesn't mind letting Kate play with Molly, and so she has been.
Kate's funny. First, she calls Molly, Wally. She still calls Wally Wally, but she also calls Molly Wally. Really. So this week I'd bring her into school, clutching Molly, and then in the afternoon I'd pick her up, and they'd tell me that Molly was in her jacket sleeve on its hook, and as I got the jacket, Kate would be saying, "Wally?" And then: "Wally?" And I'd say, Yes, Molly! And I'd give it to her, and she'd say, "Wally!" And sometimes it was "Wally, Wal-ly, Wah-ly!" And "Wah-ly, wah-ly, wah-ly!"
So she's been sleeping with Molly, and walking around with both Wally and Molly whenever Jack leaves Wally unattended. And it's pretty cute, because she at times treats them like her little dolls. (She really hasn't shown any interest in the babies ever since one of their heads fell off.) Today I gave her her sippy cup of milk, and she had some, and then she wanted to give some to Wally and Molly....she sat on the kitchen floor and held the milk up to their mouths.
Sometimes she'd just walk over to me with one of them, announce their name (It was always "Wally!") and then wander away. Today she also walked up with Molly, caught my eye, and then had her doing little claps. By which I mean, she used her hands to make Molly's little green hands clap. And she provided a soundtrack, too. "Tep, tep, tep," she said, happily. "Tep, tep, tep."
Emily told me Kate was doing this last night, too. When she was putting Kate to bed, at one point, she went in and soothed her a little. She rocked Kate, who was also holding Molly at the time. Kate held up Molly to her, and clapped her little hands together. And laughed and smiled.
"Tep, tep, tep. Tep, tep, tep."
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Father's Day Blog
6:05 a.m. I hear Jack's door open, him clomp along to the bathroom, things crash and slam in there, and then him head back into his room. More crashing. Typical morning, really, sometimes no different if Jack is trying to be quiet. A few minutes later our door opens, and there's a crinkle and a rustle of paper. Jack is there, holding something up. "For Father's Day," he says. It's a miniature plastic Dallas Cowboys football helmet, autographed by Tony Romo with an official certificate of authenticity. Jack actually tried to show it to me in his closet several times this week, but I kind of figured out early (maybe because he told me) that it was a Father's Day present and I resisted seeing it. And I owe a phone call to Aunt Cathy, who I think knows what the story is with it. Something about a raffle I believe. Jack: "But we don't like the Cowboys?"
6:15. Jack and Emily have gone downstairs to let me "sleep in," but Jack returns with Father's Day cards. And Kate, who's now awake and Emily deposits her on my lap. I open up the cards, ones made at home and school. Kate's from school has a picture of her in it, and her hand print, and she doesn't want to let me have it. She smiles coyly as she clutches it and moves away from me. Jack's includes a construction-paper tie and a beaded key ring, whose letters read "I LOVE YOU DAD." Jack asks me if he can keep it. Actually, he asked me on the way home from school on Thursday.
7:00. I make it downstairs for blueberry crumb cake and coffee. The kids climb over me a lot during it.
10:00. Watched a "Phineas and Ferb" show. Lots of good laughs.
11:00. We play some with Jack's toys and Kate's animal puzzle, her favorite toy these days. She likes standing the animals up (they're blocky wood puzzle pieces) and clapping happily when she's done, as well as showing them to me one by one, occasionally identifying them. Apart from calling the flamingo a "duck," no matter how much I correct her, she usually gets them right. Plus, she acts like she's correcting me: "No, Daddy. I keep telling you. DUCK. Duck." She's very firm on this point.
12:00. Kate's napping, Jack and I have had lunch, so we go out for father-son activities. First we collect some bread and go feed the ducks at the nearby office park. There was an incident once a year or so ago -- a couple of rather larger geese got greedy and came out of the water for bread -- which adds an element of danger to the whole thing. Jack was kind of shaken by it. So now we go and I make doubly sure they're not coming out of the water and am ready to scoop him up if need be. We heave all the bread in bit by bit, I take a picture of him with my cell phone -- he's wearing his little floppy hat, it's damn cute -- and we leave without incident.
12:30. We're at the fish store getting Jack more fish. We have four, so we're going up to eight. Just little fellers. Jack of course wants frogs, turtles, guinea pigs, rabbits, cats, dogs.....but ultimatley grudgingly settles for fish. "I want another Dodo," he says, which is the red one. The sole original survivor of the fish we bought him over a year ago. So I buy another red one and three others (which together are the same price as the red one, I might add) and we're off again.
1:00. The fish are in their new homes and Jack seems happy. So do they.
