Swimming, Drawing, and Dancing

Swimming

Jack started swimming class at the YMCA today. It's through his daycare; kids who sign up (whose parents pay for them) all ride a bus a few miles to the Y, and then go in the pool and apparently get some instruction. (We'll be going to a future class to peer from the observation booth.) I'd talked to one of his little friend's Mom, and his teachers, and they all spoke well of it, so what the heck.

Jack was very excited. We dressed him in his swimsuit this morning, with sweat pants over it, and gave him his superheroes backpack with underwear and a towel in it. Right after breakfast, Jack said, "I want to go in to school now." This was rare, plus it was half an hour before he normally went in. "Er, OK. Let me get dressed," I said. When I came down, Jack had his shoes on and backpack slung over his shoulder. Aside from not wearing a jacket, he was ready to go.

Between 10:30 and 11 (when the class was), we fretted, worried that the phone would ring. (He and I hadn't actually been swimming since briefly taking group lessons there a year earlier, which Jack seldom enjoyed, it being cold and all.) It didn't. Emily picked him up at the end of the day, and Jack, apparently, had done great. The teachers said they weren't sure how he'd do his first time. (Emily: "We thought he could go either way." Liz, the teacher: "Exactly!" They know him pretty well.) But he jumped in and was apparently a-OK.

Jack's version: "We rode on a bus like that one ... I was a little scared to jump in the water, but I jumped in, and then I was in the water swimming, and there was a big shark." "There was?" "Yeah! And he swum up and bit my toe!" "Now, I don't believe that." "Yeah!" "Really?" "No. Daddy, I was just making a joke." Then: "Do you know the Buddy system?" "Er, sure. Where you keep close to somebody else and they do with you?" "Yeah. My buddy was Casey. There was a swimming teacher, but he didn't get in the water. Just Miss Ruthie and Miss Lizzie."

Later, Jack showed us swimming on the living room rug. "C'mon, swim with me." And so we did.

Drawing

Jack's been drawing a lot lately, and it's starting to actually look like stuff. What was once random scrawls or dots now has shape. He drew something the other day that looked kind of like a tree. Emily was looking at it thinking that when Jack said, "It's a tree." I drew The Jungle Book characters on his board. Jack drew the elephant. It had kind of a triangular head, an eye, a bump for a nose. "I drew the elephant," he said.

Dancing

Jack dances around naked before and after his bath. Sometimes he does it before his bath, only wearing socks. Not so much dancing as just running around. I don't know when kids develop modesty or self-consciousness about their bodies. I hope for Jack that it doesn't happen for a long time.

Cinema Jackadiso

A rainy Friday afternoon. What better time to take Jack to his first ever movie? Horton Hears a Who was playing at the Port Chester cinema at 12:30, so off he and I went.

As we got ready to go, I told Jack he had to use his quiet voice in the theater. We practiced talking softly to each other and for Mommy. On the way there, I explained, OK Jack, if you have any questions, just make sure you ask me quietly. He whispered, "Okay." He was pretty eager to do the right thing.

Walking into the lobby was funny. It was one of these big 14-cinema Loews things -- a huge sprawl of carpet, lengthy candy counter, ropes showing you where to walk to get tickets. Jack walked a little ahead of me, slowly. I'm guessing the size of the place awed him a little; it did me. Since there was no one in line, I taught Jack his first subversive action: going under the ropes up to the counter. Granted, he didn't even have to duck, but it still felt brave. Ha!

After we got tickets, I asked Jack if he wanted popcorn. Jack loves popcorn, but as we were waiting in line, he started to get nervous about something or other, and said he didn't. I ignored him and we got popcorn. His nervousness, though, was a sign of things to come.

We headed into the movie. As we walked up the little ramp, the huge screen slowly came into view. Jack walked slower. His eyes, I'm guessing, got wider. For the next several minutes, everything was a nod. The place was nearly empty, which was nice; we wouldn't have to sit near anyone. I considered going to the far side of the theater, where there were fewer people, but didn't know whether being a long way from the door would be a good idea.

We walked up a few rows to a nearly empty aisle. "Do you want to sit here?" I asked. Jack nodded solemnly and sat down on the step. "Er, no, Jack, come here." I got him up and into the seat. Put him in it (they had booster seats, but I hadn't grabbed one on the way in, so I thought we'd try the seat). I sat next to him and offered him the popcorn. He dug in, but his eyes were glued to the big screen.

The previews started: other kids' movies. Something called "WallE" about a robot by Pixar. Another Ice Age movie. More previews. Now, I'm an adult, and I've seen a lot of movies, and even I was having my world rocked a little bit here by the yelling, the close-ups of various animals, the loud music, and the rapid cuts from image to image. So you can imagine that a 3-year-old at his first-ever movie was having a hard time with it. "I want to go home now," said Jack. A couple minutes later: "I just want to go home." I patted his shoulder reassuringly, sure it would be OK once we got through this preview. Another preview started. "I want to go home," he said again, hiding his eyes and starting to get upset. I started to worry.

Another preview. "I'm sure THIS will be the last one," I said nervously. "Popcorn?" "I just want to go home," he said, but he reached for the popcorn.

You never realize how loud and annoying previews can be until you see them through the eyes, or at least empathically, with a 3-year-old. Of course, I'll now probably end up seeing all of these movies, with Jack, but anyway. Pretty jarring stuff.

Finally the movie started. Opening credits, music. That was all nice. The the elephant showed up. And his friends, who were all yelling. Then the elephant -- voiced, I must add, by Jim Carrey, for whom yelling is kind of a staple -- fell into some water, and got attacked by some leaf bugs, and .... well, it was pretty loud, jarring, and headache-inducing. "I just want to go home now," observed Jack.

I decided -- 10 minutes too late, but better late than never -- that we were sitting too close. I picked up Jack, our popcorn, and my jacket, and headed to the back. We sat in the next to last row, on the side. At the same time, the movie settled down. Things improved.

Jack asked lots of questions. "Who's he?" "Where's the elephant?" "Is that Balloo?" "Where did the elephant go?" "Why is he doing that?" "Why is he the mayor?" "What's that?" Every other question was in his quiet voice. The rest were at normal speaking voice. Which was fine, because the movie was really loud. Which I suspect was largely for that reason. I'm guessing kids movies are played louder than other movies. Just a guess, though.

When the vulture showed up -- because all kids' movies have to have a "villain" and conflict and stuff, just like every other movie I suppose -- Jack gaped for a few seconds, then turned away from the screen and sort of curled his head down into his arm and reiterated a desire to go home. This continued for several minutes, while I silently pleaded for the scary scene to end. Then I said, "Oh, no, he's a NICE vulture. Yes, you see, he wants to play with Horton." Cautiously, Jack watched. Although he still didn't like the vulture, and I admit, the thing was kind of scary at times. Er, for a 3-year-old, I mean.

When the vulture attacked Horton, I said to Jack, well, the vulture just doesn't understand...he doesn't know that there's a whole world of Who's on that clover. This will become important later.

The last half hour of the film, Jack was glued to the screen. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes were wide, he was like me during The Usual Suspects or something, the first time I saw it. Fascinated. Anxious to see what would happen. And at the end, when everything worked out all right and the vulture smiled and cried because he was touched and stuff, Jack turned to me and said "He LEARNED!"

The movie ended, and Jack got right up. I said, well, that's your first movie. Jack kind of nodded, and started down the steps. He seemed pleased with himself, or happy from the movie, one of the two. We walked out of the theater and Jack splashed through every puddle. Got in the car, drove home.

Emily asked him how he liked it. Jack proceeded to go on a 5-minute monologue, most of which I don't recall. "The vulture got him!" was one of them. And "He LEARNED." (Jack sort of has a love-hate relationship with scary figures in movies - Sher-Kahn in Jungle Book, for example.) I'm pretty sure he said something along the lines of wanting to see it again right now.

And that was Jack's first movie.

Dah Dah

Kate says DaDa. Kind of. The other day I smiled at her and she said "Dah. Dah." She seemed to be talking to me. She said it again the next day when I peered over the crib in the morning. "Dah. Dah." Now, I can't guarantee she doesn't say it at other times -- when she's thinking about eating, or getting tired, or waking up, or making a messy diaper. But I'm going to tell myself that she's saying "DaDa." And, I might be right.

Fortunately, despite my working most of the day until the wee hours of the morning during her first three months of existence, and then working in an office all day during two of the next three, she likes me, and knows who I am. That's kind of cool.

KATE'S TOYS

One of the great things about Kate right now is that virtually all of her toys -- possibly all of them -- have identical charm. No matter what it is, she basically wants to grab it with her hands and put it in her mouth. This can be bad (today I had to keep a metal, musical "kittie in the box" away from her), or it can be good. I was reading Jack a book on the couch, and I noticed that she was sitting on the floor with no toys within reach, gazing up at us. A stuffed penguin, that Nana and Baba gave Jack, was on the couch near me. Without missing a line in the book, I tossed the penguin near her. She looked at it for a few seconds. Reached for it, just like all her various plastic rings and teething toys. And put it in her mouth. Jack didn't notice.

Jack's Fish

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.

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.

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.

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!

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."

Babe

Jack has gotten into the movie "Babe," about a lovable pig who herds sheep. It's one of those films we can enjoy together, even though I suspect he typically has no idea what's going on. He knows that the cats are bad, that's about it. And he recognizes the characters from the movie poster of it that has been on the wall of his room since he was born. Now he stands below the poster in the morning and says, "That's the sheep and that's the horse and that's BABE and that's...."

We drove up to Nana and Baba's for the weekend; my parents, who are just known as Nana and Baba to Jack, because they are also known that way to his Irish cousins. We were sitting at the table eating dinner when Jack noticed one of Nana's refrigerator magnets: "BABE!" he said. Or, "Hey, my movie pig!" or something similar. And we noticed it too, and said, oh yeah, it's a Babe refrigerator magnet....A Babe magnet. And the adults laughed at the joke.

Nana said, "You know Jack, when your Daddy was younger, he was one of those." I smirked. Emily snorted, politely I'm sure.

Jack, confused, said: "A pig?"

Criss Cross Applesauce ... Please.

Something I've learned from Jack recently is that sitting cross-legged, in what I imagine to be the current daycare vernacular, is called "criss cross applesauce." I have no idea how it came about, but Jack not only uses it but conjugates the thing: "Daddy, are you crissing crossing applesaucing?" I look down to see that I am in fact sitting cross-legged, which when I was a kid was called sitting Indian-style -- not anymore, obviously. Anyway, it's always disturbing to hear my three-year-old son using expressions that I'm unfamiliar with.

So today Jack got home and ran over to play with his new stuffed toy, Curious George, and his longtime favorite, a stuffed dog my parents gave us before he was even born, which has a fleecy white coat and he calls it his "sheep." He sat down on the rug and I sat down with him, and sometime during it he decided I could sit more comfortably than I was. "Daddy, will you criss cross applesauce. Please." And so I did.

What followed was a 10-minute conversation between Curious George (voiced by Jack) and his sheep (voiced by me). It went something like this.

Sheep: "Hi, Curious George."
Curious George: "Hi!"
S: "How was your day?"
CG: "Oh. Good."
S: "What did you do?"
CG: "Oh, I just played."
S: "That's a nice shirt you're wearing."
CG: "Oh. Thank you."
S: "It says Curious George on it."
CG: "What does yours say?"
S: "Mine says 'Boston Red Sox - World Champions - see, there's a picture of a 'B' on it."
CG: "Oh, that's nice. OK - let's go to a party."
S: "A party?"
CG: "Yes. Come on. Over there."
Jack walked Curious George across the rug to near his shelves of toys. "See, I have all these toys." I walked the sheep over to the shelves. "I see. Very nice toys, Jac--er, I mean, Curious George."
I know, not the most fascinating stuff. It was funny, though, because it reminded me of being a kid and playing with my brother, with our little "adventure people," who, I dunno, hiked, and rode in jeeps, and fought sharks and whatever else little action people did back in the day. Having conversations while voicing toys/stuffed animals -- I hadn't done it in a long, long time.

Just another thing Jack's teaching me, I guess.

"Are you the Daddy today?"

For most of Jack's life, Daddy has worked from home and Mommy has gone into the office. This has never struck Jack as odd; what is unusual for most families, in this case, is normal for Jack.

The past few weeks, things have changed. Emily's department was eliminated at her employer (while she was on maternity leave, nice), while I've been doing some contract work in an office setting. Jack didn't notice when he was still going to daycare, but it's closed this week so he's been home. And every morning I get showered and haul myself off to work, while Emily sticks around and handles the young'uns. And since in Jack's eyes the "standard" is Daddy being home and Mommy going into an office, it's messing his world up a little bit. The other day he said to Emily, "Are you the Daddy today?"

It's hard to be sure, but the change seems to be troubling Jack a little bit. Emily says he's missed me, which is clear in some ways (yesterday he babbled to me non-stop for about 15 minutes when I got home, all about the monsters in his car and how I was in the car and that we had all the paper in the car and the toys in the car and would I close the car doors please? And watch this Daddy - he jumped on one foot for a minute -- and on and on), and less obvious, but apparent, in others.

1. When I put him to bed the other night, he didn't want to fall asleep or let me leave. This is a routine occurrence on days when he napped, because he's generally wakeful, but unprecedented on days when he didn't nap, like that day.

2. Last night, he woke me up several times, moaning. This was a change from how he normally wakes me up, by coming into the room and (if I don't immediately wake up) shaking me. Tough to ignore when the moans steadily build in intensity and I'd like to either go back to sleep or keep him from waking Kate up, neither of which happened last night. I went in to figure out what was bugging him, but could never get a straight answer, either because he was half asleep or didn't really have a reason -- odds are he just wanted me to come in.

This morning, I asked him why he was moaning last night. "Well....." That was pretty much his initial answer. When I kept pressing, suggesting he had a bad dream, that sounded like a pretty good answer to him, whether it was true or not. "Yeah....I had a bad dream." "About?" "Um....polar bears." "Polar bears?" "Yeah. Polar bears. And my puppies woke me up."

3. He wanted me to get into bed with him this morning before we went downstairs. So, we did that.

4. Finally, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and then near-groggy from getting back into bed with him for 10 minutes, we made it to the door of his room, about to go downstairs. At which point he did something he hadn't done for, oh, about a year or two.

He turned to me and lifted his arms up in the air. "Carry?"

Live, or Memorex?

At the dinner table the other night, Jack made Kate laugh. Really laugh, the bust-a-gut, peals of laughter exploding out 0f her little face kind of laugh. I don't remember what it was; I think he was probably just babbling away about something, remembering something funny in The Jungle Book, or maybe reacting to something Emily or I said. Anyway, he reacted, and Kate cracked up. And he noticed, and responded, and she laughed even more. And he kept taking it up a notch, and her laughter did the same.

I was sitting there watching this and wondering if I should run to get the video camera in the next room. If I had the camera, I could record it, show it to our family and friends, immortalize it to watch for years to come. Then again, if I ran to get it, the moment might end while I was locating it, opening the lens, turning it on, adjusting the light and distance, and starting the tape. I'd get the recorder running and I'd suddenly be immortalizing two kids staring at me wondering what the hell I was doing.

Before I'd definitely decided one way or the other, the moment ended the laughter had dissolved into Jack asking for dessert and Kate's eyes drifting toward some vague spot on the ceiling. Immortal only in my memory. I hope.

Jack and Kate

Our kids are named Jack and Kate, but it's not because we're huge fans of the show "Lost." (Although putting Jack, Kate, and Lost in the same sentence like that will probably have this blog turning up in more online searches. I'm Sawyer, er, sorry about that.) We decided on "Jack" before the show even aired. I think our decision on "Kate" came down to just wanting to have a strong female name that went well (but not too well, so no "Jane" or "Jill") with Jack. And there you go.

One of our major early worries was Jack's treatment of Kate. While we were doting over her, how would he react? Would he be terribly resentful? Jealous? Play too rough with her, intentionally or accidentally? The first few weeks, when all she did was sleep while we passed her around like a little burrito from relative to relative, he wanted to be in the mix, always wanting to hold her. We went along with that by making him wash his hands, positioning him on the couch with huge pillows (or one of us) on either side of him, then placing her gently into his arms like she was made of glass. Jack was funny (probably feeding off our exaggerated caution and nervousness) -- he went stiff as a board, with legs and arms outstretched as she lay, blinking, in his arms. After about 10 seconds, Jack said "I all done...." And we gratefully plucked her out of his arms and reassured him about how well he did. In retrospect, we went a bit overboard.