2:00. We play Candyland. I think Emily whispers to Jack to let Daddy win, and I put on a show of being all sad about losing, pretending to be morose or whatever. Jack kicks my ass anyway -- first legitimately, then by drawing the ice cream card which he has placed, totally without guilt, on the top of the deck. Father's Day or no, I'm not going to win my first Candyland game from Jack today. Maybe next year.
4:00. Jack's neighbor Max comes over for a bit. All three kids run around wildly for a while. Kate is fascinated by Max, I think. She stands in place and yells, "Max!" Pause. Then: "Max!" Max basically ignores her. She doesn't mind much.
6:00. We've eaten dinner, and now it's time for Fudgie the Whale, the best thing Carvel has ever made. It says "For a Whale of a Dad." Jack and Kate each get pieces of "Dad" and devour it with much enthusiasm. "Goodbye, Fudgie!" says Jack, as we pack the rest of him away into the freezer. Kate continues eating, pausing only to say, "More?"
7:00. Hide'n'seek. I make Jack laugh from his standard hiding place in his room by pretending to talk underwater in his fish tank ("Arebbbbb youbbbbb therebbbbbb Jackcbbbbbbbb?") and then, when he's hiding near Emily's dresser, bonking my head on my desk repeatedly as I look for him under it. High comedy, for him anyway. I have a bit of a headache, but it's a small price to pay.
8:00. I slip out of Jack's room having read him stories and sung him to sleep ("Sixteen Tons," which he now sings along with). A special day, but really, just another one of being Jack and Kate's father.
6:15. Jack and Emily have gone downstairs to let me "sleep in," but Jack returns with Father's Day cards. And Kate, who's now awake and Emily deposits her on my lap. I open up the cards, ones made at home and school. Kate's from school has a picture of her in it, and her hand print, and she doesn't want to let me have it. She smiles coyly as she clutches it and moves away from me. Jack's includes a construction-paper tie and a beaded key ring, whose letters read "I LOVE YOU DAD." Jack asks me if he can keep it. Actually, he asked me on the way home from school on Thursday.
7:00. I make it downstairs for blueberry crumb cake and coffee. The kids climb over me a lot during it.
10:00. Watched a "Phineas and Ferb" show. Lots of good laughs.
11:00. We play some with Jack's toys and Kate's animal puzzle, her favorite toy these days. She likes standing the animals up (they're blocky wood puzzle pieces) and clapping happily when she's done, as well as showing them to me one by one, occasionally identifying them. Apart from calling the flamingo a "duck," no matter how much I correct her, she usually gets them right. Plus, she acts like she's correcting me: "No, Daddy. I keep telling you. DUCK. Duck." She's very firm on this point.
12:00. Kate's napping, Jack and I have had lunch, so we go out for father-son activities. First we collect some bread and go feed the ducks at the nearby office park. There was an incident once a year or so ago -- a couple of rather larger geese got greedy and came out of the water for bread -- which adds an element of danger to the whole thing. Jack was kind of shaken by it. So now we go and I make doubly sure they're not coming out of the water and am ready to scoop him up if need be. We heave all the bread in bit by bit, I take a picture of him with my cell phone -- he's wearing his little floppy hat, it's damn cute -- and we leave without incident.
12:30. We're at the fish store getting Jack more fish. We have four, so we're going up to eight. Just little fellers. Jack of course wants frogs, turtles, guinea pigs, rabbits, cats, dogs.....but ultimatley grudgingly settles for fish. "I want another Dodo," he says, which is the red one. The sole original survivor of the fish we bought him over a year ago. So I buy another red one and three others (which together are the same price as the red one, I might add) and we're off again.
1:00. The fish are in their new homes and Jack seems happy. So do they.
2:00. We play Candyland. I think Emily whispers to Jack to let Daddy win, and I put on a show of being all sad about losing, pretending to be morose or whatever. Jack kicks my ass anyway -- first legitimately, then by drawing the ice cream card which he has placed, totally without guilt, on the top of the deck. Father's Day or no, I'm not going to win my first Candyland game from Jack today. Maybe next year.
4:00. Jack's neighbor Max comes over for a bit. All three kids run around wildly for a while. Kate is fascinated by Max, I think. She stands in place and yells, "Max!" Pause. Then: "Max!" Max basically ignores her. She doesn't mind much.
6:00. We've eaten dinner, and now it's time for Fudgie the Whale, the best thing Carvel has ever made. It says "For a Whale of a Dad." Jack and Kate each get pieces of "Dad" and devour it with much enthusiasm. "Goodbye, Fudgie!" says Jack, as we pack the rest of him away into the freezer. Kate continues eating, pausing only to say, "More?"