The thrill of holding Kate gradually wore off, at which point Jack's interaction with Kate primarily involved singing to her. When he was younger, his cousins sang "Bay-bee Jack, Bay-bee Jack, Bay-bee Jack, we love you." Jack remembered that well enough that when Kate was crying or upset, he'd sing "Bay-bee Kate....Bay-BEE Kate....Baby Kate....How much is today." Or something similar which was part lullaby and part gibberish. Other times he'd speak to her, try to engage her, say, "What's the MATTER, baby?" Sometimes it would soothe her, and sometimes she'd cry even harder. Jack generally responded to that by singing louder, shouting "BABY KATE! How much is to DAY!" Good times on a long car ride.

Now Kate's 5 months old, and over the past month their relationship has changed yet again. She's fascinated by him. Unless Kate's starving, it's useless for Emily to try and nurse her with Jack in the room. She cranes her neck around to see where he is and what he's doing, even if we're only doing a puzzle or pushing one of his cars around. Jack, for his part, now recognizes this, and has started playing to the audience. He comes up close to her and talks to her, chattering away in a goofy voice, and singing. And at last, Kate reacts, bubbling over with laughter and fixing her eyes on him as he dances back and forth. Jack gradually loses interest (as he does with everything, gradually; he's 3) and wanders off, and her eyes follow him across the room. I'm probably only imagining her being disappointed, and hoping he turns around and comes back.

The other day we went to the Stepping Stones Museum in Norwalk, where little kids can run and play with various science-themed gadgets and devices. For Jack, this meant picking plastic balls out of one pool of water and putting them into another one, where they'd be swept into a whirlpool and carried down into another one -- at which point Jack would grab them and the process would start all over again. I think he did this for approximately 2 hours, give or take. Kate, meanwhile, spent most of the morning in the Baby Bjorn on my chest, watching Jack, smiling, momentarily concentrating, reaching out toward him, reacting to him.

Really, not so much different than us.

The Weekend

Weekends are a mixed bag. Great because we get to spend a lot of time with Jack, tough because entertaining a 3-year-old can sometimes be tougher than you might think.

We get up, and the first problem is that Jack is raring to go and I (to quote Charlie Brown) feel like I've been stepped on by an elephant. Once this would have been because I went to bed too late or drank too much or something, but now it's because I got woken up 3-4 times during the night, often by Jack. (See previous blogs.) Take last night, when Jack came in three times, and twice I had a hard time getting back to sleep. Once he had to go pee. That was fine. Once I don't really know why he got up. I failed to ask him and he failed to mention it. He just turned and headed back to his room. That was when I had a hard time getting back to sleep afterward. The best was when I asked him: Why? Jack: "My puppy said 'no' to me." (He sleeps with several stuffed animals, dogs of late.) I'm sure there's a clever way to respond to "My puppy said 'no' to me," but one didn't occur to me at 3 a.m. So I just said, "Jack. Don't get out of bed again." Until he shook me awake a little before 7, he didn't.

Anyway, Jack is raring to go, but one of the things he most likes to do these days is watch the DVD of The Jungle Book. It's not really The Jungle Book's fault, mind you; before that there was Backyardigans, or Maisy, or Charlie Brown Christmas or something. We don't let him watch TV from Monday through Thursday. I'm sure this will change at some point, but for now it's a case of there not being much time; he wakes up (ideally) around 6:30 and goes to school at 8, then gets home at 5:15 or so, with the evening being filled by a small amount of playing, then dinner, bath, stories, and bed. Just not much time in there to watch a half hour show (let alone The Jungle Book). The upshot (which I'm wondering if it might not be a problem in itself) is that he doesn't watch TV most of the week, so he craves it on the weekends. Or something.

Now, the best way to get him away from watching TV is by scheduling activities. This is hard when it's bitterly cold or rainy out, as it's been for much of the past couple of months, or when he's got a cold and/or cough (things which tend to go hand in hand with the bitterly cold and rainy thing). As I write this I realize it's kind of a lousy excuse, and granted, we do plan trips to the Aquarium (two weeks ago) and were going to hit the Stepping Stones museum this weekend (but he had a cold and cough), but then again, I'm not going to call up the neighbors to see if their child can play with Jack when Jack's not well -- I wouldn't want Jack catching anything from him, either, and I imagine they feel similarly.

So without a major activity, it's pretty hard to fill three days. A lesson for the future: make sure you've got at least two decent activities in a three-day weekend. Next weekend, Stepping Stones Museum one day, something else another. Weekend after that, Vermont. OK, we're making progress.

Lacking those, we have lots of minor activities. We went to the supermarket to recycle bottles on Friday. ("Wanna go smash bottles?" I say. "Yeah!" says Jack.) Jack also went to the grocery store with Mommy. And there's, you know, about 90 minutes out of the day. We do puzzles. Lots and lots of puzzles, over and over again. Read books. Do some coloring, which he enjoys for about 10 minutes. Build things with his blocks and legos and play with trains. These are all, also, 10-15 minute activities. Now, there have been days, and maybe there will be again, when he can play with his blocks for a good hour, happily. But then again, I can't remember the last day like that. I'll be down there gamely moving trains around the tracks, and within 10 minutes he'll lose interest and suddenly the lure of King Louie singing to Mowgli "I wanna be like You-ooooo-oooo" has taken him away.

I think we do OK. I know -- know -- he watches a lot less TV than most other kids his age. A woman I know has a son close to Jack's age and she reels off her son's "favorite" shows, which sounds like the entire morning lineup on Nickelodeon. That's a little scary.

Today was Grampa's birthday, and we all went out for brunch to Norwalk (A midday activity! Yes!), then came back and Jack and his cousins ran around the house. Suddenly, he enjoyed playing with his toys, for a good two hours straight. And I realized that the problem isn't necessarily his toys, but that -- much as I might like to think otherwise sometimes -- I'm not a kid anymore. I'm definitely not a 5-year-old girl. (Which is a good thing.) And however hard I try and silly I act, Jack's not going to have the goofy fun running around the house with me that he can with his crazy cousins. Which is also a good thing. Aside from the time we put him in a timeout for whacking Stacey with a plastic hammer, he had a lot of fun. And didn't ask or likely even think about watching TV.

So 1) activities and 2) activities with kids his age are the important lessons we've learned in recent weeks. And who knows? Maybe he'll be so wiped out that he'll stay in bed all night tonight. You never know.

Early to Rise

Jack's been getting out of bed really early - 5:30, 5:15, and 4:57 this morning. The way things are going I'll run into him getting up as I'm on my way to bed. This seems to happen in phases -- there's a month or so when he sleeps past 6 and is great, and then stretches like this one, which hopefully passes soon.

Anyway, I used to put him back into bed without saying anything. That's the advice, just put him back into bed without really interacting. Sometimes that helps, and sometimes he'd just show up again 10-15 minutes later. Then I'd ask what was wrong, why he was up. Sometimes he'd have an answer ("I have a booger," or "I can't find Baby Dragon"), and sometimes he'd have an excuse ("Um.....Will you put the blanket over me?" "The blanket that was on you until you got up?" "Yeah."), and sometimes he wouldn't know ("Um....I don't know).

Sometimes I'd try reasoning with him. "You need sleep," or "It's not morning yet." Not surprisingly, that doesn't resonate with a 3-year-old; the idea that he'll be more tired later if he gets up too early. Sometimes putting him back into bed was met with resistance -- wailing, crying, "Don't WANNA go back to bed!" so on and so forth. Great fun.

Recently it's been excuses/explanations, sometimes valid, sometimes not. "I have to go pee." Now, Jack still sleeps in a diaper, but I'm not going to chastise him for wanting to go in the potty, even at 5 a.m. However, when he comes out of his room again 10 minutes later and says, "I have to go poop," and then doesn't go, I tend to get a little suspicious. And when this continues every 15 minutes between 5 and 6, not only do I get exhausted and frustrated, but I'm starting to think there has to be a better way.

The other day I told Jack, after discussing it with Emily, that we'd get him some puzzles to keep in his room, so if he wakes up really early and can't sleep, he can quietly do puzzles. This seemed like a good idea at the time, although there are flaws. For one thing, he needs his sleep, especially nursing a cold and cough at present. He doesn't need to be sitting up doing puzzles at 5:15 in the morning. For another, saying it to him without actually putting puzzles in his room was pretty dumb. The next morning when I put him back in his bed at 5 a.m., he wailed for 10 minutes straight, a tantrum I'd like to believe is fairly unique in the world of 3-year-olds having tantrums:

"I WANT TO DO A PUZZLE!!!!"
"I WANT TO DO A PUZZLE!!!!"
"I .... WANT ... TO ... DO ..... A ....PUZZLLLLLLLLLE!!!!!!"