7:00. Hide'n'seek. I make Jack laugh from his standard hiding place in his room by pretending to talk underwater in his fish tank ("Arebbbbb youbbbbb therebbbbbb Jackcbbbbbbbb?") and then, when he's hiding near Emily's dresser, bonking my head on my desk repeatedly as I look for him under it. High comedy, for him anyway. I have a bit of a headache, but it's a small price to pay.
8:00. I slip out of Jack's room having read him stories and sung him to sleep ("Sixteen Tons," which he now sings along with). A special day, but really, just another one of being Jack and Kate's father.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Reading
I read to Jack's class today. One of the Moms organizes it and I've gone a couple of times since April. Basically she gets a book for the class (usually something touching and inspirational) and puts it in Jack's cube for me, and I bring in a couple of additional books (usually something about pirate dinosaurs or cows that can type) to read.
I walked into the class and they were all gathered on the rug around Miss Gabriella, one of their teachers. I don't know if she preps the room by giving them warm milk or something, but they all seemed peaceful enough. Jack raised his arms up happily when he saw me, which is nice.
The teacher introduced me and I walked over to the upside down milk crate and sat down -- I felt like a stand-up comic saying Hi Hello there, like I should make a joke or something. But instead, I just said, Howdy, I've got some great books here: "Room on the Broom," "Click Clack Moo," and "Happy Birthday, Moon." Which one do you want to hear first? "Room on the Broom" got the most yells, so we were off.
I quickly realized I was going to have to read each page upside down. I tried reading a page and then showing the picture, but as soon as I turned the book away somebody complained that they couldn't see. This went on for a few pages until I just held the book so that they could see the pages and I was reading upside down. Might be why I have a headache now. Anyway.
Everyone oohed and aahed and laughed at all the right places. They also laughed at the punchline in Click Clack Moo -- "the ducks want a diving board! HAAAAAA!!!!!" -- it was pretty cute. And I even enjoyed the touching story about a little bear giving a gift to the moon; I feel like I'd read it before at some point, though I'm not sure when.
Jack pretty much stood at my elbow during all three stories. For some pictures, kids got up to see them from up close (like for example the witch's new broom at the end, with a little shower for the frog. Everyone wanted to see the shower for the frog). And at the very end, when Mr. Brendan told everyone to say thank you, a few got up to hug me. And then the rest did. And then I was crushed by about 15 kids, who thought it was pretty funny. "You're welcome "gah" cough akkk."
And then I waved goodbye and left, missing them all already.
I walked into the class and they were all gathered on the rug around Miss Gabriella, one of their teachers. I don't know if she preps the room by giving them warm milk or something, but they all seemed peaceful enough. Jack raised his arms up happily when he saw me, which is nice.
The teacher introduced me and I walked over to the upside down milk crate and sat down -- I felt like a stand-up comic saying Hi Hello there, like I should make a joke or something. But instead, I just said, Howdy, I've got some great books here: "Room on the Broom," "Click Clack Moo," and "Happy Birthday, Moon." Which one do you want to hear first? "Room on the Broom" got the most yells, so we were off.
I quickly realized I was going to have to read each page upside down. I tried reading a page and then showing the picture, but as soon as I turned the book away somebody complained that they couldn't see. This went on for a few pages until I just held the book so that they could see the pages and I was reading upside down. Might be why I have a headache now. Anyway.
Everyone oohed and aahed and laughed at all the right places. They also laughed at the punchline in Click Clack Moo -- "the ducks want a diving board! HAAAAAA!!!!!" -- it was pretty cute. And I even enjoyed the touching story about a little bear giving a gift to the moon; I feel like I'd read it before at some point, though I'm not sure when.
Jack pretty much stood at my elbow during all three stories. For some pictures, kids got up to see them from up close (like for example the witch's new broom at the end, with a little shower for the frog. Everyone wanted to see the shower for the frog). And at the very end, when Mr. Brendan told everyone to say thank you, a few got up to hug me. And then the rest did. And then I was crushed by about 15 kids, who thought it was pretty funny. "You're welcome "gah" cough akkk."
And then I waved goodbye and left, missing them all already.
Monday, June 15, 2009
The Little Stuff
The best thing about going on vacation, aside from the actual vacation, is the little stuff you get to appreciate when you get back....
1. Jack came in to our bedroom this morning, saw us for the first time since we got back late the previous night, stopped for a minute, then came over and hugged me. And then it was talk talk talk talk talk: "I got a pin at soccer.....Aunt Cathy cut my nails....what's THAT? (A toy shark we got for him.) Did you get me a remote controlled long-necked dinosaur, too?" On and on and on.