This morning, perhaps because I was tired, I tried a new tactic. "Remember Santa Claus? He's watching, and he knows if you're asleep or awake. He wants you to sleep until morning." Jack said "Okay." I put him back to bed. Around 10-15 minutes later, Jack went into the bathroom on his own. I heard him fumbling around, maybe going pee, maybe not, and then a few minutes later he was in our doorway, pajamas around his ankles. "Daddy, can you help me put my diaper back on?" I crawled out of bed and went to the bathroom to get his diaper back on. Once we'd done that, Jack said,

"Did Santa bring me presents?"

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."

Christmas

Jack woke up at 5:40. Too early. Despite his protests, I put him back to bed.

We woke up around 7, and he was still asleep. Made coffee, checked the email, finally said, well, guess I'll start making noise. Eventually he woke up. Probably the last Christmas morning he'll sleep past 7, so I should have enjoyed it while I could.

I gave Mommy the heads up to get the video camera rolling and we headed downstairs. Went into the living room, where presents in special Santa Claus wrapping paper were displayed. Also his stocking, overflowing with a Santa toy and a Rudolph toy sticking out the top. "Santa came!" we said excitedly. Jack: "Yeah!" But it wasn't quite an exclamation point. It was more of a, well, yeah, OF COURSE Santa came, Daddy.

I'd have to check the video tape, but I'm assuming he went for the stocking first. Maybe he went for one of the wrapped Santa gifts. Tough to say. He pulled out the stuffed toys, and there was much happiness. He pulled out the Harold the Helicopter toy from "Thomas the Tank Engine." It was in a little cardboard box with with Harold's picture on it. "What's that, Jack?" We asked. "What did you get?" He looked at it, then literally tossed it over his shoulder with disdain. "This is just a box," he said. And we said, "No! Look inside it!" He goes over to it and gives it another look. "Oh, it's Harold!" He's about to move on to another present when we say, no, it's not just a picture! He finally opens it, with help. "OH, it's Harold the Helicopter!"

He opened a book. Might have been "Chicka Chicka 1 2 3." Takes a look at it. Then: "Read it, Mommy." The next 5 minutes are spent with Emily reading the book to him. Opens another book. "Read it to me, Mommy." Emily reads the book to him.

As Emily noted, the cool thing about this Christmas was it was the first one where he was actually fully into opening his own presents, enjoying each thing, moving on to another one ("I want to open another present now"), and enjoying it.

We opened his Lincoln Logs from Nana and Baba. Spent a while building a house. "This is Santa's house," he said when it was done, putting the little Santa figure I'd put in his stocking by it. Then he put the toy digger truck we'd given him by it. "Santa's digger," he explained.

It's a few days later now, and stuff fades. I know it was all pretty great.

A favorite memory of mine involves the entire history of this big blue dinosaur, by Imaginext. He mentioned wanting it about a week before Christmas ("I want my big blue dinosaur"), and we had no idea what he was talking about. Turns out he'd seen it while out with Grandpa, so we called him up, and he said, yes, I know what it is. So, he shows up one day before Christmas with the dinosaur. I sort of assumed something the size of, I dunno, a loaf of bread at most. The thing was half the size of Jack. And when you pushed a button on its tail, its eyes lit up, head turned around, it make a roaring noise, its whole neck twisted. It wasn't even in an actual box, just kind of half on a cardboard platform.

So I wrapped this enormous thing in a huge box, and toward the end on Christmas, I gave it to Jack. He got the paper off, but was left with the box. I told him to have Grandpa help him. They got the box open, and Jack's eyes get wide, "Ohhhhhhhhh" (he kind of draws in his breath in a big way, I don't know if "Oh" is really appropriate, but it's the best approximation) "My blue dinosaur!"

After that I got distracted, but I looked over 5 or 10 minutes later and Grandpa was still trying to get the dinosaur off his cardboard platform. They make these toys basically impossible to get free of the packaging, I guess so parents get to incur hand injuries while opening them, or maybe damage the toys so they'll have to buy more. Anyway, they finally got it out, and I saw Jack and Lyndsay playing with it. They were kneeling there, and the dinosaur was standing between it. Jack pressed its tail, and its eyes lit up, its head reared around, and it sort of glared at Jack. He was smiling and laughing, but also backing away so quickly it looked like he was slipping on ice. Grandpa was laughing. The dinosaur? Still roaring.

It was great.

Christmas Eve

Jack's almost 3 now, so Christmas was much different than a year ago. First, he was really into it, all about Santa and Frosty and Rudolph and so forth. He's a little unclear on the details -- to him, they're all good friends and stuff, and he knows the Abominable Snow Monster is tied up in there somehow, though he's not too sure about him. But he's seen the specials, read the books, and talked a lot about them. (Plus they're all on his Christmas list -- "I want a Santa toy and a Rudolph toy and...." I hate to say it but I think he even HAD an Abominable Snow Monster toy, or would have, had I not given it away to Goodwill recently, figuring at the time he either wouldn't be into it or would be afraid of it.)

So he's into Christmas now, and the other way things were different is that he can do so much more. We thought taking him to church, which I knew would make both his Mommy and his Mommy's Mommy happy, was reasonable, because we could tell him to keep his voice quiet and he'd understand, as opposed to last year. And he could open his own presents, and write a letter to Santa, and all that stuff. And so we did.

The letter was funny. "I love you Santa. I have a baby sister. I want a Santa toy. And a reindeer and Frosty toy. And (at this point we prodded him by mentioning things we knew he'd like, and he, reminded of them, agreed) ....... And a candy cane. So I can eat." (Jack, incidentally, did not like the one candy cane he had. Too tart, I think.)

On Christmas Eve, we went to church. Initially, Jack wanted no part of it. But I told him his cousins would be there, and that we'd see Christmas lights afterward, so he came around. We all got dressed up, me in a shirt with a collar and Jack in his red Christmas sweater, and Kate in a dress with leggings that looked like a Santa suit -- just beautiful. We headed off to church with Kate, as she often does in the car, wailing somewhat. Jack soothed her by saying "SHHHHH!!!!! Stop, Kate!" and singing "Baby Kate, Baby Kate..."

We sat in the back and hoped he wouldn't be too loud or disruptive. And miraculously, he wasn't. (If he had been, he'd have been drowned out by the kids behind us anyway.) Kate was slightly more disruptive, but easily soothed by her Mommy as only a Mommy can, and Jack primarily spent the time saying things like "Why aren't they singing now?" and "They're not singing anymore," and so forth. He liked the singing. And the pictures in the books Emily brought from the back, featuring Noah loading a bunch of animals onto his ark. ("Why is he doing that?""So they won't get wet.") He had a chance to go up for the Children's Communion, or whatever it was called, but was afraid. Instead we all went up for Communion, Jack in my arms and Kate in Emily's, all of us looking beautiful of course and Kate drunkenly sleeping on Emily's shoulder. Jack hugged my shoulder as he was blessed, and we edged past the people offering wine. At the end, they sang Hark the Herald Angels Sing, which we called Jack's attention to; he recognized it as the Charlie Brown song.

We drove home -- very low on gas, I admit I spent some time thinking about running out of gas at 9 p.m. on Christmas Eve -- by way of various neighborhood side streets, admiring the lights and decorations. This was cut short for three reasons. One was that we were low on gas. Two was that it was already an hour or two past Jack's bedtime. And three was that Kate woke up and wailed louder and more violently than we'd ever heard her before; so much that she became hoarse and it was just a scratchy, rattling gurgle of woe in her throat. I'm saying, "Look, Jack, it's Rudolph!" over the din while Emily is saying, "Er, can we drive a little faster?"

We got home, and left a note for Santa Claus. As with the list, Jack didn't quite get it. OK, Jack, 'Dear Santa:' Now what do you want to say? Jack: "Cookies for you Santa. I love you Santa." And what else? Jack: "I love you again." And? "Hi Rudolph! And Frosty too. And Bondable Snow Monster." Then we drew pictures on the note, Jack drawing a series of broad scribbles ("That's a picture of Santa's cookie") and me drawing, at Jack's request, Santa, Rudolph, and the Abominable Snow Monster. And then we each had a cookie, went up and read some stories, and I put Jack to sleep.

He was upset that he wasn't going to get to see Santa. I explained how Santa came when boys and girls go to sleep. This didn't really soothe him. There was some crying. I explained how when he woke up, Santa would have left presents for him, and eaten the cookies we left, and replied to his note. (And so he did.)

I don't know if that made Jack feel better, but he slept until morning. Which I'll write about soon.

Rudolph Book

"Where's the adomible snow monster?"
"Is THAT the adbomibled snow monster?"
"Why is he not waking up?"
"I don't LIKE the adbombidle snow monster!"
"Why is the abdomible snow monster out there?"
"Where is the abdominable snow monster?"
"Why did they drop a big rock on him?"
"Because they didn't want him to wake Rudolph up?"

"Where is the adbodmible snow monster?"

"Mommy, let me show you the abdomible snow monster...."

"Why is he up there? Is he going to fall down?"

"Where is the abomidable snow monster?"

Frosty

Jack likes Christmas songs, but Grammy, when she puts him down for naps, tends to sing religious songs. She sang one, and Jack said, I don't think that's a Christmas song. And Grammy said, it is if you go to church.

So then she sang Frosty the Snowman, and came to the line about him dancing around, and Jack said, but Frosty doesn't have any feet. And she said, you're right, how do you think he dances?

And Jack said, "He dances right on his butt."

Went on the train with Mommy and Daddy

Since we live in the New York City area now, we felt compelled to do those things that New York City area people do, which is to go into Rockefeller Center at Christmas time and see the big tree and the lights and stuff. And we figured, hey, it'll be great for Jack: He'll get to ride a train for the first time, and see the biggest tree ever, and see some lights and stuff.

So we lined up a babysitter for Kate, talked up the trip to the City all week, and when Saturday morning rolled around, off we went. First came dressing really warm, which Jack is typically reluctant about -- I think he doesn't quite get that just because it's not cold INSIDE the house, it will be cold outside. But we put on heavy jackets and hats and gloves; well, most of us did. I forgot my hat, which is ironic since I have the least hair. Anyway, that wasn't the worst of the things I forgot.

We left the house fully expecting to miss the train, seeing as it came every half hour, we had about 10 minutes to get there, for the next one, and we had to stop for cash. We were still on the way for cash when we realized that I'd forgot to bring the umbrella stroller. Which meant I'd be carrying Jack a lot in the city. If we got there. Fortunately, we made the train, and stood on the platform to see a whole lot of trains zoom by -- one of which was finally ours. This was one day after I'd got Batman for Jack (see below blog entry) so he was carrying Batman, who I naturally knew had only about a 50-50 shot of not being left on the train, dropped between the train and the platform, etc.

Jack was properly appreciative of the train. I think he was quiet as it got started, but since it started up slow, he was like, "Why is it stopping?" And then it picked up, fast, and he was like, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh." At some point he was on his knees at the window. At another point he was standing Batman up on the windowsill to look out. Toward the end of the trip, which was probably half an hour or so, he was already starting to fade. We'd got a late start and it was kind of close to when his nap would be, plus he often falls asleep around midday in the car anyway, so why would it be any different with the train.

We got off the train and walked through Grand Central Station. "Daddy, carry me! Carry!" Hands reaching up to me. He was heavier with the bulky jacket, I think. I'd been to Grand Central once before, maybe, but it was still pretty insane on a Saturday. There was Christmas music playing and a light display flashing on the ceiling above us. That was kind of nice. Jack was interested. Not enough to walk much, but interested.

We walked to Rockefeller Center. I think I thought Emily would know where she was going a little better than she did. We referenced the map a lot, with my mind racing, yes, this is how people get robbed in The Big City: by looking like they don't belong and don't know what the hell they're doing.

And it was cold. Really cold. Unseasonably cold, actually, in the 30s. And windy. Walking between buildings on our way there, it was like we were in a wind tunnel, or maybe Alaska, and I was carrying my sled dog in my arms. Or Jack, whichever. Who wasn't named after Jack London, although that's kind of a cool name. Jack London Richardson. Anyway.

We finally got near, got swept across the street in a sea of people. Jack had been talking about going home for a little while. He was cold. But we were going to see this huge tree first. Got there. Saw it, took some pictures, said, Jack, isn't that a big tree? Jack: "Yeah, that's a REALLY BIG TREE!" I think he was into it. When he wasn't feeling really cold. We stood up on a bench to get a picture, like everyone else, and got reprimanded by some security type. "Can't do that," he said. Er, everyone else is. But OK.

At the ice rink underneath the tree I saw Santa on ice skates. I did! I told Jack, and that piqued his interest quite a bit, but we didn't see him again and I suspect Emily thinks I was lying. Oh well. I saw him.

Somebody offered to take a picture of us, and we have two -- Emily and I are smiling in both, while Jack has his head buried in my shoulder. Tried to get him to look up and smile; no luck. Forgot to bribe him. Oh well.

Jack: "Want to go home!"

And so we did. We rode the train on an hour-plus round trip in order to spend about 30 minutes in the city (20 minutes on the disoriented round-trip walk from Grand Central to Rockefeller Center, 10 minutes there, which by the way I now recognize when I see it on the Today show and stuff - hey, I was there! I'd never been).

Monday afternoon when I picked Jack up at school, I checked the board outside his class where they say what every child said they did over the weekend. Next to Jack's name, where it often reads "Played with Mommy and Daddy" or something, no matter what we do, it read,

"Went on the train with Mommy and Daddy."

I'm Batman

So I kind of like superheroes and comic books. Have for a while. We all have our weaknesses. So, when we went shopping to Old Navy and Carter's in Stamford today, I brought the kids to the comic book store. Which is to say, while Emily went to the stores to shop for clothes for everyone, I pushed sleeping Kate in the stroller and half walked with, half carried Jack (When he gets tired he stops and holds his arms up to me: "Carry!") the two blocks or so to the store.

Ran over a couple of guys' feet on the way into the store with the stroller. Doorway is a bit narrow. We get inside, I exchange pleasantries with the owner, Jack says, "What's THAT? What's THAT, Daddy? Why is that back there? What is that DOING there?" And I live in fear that he's going to grab something valuable, destroy it, and he'll have the world's most expensive coloring book.

Anyway. In the store, Kate woke up and started wailing, which made sense; she's a girl, and there's not a lot of female energy in most comic stores. I actually had wanted to find a Daredevil action figure for Mikey, my nephew (I'll keep looking, Robin), but couldn't, but in the clearance rack there was a Batman figure, which caught both my eye, and Jack's. So yeah, we bought him. And Jack carried him around in his box for the rest of the excursion, into the other stores, and meeting up with Emily, and back home. And at home we got him out of the box, and played with him and The Flash together. This is really the best part -- Jack had Batman, who had a cape, and figured he flies, so he goes, "And he FLIES at the Flash!" and kind of holds him aloft. And I said, well, really, he kind of uses his cape to glide. And Jack says, "Oh." And then, regarding The Flash: "But him doesn't fly. Right?" And I said, no, he just runs really fast. And then Jack grabs the Batman and says "Oh no, he's chasing me, he's chasing me!" And I ran after him with the Flash, saying, I'm going to catch you! And we ran around the downstairs for about five minutes, living room, kitchen, dining room, hallway, living room. Etc.

Later that evening, shortly before bed, Batman was missing. And I asked Jack where he was, and Jack didn't know. And we looked a bit, and then I remembered that Jack had brought him outside with us at one point. We'd gone to get the mail, and we'd gone in the backyard to grill a steak in the evening. And of course, it's dark now. But I said to Jack, did you leave Batman in the yard? And he said no.

But Batman still didn't turn up, and while Jack was taking his bath, I said to him, are you SURE you didn't leave Batman outside? And he said no, but didn't sound convincing. And I said, well, maybe that's where he is, huh? And Jack said, maybe. And I said, well, after your bath, I'm going to go out and look for him, because we can't leave him out there. And Jack said, Why? And I said, well, he'll be lonely in the dark. And Jack said, why will he be lonely? (Silly me, I figured that explanation would make sense to him, but it didn't.) So I said, well, actually, we just can't leave toys outside. Another kid could find him, or a dog or something.

Now, THIS made sense to Jack. "Yeah! A dog could find him. And he could BITE him! Or another kid could take him. Don't do that! Don't take him or, or BITE him!" So we were in agreement that I had to go out to get Batman.