2. Emily brought Kate in. She sat on my lap and looked closely at my face. Yeah, I remember you. Daddy! Her face looked chubby to me. Either she'd gained weight in just five days, or I remembered her differently. It was kind of weird.
3. Kate wanted her baby. Then Uniqua. Then this toy. Then that one. And at one point she babbled on for about 5 minutes. I didn't understand much of it. Probably, "Grandpa my baby Mommy Jack. Grandma? Book fair Aunt Cathy. Grandpa! Watermelon juice baby Grandpa!" And more of the same.
4. Kate wanted me to read a book to her this morning. "Sit," she said. Not a request, or an order, but more like an invitation. I sat. I read her a book. We did this once or twice.
5. Jack came home from school with pictures he made. A zebra, a witch, a row of "Evil Robots." Two of the coolest grinning fish you'll ever see. (Gah! This reminds me. Jack got a big puzzle from a yard sale next door, with huge pieces that connected together and spelled out the alphabet, with a picture of things for each letter. After doing the puzzle, he sang the Alphabet song, but started replacing letters with words that they stood for, or occasionally other things indicated by the pictures. So it became, "A, B, C, Daddy, E, F, Kate's favorite word." (It was a picture of a goldfish, and Kate loves to say 'fish.' Or 'feesh.') "H, I, Jack, Kate, L, Mommy....") Nice to see his pictures.
6. Kate ended up bringing Jack's stuffed Oscar to school today. Or rather, Jack brought it, but left it in Kate's room when they dropped her off. The teachers there put Oscar into Kate's jacket sleeve. At the end of the day, as I got her jacket down, she saw Oscar. She laughed like it was the funniest thing she ever saw. Then didn't want to give up Oscar, which Jack of course wanted back It was a little ugly until he gave her Daffy Duck, a stuffed toy I've had in my car for 17 years now. And then she said, "Duck." And, "Duck!" I'd swear at some point she even said Daffy, although that one I'm not sure about.
7. At bed time tonight, Jack didn't want stories or songs. He just wanted to hug me as we lay down to go to sleep. So I let him, and I hugged him back.
1. Jack came in to our bedroom this morning, saw us for the first time since we got back late the previous night, stopped for a minute, then came over and hugged me. And then it was talk talk talk talk talk: "I got a pin at soccer.....Aunt Cathy cut my nails....what's THAT? (A toy shark we got for him.) Did you get me a remote controlled long-necked dinosaur, too?" On and on and on.
2. Emily brought Kate in. She sat on my lap and looked closely at my face. Yeah, I remember you. Daddy! Her face looked chubby to me. Either she'd gained weight in just five days, or I remembered her differently. It was kind of weird.
3. Kate wanted her baby. Then Uniqua. Then this toy. Then that one. And at one point she babbled on for about 5 minutes. I didn't understand much of it. Probably, "Grandpa my baby Mommy Jack. Grandma? Book fair Aunt Cathy. Grandpa! Watermelon juice baby Grandpa!" And more of the same.
4. Kate wanted me to read a book to her this morning. "Sit," she said. Not a request, or an order, but more like an invitation. I sat. I read her a book. We did this once or twice.
5. Jack came home from school with pictures he made. A zebra, a witch, a row of "Evil Robots." Two of the coolest grinning fish you'll ever see. (Gah! This reminds me. Jack got a big puzzle from a yard sale next door, with huge pieces that connected together and spelled out the alphabet, with a picture of things for each letter. After doing the puzzle, he sang the Alphabet song, but started replacing letters with words that they stood for, or occasionally other things indicated by the pictures. So it became, "A, B, C, Daddy, E, F, Kate's favorite word." (It was a picture of a goldfish, and Kate loves to say 'fish.' Or 'feesh.') "H, I, Jack, Kate, L, Mommy....") Nice to see his pictures.
6. Kate ended up bringing Jack's stuffed Oscar to school today. Or rather, Jack brought it, but left it in Kate's room when they dropped her off. The teachers there put Oscar into Kate's jacket sleeve. At the end of the day, as I got her jacket down, she saw Oscar. She laughed like it was the funniest thing she ever saw. Then didn't want to give up Oscar, which Jack of course wanted back It was a little ugly until he gave her Daffy Duck, a stuffed toy I've had in my car for 17 years now. And then she said, "Duck." And, "Duck!" I'd swear at some point she even said Daffy, although that one I'm not sure about.
7. At bed time tonight, Jack didn't want stories or songs. He just wanted to hug me as we lay down to go to sleep. So I let him, and I hugged him back.