You can probably guess the rest. I went outside in the pitch dark with a little lantern light and walked around for 10 minutes, expecting to find Batman at best and dog poop or half-eaten animals or something or whatever at worst. But instead I found nothing. Went back inside and told Jack I couldn't find him but I'd keep looking. And then I put Jack to bed and spent another 15 minutes outside, walking up and down the yard, in the dark, looking for Batman. And I realized that me in the dark with a flashlight on a manhunt -- a Batmanhunt -- well, I was Batman, really.

Later that evening, I found Batman, inside, sitting in plain sight on the sideboard next to the dining room table.

Bad Pronouns

Jack's latest charming thing, to me anyway, is his misuse of pronouns. He's totally attached to his stuffed puppy right now, and that's where it crops up most often. Not "He needs a bath," but "Him needs a bath."

"Him is SLEEPING."
"Him got a shot."
"Him wants to go upstairs."

Part of me wants to correct him. Say things like, "Oh, HE does?"

But I let it pass.

Him won't be this little forever.

Nighttime Visits

Jack's been waking up during the nights, or early in the morning. There are various factors. It's gotten cold, and he tends to kick his blanket off, so he wakes up cold sometimes. Kate might wake him up on occasion with her crying. Daylight savings. Whatever.

Anyway, he's been waking up. Here are some of the stories.

- Heard Jack wailing. Walked into his room. He was standing next to his bed, his stuffed puppy locked in his elbow, head back, wailing. "Jack!" I said. "What's wrong?" "WANT MY LITTLE TEDDY BEAR!!!!!" He has these two little bears they gave him at the hospital when he had surgery. They tend to get lost in the blankets. I found the missing one and gave it to Jack. He immediately stopped crying, flopped on the bed, and fell asleep.

- Jack was at the side of the bed, holding his step stool for the bathroom sink. I groggily awoke, it was almost time to get up. "Jack...whu...?" I mumbled. "Want to get into bed with you and Mommy." Now, we're not opposed to this, except for the fact that 1) he doesn't sleep, 2) he chatters away and we don't sleep, and 3) he'd wake up Kate, who's about 4 feet away in her crib. I walked Jack back to his room.

- Jack was at the door. I got up, walked him back to his room. It was around 1 a.m. He sat down glumly on the side of the bed. "Jack, what's wrong?" I asked. "I don't want to be all ALONE in here....." he said pitiably. I really didn't know what to say there.

- I went to bed at 11. Slept. At 11:30, I woke up to see Jack there. "I'm coldy, Daddy. I'm coldy." I put the blanket on him and went back to bed. 11:45, he's back. "Don't want the blanket on." "OK, Jack, well, you can just kick it off, but I think you'll be warmer with it," I said. 12:15. Jack again. "Daddy, will you put the blanket on me."

- 5:30. Jack at the bedside. "Is it morning time?" No, Jack, it's the middle of the night. I bring him back to his bed.

- 5:45. Jack again. "NOW is it morning time?"

Jack's Halloween

Thought I'd try something a little different this time. I'm going to turn this one over to Jack.

Playing outside at school when a big car pulls up. It's Daddy's car! He's coming this way! "Daddy!" I run over to greet him. We're going home! No...wait....this is Halloween! Yeah! When I get candy! He picks me up, I say goodbye to the teachers, and we go to the car. Hey, there's my baby sister! She's not usually here for the pickups. I want to touch her head! "Baby Kate....Baby Kate...Baby Kate...How much is today." That's my new baby song.

Mommy was inside getting my stuff. There's my treats bag! And my dragon costume! And my treats bag. With CANDY! Mommy says Heyo to me. "Heyo!"

We're going to Aunt Taffy's. Kate starts crying. "Bay-beee Kate....Bay-beeeee Kate...." We leave Mommy and Kate there. Daddy asks if I want to go get the pizza for dinner. "And garlic balls?" Yes, he says, and garlic balls. "Want to go get pizza with Daddy."

At the restaurant these men are throwing pizza dough into big ovens. "What are those men DOING? Look at those guys! What are they DOING?" Daddy says they're making pizza. And garlic balls? I wonder.

Back at Aunt Taffy's. We're eating pizza and garlic balls. StaceyLyndsay is crying. She wanted chicken fingers. I like chicken fingers too, but this is PIZZA.

We finish eating. LyndsayStacey is crying. She hurt her hand. She's sad.

Now we're all in our costumes. Mommy is taking pictures. When do we go get our candy?

We go outside. StaceyLyndsay and Ranna go first, with Uncle Ekan behind them. Uncle Sam next. Then us. "Carry!" Daddy says he'll carry me some but I have to walk up to the houses, say trick or treat, and Thank you.

First house. I walk up the driveway. Long driveway! Pumpkins on the lawn. "Daddy, look at that big pumpkin!" People on the porch. I hold out my pumpkin bag. She's saying something to me. Does she have candy? There's candy! Daddy's yelling to say thank you. "Thank you." She's smiling at me. She gave me candy!

Next house. I'm walking again. Woman on porch. She says, ooh, what a scary dinosaur. "It's a dragon," I say. More candy!

Next house. Woman calls somebody inside to come out. It's a BIG DRAGON. That scary. Want Daddy. Da....Hey, she's got candy. OK. Get the candy and go. Daddy's there. "Jack, that guy has a big dragon costume like you do." I say, "yeah...."

More houses. I have a lotta lotta candy. Tired now. "Daddy, carry." Daddy carries me.

We're back at Aunt Taffy's. Daddy's not walking as fast as he was when we left. Not sure where Ranna LyndsayStacey are. They were moving FAST. I couldn't SEE them. Yeah.

Sitting on Aunt Taffy's porch. Daddy says, you can have 5 pieces of candy. Aunt Taffy: "FIVE? I let my kids have one." Daddy says, as I was saying Jack, 3 pieces of candy. "Okay." I eat three pieces of candy. I have a lot of chocolate on my hands and face.

In the car on the way home, I'm still eating that third piece. Full now. "Daddy, I want to save this one for later. Daddy, I want to save this piece for later." He says okay and holds out his hand. I hand him the rest of my chocolate bar. It kind of melted. It sticks to my hands a little bit. And his.

Jack, he says, we can't save this. You have other candy. I'm full and tired so I say OK. I watch as he drives one-handed and asks Mommy for a wipe. I think he has a lot of chocolate all over his hand.

We go home and go see Max's Mommy next door. She gives me a bag of treats. More candy? Or toys? Tired now.

We're back in our house now. Daddy and I go out on the porch to light the pumpkin. He says, "Happy Halloween" to us. Max and his Daddy come over and we give him candy.

We blow out the pumpkin. Halloween is over.

But I have a lot of candy.

Is tomorrow Christmas?

Breakfast table

Jack's been waking up too early a lot of morning. Sometimes I think Kate wakes him up, sometimes it's cold (he kicks the covers off), whatever. This morning he woke up around 5, we put him back in bed, he got up 20 minutes later, etc. Finally I got up with him, went downstairs, made coffee, watched Red Sox highlights (Sox win). Later there was some kind of meltdown -- I think he wanted more raspberries, or he didn't want milk, or some other kind of thing that only would upset him if he, you know, woke up around 5. He wailed a lot.

Anyway, so he and I are eating breakfast, which is to say, I'm guzzling coffee and he's eating raspberries and cheerios. Emily comes downstairs, and she looks at Jack, says Hi, and then: "Jack....what was the matter this morning? What was the problem?"

Jack looks at her, still shoveling in raspberries. He pauses, then raises a fist in the air.

Jack: "Red Sox win!"

Excitement

Jack burst into the door this afternoon. "Daddy, LOOK!" He was waving a piece of black construction paper that had little jack-0-lanterns and other Halloween stuff glued onto it. "Look at THIS. It's a pumpkin....and a pumpkin....and a ghost. And a pumpkin!" I said, Wow, Jack, did you make this? "YEAH!" Well, it's great, I said.

Later, I asked him if he wanted to put it on the fridge. Silence. Fridgerator? "Oh! YEAH!" He grabbed it and ran off to the kitchen. We put it on, and he took the magnets off of everything else on the fridge to use all 20 or so of them to hold it up. He's thorough.

The Cherry Man

I'm too tired to remember all of the funny things involving Jack in the last few weeks. What's great is that he actually makes jokes -- says and does things that he knows are funny. And he merges different things and comments and so that he'll be telling a story that gets funnier because he's mixing something we talked about earlier with something we read in a book with a Backyardigans episode.

So the one I'll remember for now is just that there was this big construction site truck with a crane on top of it and a basket at the end of the crane for a guy to stand in. And I would have had no idea what to call the thing, obviously, except Jack has a book with a picture of a construction site, and they call that truck a "Cherry Picker." So I told Jack that, and he repeats it. "Cherry picker."

The next day we're at his school, day care, and I'm dropping him off. Out the windows, across the street, there's all this construction going on. And what do we see? Of course: a cherry picker. Jack runs to the window, as does this other kid, Teddy, and they stand on little chairs to look out. And Jack says, "What is the cherry man doing?" And the crane start going up higher into the sky. And Jack's all, "Oh! Look!" (He kind of says "yook," which is very cute.) "The cherry man is going up into the sky!" And then: "Yeah! He's going WAYYYYYYYY up there." Finally I left, while they were still marveling at the cherry picker.

I guess I've got one more story, which is that I picked him up the next afternoon, and it was a gray day, so they were inside (normally they're in the playground if it's nice). I walk into the room and I see him over at this little low table, kind of leaning over it, talking to other kids. Funny; it was like he was in high school or something. Anyway, he sees me out of the corner of his eye or something, and runs over -- he has a little, it looks like part of a book in his hand. There are pictures on it of various insects, spiders, frogs, that kind of thing. "Daddy, look!" he says. "A spider! And a, a....what's this thing?" I say, that's a beetle, Jack. And he says, "Oh! A beetle!" And then he points at another one: "And what's that?" That's a bee, I say. And he says, "Oh! A BEE! And he will STING me! Don't sting me, bee!"

Just something about Jack easily transitioning from talking to other kids to talking with me to talking with a picture of a bee. It's good stuff.

Halloween Song

Jack has a new song about the upcoming holiday, one that he made up himself and sang several times today. It features his basic understanding of the holiday, as well as impressions from the decorations on our neighbor's lawn. It varies with each telling, but goes something like this:

Halloween
Halloween
And I go trick or treating and get candy
and the Pumpkin snowman
and the goats* in the truck
and I get Murdoch (a Thomas train he's been on about lately) and go trick or treating
Halloween
With Mommy Daddy and Jack and Kate
And the Tigger and Santa and pumpkin snowman on the lawn
and the very big spider spinning her web
Halloween

* (He means "ghosts.")

Something like that, anyway.

New Kid in Town

Haven't blogged in a while, largely because I'm exhausted, or don't have the time, or am too tired to find the time, one of those. But a lot's been happening and I'll try to recap....

We have a new baby, a girl named Kate, who's exactly three weeks old as I write this. Pretty cool, and I'm going to have to write about her at some point being as I've been changing some of her diapers, too. For the most part, though, she's been attached to her Mommy by, as an old codger in Fletch might say, one of those two protuberances about grab height. Anyway.

We kind of expected this to be a little tough on Jack, and it is. Mostly in subtle ways. He hasn't thrown tantrums about her, or been angry or jealous of her, at least not outwardly. He likes her, actually, wanting to hold her -- he looks so proud when he's sitting on the couch with his arms out and hands upturned and we place her in his arms. He's awkward about it, but also kind of beaming. When she cries or wails, he's all "What's the matter, baby?" And, "It's okay baby! Don't cry. What's the matter, baby?" So sweet. And he's already taken to including her when he goes around naming us all and pointing: "Mommy....Daddy....Kate...and JACK!" with a big point to himself.

It's the little things. Him getting more upset over minor stuff, partly because I think he's tense, partly because he's not getting as much sleep (which might have something to do with Kate -- as I write this, he's only napped at home ONCE since Kate came home), partly because of this new kid in town...a combination I'd guess. He wants Mommy to come kiss him goodnight, for the second or third time, and Mommy can't, because she's feeding Kate. Or he keeps getting out of his bed, wanting more stories, or whatever, but it's late and Daddy is starting to get upset, because jeez, Jack, you've got to sleep, and you'll just be even crankier tomorrow. And of course it gets worse, not better, because we all get less sleep and then he doesn't want to eat as much ("I'm tired....I'm sleepy, Daddy"), some of which is because he actually is tired and some of which is just an excuse to avoid doing something he doesn't want to do. And the result is we're more frustrated and more tired and he's more upset and.....yeah.

There was a stretch of bad days, and then a good one, and I think today was okay. Tuesday, Emily's birthday, was a little of both. He was whiny in the morning, and didn't want to go to school, and woke up early, and all that. Then in the afternoon I picked him up at school, and he was playing with trains, and was happy. I went over and he gave me a train, and he said, I don't think this one has a name. And I said, well, maybe he has a name...let me see. And I checked the bottom, and I saw his name was Murdoch. So I said to Jack, see, he has a name, it's Murdoch. Jack looked down and smiled at the train. "Murdoch," he said, with a certain satisfaction. "Oh! His name is Murdoch, Daddy." That's right, Jack.

And then we went home, and the guy next door is apparently having his paved driveway extended over half of his lawn, I have no idea why. But there was a big digger truck there, and Jack was pretty excited. And then his cousins showed up for Emily's party, and Jack was happy, and said, "Look at the BIG DIGGER." And jumped up and down.

On the downside, the evening ended badly, partly because the playing doesn't always go great with the girls, a combination of him being a so-so sharer and them being older or whatever, and partly because he was so tired. But ultimately we did go upstairs, and had his bath, and read a story, and when we lay down he fell asleep fairly quickly, his arm tight around my neck. Took me 5 minutes to extricate myself and leave the room.

Basically it's just tough. Emily told me she talked to him once about his feelings during one of his little breakdowns. She said, "It's all very strange and different, isn't it?" And Jack, in tears, said, "Yahhhsss!" which was part sob and part shout. And it is, for all of us, but especially for him, because of course he didn't know this change was coming, no matter how much we tried to explain it.

But we're going to get through it, starting with getting a little more sleep. Right now.

Surgery, Part II

Leading up to Jack's surgery, we stressed a lot, worried about worst case scenarios, heard stories about how scary it is when your child gets anesthesia, all that. We gave Jack ice cream and gummi bears and all that, and told him that a doctor was going to fix his owies. Meanwhile, Emily was worried she was going to go into labor the night before or day of. I had images of Father of the Bride, either 1 or 2, I don't know which, where Steve Martin is running back and forth from his wife's room to his daughter's. Probably it was 2. Anyway.

We slept badly, then got up and entertained Jack until we had to go to the hospital. We had to be there at 8:30 a.m. The morning had a feel of wanting it to be over with, so we kind of just got ready and went, early, and were there. Paperwork, admitting, and then into a room. Jack wasn't crazy about it. Not surprisingly. We had to get him out of his clothes and into these little flimsy pajamas, which we later learned we put the top on backwards (with the ties in front), and they said, well, they'll come get you at 9:30. And then we sat on his bed and watched TV, and tried to act like we weren't worried.

They finally came around 10. I carried Jack, Emily walked beside us. Then we got to the operating room area and they let me and Jack go through the door and Emily went off to the waiting room. A tough goodbye. Jack and I were directed to a chair sort of in a hallway just off the operating room. The anesthesiologist who looked a lot like Jerry Seinfeld came out, asked us questions, I might have signed a form or something, so on and so forth. Seinfeld left and we sat there for another 10 minutes. Jack: "I want to go." Me: "Well, we can't, yet."

They came to get us and we walked into the operating room. Lots of big lights and equipment extending from the ceiling. Very X-Files-ish. Seinfeld was there and he told me to put Jack on the table. Jack was great, just lay there, trusting. Seinfeld commented on it. I held Jack's hand and they put the mask over his face and counted, and in less than a minute he was asleep. It wasn't as scary as I'd been told, actually. And they said, OK, he's great, you should leave now. And so I did.

Emily and I waited in this little room. Bad coffee. Bad TV. Bad magazines. Comfortable chair I guess.

About 45 minutes later, Dr. Peter walked through the door. He was only halfway in the door as he was saying, "Jack's doing fine!" Love Dr. Peter. Thank you for not being all, "Hi there, how are you doing? Emily, how's the pregnancy...."