Friday, June 05, 2009
Friday morning blog in real-time
6:30: I wake up to the squeaking noise of Kate shaking the bars of her crib. I'm thrilled that it's 6:30 rather than 5:30, and also that she's not wailing. I kick Emily out of bed because hey, I'll be here all day and I'm also sick.
7:00: Feel better after coffee and Advil. Emily has gone to shower, I'm giving Kate the rest of her breakfast. She likes our cereal, of course.
7:15: Jack is up. I feed his fish, then he comes downstairs. Kate sits on my lap and Jack sits next to me as I read her Backyardigans book, set under the ocean with the characters deep sea divers and mermaids. Whenever she sees a fish, Kate points excitedly. "Feesh! Feesh!"
7:45: Jack has breakfast, including three kinds of cereal (I used to cap him at 2, but it didn't seem a a battle worth having) and "green cantelope" (honeydew melon).
8:00: Kids playing. Kate starts making a big Lego tower and Jack brings out play-dough, which means soon Kate will also be playing with play-dough and it will be stuck to the rug before long. But hey, they're playing.
8:05: Jack: "Look, Daddy, we're playing nicely together!"
8:10: "Sorry, Daddy, but we're kind of getting play-dough on the rug."
8:20: Kate hits Jack. Jack says, "Noooooo...." I say, "Kate, don't hit Jack. Say you're sorry." Kate says, "Soss-ah." I say to Jack, Kate said she was sorry. Jack says, "No she didn't, she said 'Sah-Sah."
8:45: Jack is walking around with the ladybug blanket over his head. "I'M A MONSTER!!!!!!" he growls.
8:50: Now he's just Jack again. "I scared the monster away," he explains.
9:15: Jack is making a gift for his cousins with stickers on construction paper. Very nice. Granted, they're Kate's sticker, but she doesn't seem to mind.
9:30: Jack is playing with small Legos. Kate wants to go upstairs to get Peppa Pig's family.
9:45: Kate breaks one of Jack's Lego constructions. Jack wails. "Jack, she just wants to play with you." Small consolation for him, I guess.
9:55: Jack runs by with a Lego battleship he's made. Impressive. Kate runs by, chasing him, wailing. She looks at me in protest. "Waaaaahhhh!" As if to say, he's hogging those Legos! Make him stop!
10:15: Jack wants to watch TV; I'm thrilled he's waited this long to ask. I sell him on Sesame Street. Both sit on the couch, glued to Elmo and Maria the Cowgirl singing songs. I finish this blog and get more coffee.
7:00: Feel better after coffee and Advil. Emily has gone to shower, I'm giving Kate the rest of her breakfast. She likes our cereal, of course.
7:15: Jack is up. I feed his fish, then he comes downstairs. Kate sits on my lap and Jack sits next to me as I read her Backyardigans book, set under the ocean with the characters deep sea divers and mermaids. Whenever she sees a fish, Kate points excitedly. "Feesh! Feesh!"
7:45: Jack has breakfast, including three kinds of cereal (I used to cap him at 2, but it didn't seem a a battle worth having) and "green cantelope" (honeydew melon).
8:00: Kids playing. Kate starts making a big Lego tower and Jack brings out play-dough, which means soon Kate will also be playing with play-dough and it will be stuck to the rug before long. But hey, they're playing.
8:05: Jack: "Look, Daddy, we're playing nicely together!"
8:10: "Sorry, Daddy, but we're kind of getting play-dough on the rug."
8:20: Kate hits Jack. Jack says, "Noooooo...." I say, "Kate, don't hit Jack. Say you're sorry." Kate says, "Soss-ah." I say to Jack, Kate said she was sorry. Jack says, "No she didn't, she said 'Sah-Sah."
8:45: Jack is walking around with the ladybug blanket over his head. "I'M A MONSTER!!!!!!" he growls.
8:50: Now he's just Jack again. "I scared the monster away," he explains.
9:15: Jack is making a gift for his cousins with stickers on construction paper. Very nice. Granted, they're Kate's sticker, but she doesn't seem to mind.
9:30: Jack is playing with small Legos. Kate wants to go upstairs to get Peppa Pig's family.
9:45: Kate breaks one of Jack's Lego constructions. Jack wails. "Jack, she just wants to play with you." Small consolation for him, I guess.
9:55: Jack runs by with a Lego battleship he's made. Impressive. Kate runs by, chasing him, wailing. She looks at me in protest. "Waaaaahhhh!" As if to say, he's hogging those Legos! Make him stop!
10:15: Jack wants to watch TV; I'm thrilled he's waited this long to ask. I sell him on Sesame Street. Both sit on the couch, glued to Elmo and Maria the Cowgirl singing songs. I finish this blog and get more coffee.
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