We went into the post-operative (I guess) room to see him. It was big, with lots of beds -- really, it looked like something right out of MASH. Kind of scary, actually. Jack was in a nurse's lap in a chair (rocking chair? can't remember), kind of curled up. His back to us. Mostly hidden. He was awake but really out of it. We had been warned the anesthesia was very disorienting and stuff, but still. Scary. We both touched him, held his hand, talked to him. He was kind of like, "Mommy...ahhhhhnnn....Daddy....." Kind of not making a lot of sense. First Mommy held him, then me. They had me sit in a wheelchair with Jack on my lap, and then they wheeled us out of the room. We had to sit there for a good 5 minutes, with Jack moaning, while they filled out some kind of paperwork or whatever. I'm sure it was important, but geez, we didn't have to sign anything, get us out of there, please. So they wheeled us out of the room eventually, and all the way back to his room, where we'd started out.

We put Jack carefully on his bed. He wanted us with him. We all kind of squeezed onto the little single hospital bed together. Not easy. Plus he had the IV in, and various bandages and such, so we're trying to lie there without hurting him in some way. They needed to keep him there for a couple of hours after the surgery, to make sure he was OK. I think we watched some TV, and as he gradually became less disoriented and plaintive, we gradually calmed down and relaxed. He was OK, it was OK. And it was going to all be over.

And then they offered popsicles, and Jack -- starting to be himself again -- said, "A red one." And then: "TWO popsicles." And everything was fine.

Grandma and Jack

OK, we've got a new baby, her name is Kate, and she's fantastic. And I still need to write about Jack's surgery, Part II. But this was too good not to write down.

With the baby, Emily's been in the hospital and I've been there a lot the last two days. Jack has, understandably, been off his routine....Grandma got him up yesterday morning and put him to bed last night, he went to Temple with the Rosenfelds on Thursday (while we were, you know, having our baby), and Grandma put him to bed last night. He woke up early this morning, he's a little off his game, missed his nap, we took two trips to the hospital, etc. Busy day.

So Grandma brought him home tonight and gave him dinner and put him to bed. Here's how it went, according to Grandma.

"We got home and I made him a hotdog and some macaroni ('What's that?' he said, so I called it pasta, and it was fine). And he also wanted applesauce. I said, you have to eat two hotdog pieces and two pastas. So he ate the two bites of hotdog, and a pasta, and said, 'Now can I have my applesauce?' and I said, did you have two pastas? and he said, no, I only had one. And I said, well. So he ate it, and I gave him his applesauce, and he ate it all and then he ate down his entire hotdog and pastas, and then he sat back and said, 'Holy Cow, I ate my whole dinner!'

"And then he sat back in his chair and said, Grandma, I'm sleepy. So, I took him right upstairs, and decided not to do the bath. And I was getting him changed in his room, telling him he's not going to have a bath, and he said, 'Do I get pajamas?' And I said of course. And then I was washing him off a little with just his diaper on, and he said, 'Do I get a new diaper?' and I said of course, and got him his new diaper and pajamas. And then as I was doing that, he wanted to sit on the potty. And he sat down, and then after a minute he said, 'Grandma. I'm very sleepy.'

"So we went into the bedroom and he was all ready for bed, and he said, 'No stories. Just songs.' So I started doing songs, and he was tired and falling asleep, so I was going to leave, and he put his arm around me and said, 'Don't leave yet.' And we were lying there, and the doorbell rang. (It was flowers from Robin, thanks Robin! And Mom and Dad yours came too, thanks!) And I said, well, I have to get that. And Jack said, 'I'll wait for you.'

"And when I went back upstairs five minutes later, he was fast asleep."

Surgery (Part I)

Last Tuesday was kind of a typical day with Jack. His school was closed all week, so we went to the beach in the morning. Emily and I had been going back and forth on whether we should see a doctor for what appeared to be an allergic reaction/rash he had. It showed up occasionally....didn't bother him, but it was noticeable. We thought it might be his sunblock, or strawberries, or prickly heat...whatever. Anyway, at the beach that morning it seemed worse, so I made an appointment for that afternoon.

We went to the doctor, and while she was checking him all over, she noticed a swelling in the groin area. She thought it was a hernia, but wanted him to see another doctor to be sure. She kind of shrugged off the allergies ("Keep a food diary," she suggested, "Or try Benadryl if it itches") which was just as well, since I'd totally forgotten about it too. Especially when she said if it WAS a hernia, he'd need surgery. All righty then.

We drove home, and I was kind of teary. My son needs surgery. Pretty scary. I was torn between regretting the visit which had dumped this in our lap and feeling lucky that we'd found out this way, and not -- as the doctor had said -- him waking up crying and in pain, which might have happened down the road. He, of course, was acting perfectly normal, wanting to play with the trains in the doctor's office, smiling and laughing during the examination, etc.

She had said she hoped the doctor would be able to see us to confirm her diagnosis by next week. By some weird coincidence, the doctor she recommended, one of the leading pediatric surgeons in Westchester County, turned out to be our brother in law's Dad's...well, kind of confusing, but he was Ian's Dad's cousin's husband. Or something like that. And he'd had Thanksgiving dinner with us. As a result, we were able to see him the next day, and yup, it was a hernia. Surgery scheduled for the following Tuesday. This office visit, Jack's second in two days, wasn't as much fun for him. Although he enjoyed playing with the toys (a little kitchen, some trucks, so on and so forth), he was a little wary of the doctor, who he didn't remember, of course, and the whole place was unfamiliar. Plus it was his naptime.

Anyhoo, we drove home, and that night Jack got ice cream, gummi bears, pretty much whatever he wanted.

There were some tears (ours, not his).

There were the various explanations to friends and family members (turns out it's the most common surgery performed on children, and even Emily's boss's daughter had had it done, by our surgeon, too!).

And on Saturday afternoon we went over to the neighbor's and Jack played with their son Max, and we told them everything, and we watched the kids play. And it was nice, you know, because it felt like the kind of thing that Jack should be doing -- not sitting around our house while we fretted and worried about him, worried about him suddenly saying his groin hurt or something.

And that's when we really worried about him having surgery. Because everything was supposed to be fine, but all I could think about was what if it wasn't.

So the next few days we basically spoiled him rotten.

To be continued.

Jackisms

Jack had surgery recently, but I'm going to blog about that another time. Some cute stuff to get to first....I'll call them Jackisms.

(After going to see boats with Grandpa) "I never seen a lot and lot of boats...I never seen so many boats!" (Holds both hands out for emphasis)

(The next morning after his surgery) "Some of them had masks....kind of scary." (Presumably talking about the doctors.)

(Also) "I'm going to call the people at the hospital who fixed me, because they found my bears." (Jack had been given a couple of little stuffed bears wearing 'Greenwich Hospital' t-shirts. Somehow, they'd been left in the room. I went back to the hospital later that night, after Jack had gone to bed, to get them.) "I'm going to give them to my sister. They're babies too."

(Told to me) "You have a bandaid. I have TWO bandaids. A big one and a small one." (Talking to mommy. OK, maybe everything he says isn't fascinating to everyone.)

(Jack asks about dessert.) Me: "What did you have in mind?" Jack: "Um...(smiles)...Green stuff?" (Lime sherbet.) "OK, Jack, I think we have that. And maybe there's a special treat, too." Jack's eyes get wide. "Do you know what?" Jack: "Um....gummi bears?" "That's RIGHT." Jack, like his Daddy, loves gummi bears.

"Help, the monster's coming!" (Laughter.) "Monster coming!!!!" (Runs across room, hides in corner.) Me (or mommy) "I'm not a monster, I'm your Daddy (or mommy)!" Not sure where this came from, but at some point Jack decided it was quite hilarious, if one of us was coming to put him to bed, or change his diaper, or whatever, to say "The monster's coming!" or "Monster coming!" It really is pretty funny.

Jack noticing Mommy's pregnant belly at the breakfast table. Big smile: "It looks almost like a ball!"

Jack has a Spider-man pop-up book (actually it's mine, but you know). Each page has little inserts that you can pull out and they have information about Spider-man, his friends, his foes. Jack's favorite part of the book is finding them and pulling them out. "This also gets out," he says. And then: "This ALSO gets out...." (Smile.) "This also gets out....."

Me reading a new book to him today, where the little yellow dog finds out that what he hoped was a big bone is actually a skateboard. "Phooey!" says the dog. This is apparently the funniest word Jack has ever heard. He cracks up. I say it again. Screams of laughter. And again. After a few more times, Jack, gasping with laughter: "Don't say it again!"

OK, tomorrow or the next day I'll write about the surgery.