Romeo Frog

I've been somewhat of an ass about things the past couple of days and needed to do something to make my wife smile. While picking up Nates toys, I found this and had a thought to make this video. I showed it to her. It did make her smile. So, if you're in the dog house, try sharing Romeo Frog. Let me know how it works out.

Precious Little Villains

Children are precious little villains intent on stealing every private adult moment you dare. The bathroom is now a communal place. (The dog even comes in to see what all the fuss is about). Leisure reading is now out loud with an AA, BB, A, B, A, B rhyme scheme three minutes long before the hooligans bed time. Watching a tv show that doesn't have puppets, or animation or coy songs and people with perpetual sun-shine smiles during the thief's waking hours does not happen. Just try, try to sit and sip a cup of coffee quietly any time after 6:30 am and you risk a frustrated morning.

Of course, parents are complicate victims, myself included. Though, I've developed a semi-effective wicked evil eye, "Don't you
touch that!" And, counting to three with a two an half, three quarters , seven eighths, along the way, before it's "...three. That's it. Time out."

Though, that doesn't always work out so well because the second stair becomes a bully pulpit of screaming, a soap box of misery, a wailing wall of injustice and despair that makes me think, "Good God.  Maybe I should have just let him play with the butchers knife. Holly Fuck! Stop it all ready! You'll cut your finger off and really have something to cry about!"

Of course, I can't say that. Though once or twice something like that might have slipped. No, no. Instead, we have to crouch low, below his eye level so he doesn't feel intimidated, put on a consoling voice as though speaking to the bereaved disciple of savior murdered, and say.

"Now calm down. Calm down. Your two minutes are up.
Why are you in time out?"

And there's the blank look of total bewilderment and innocence, genuine tears and all. Or, there's the look of joyous, defiant hatred and irrational stubbornness inherited from I don't know who.

"Come on now. You were playing with a knife. We don't play with knives do we?" (Mote I'm speaking in plural now.)

Silence.

"No touching daddy's knives. Right?"

Silence.

"Come on. Look me in the eye." I say and bend myself around to put my face in front of his which is now looking anywhere but toward me. If the defiance is gone, or there is a true lack of memory of cause for the consequence, or, if he understands, I ask "Ok?"

Silence.

"Just say OK, ok?"

"Ok Daddy." He says and goes about his merry way plotting his next criminal endeavor of assassinating my privacy. Though, lately, his OK sometimes conveys a bemused exasperation and subtext of "Sure pal. I'll play your game because you are way bigger than me. But when you aren't looking I'm going right back over to that light socket and lick it."

This, of course, makes me snicker as I go back to whatever hallucination of un-interrupted adult activity I might be having at the moment such as changing a light bulb, polishing my shoes, eating a cookie before desert time. It doesn't matter. If he's awake, my little gangster is sure to steal the moment through direct engagement or putting his life at risk or some other child's antic.

Even so, all in all, I can say, as most parents will agree, I hope, Though he steals all my private adult moments,  he's my precious little villain and I would cut your throat or my own, if that's what it took to keep him safe.

Where did that come from?

After I finished stoking the fire in the family room - I was right in the middle of cooking dinner - I turned and found Nate standing in front of me.  He held up his hand as though pleading with the gods to say something profound. No words came. On his middle finger there was a dollop of something black. I knew what it was but had to ask. "Where did that come from? Your butt?"

"Yes." He said as a matter of fact with a hint of glee.

"Great. Ok. Go to the potty. Don't touch anything."

Simultaneously, the steak in the frying pan threatened to burn, pasta water boiled and the oven started beeping at me. "Careful. No touch. That's yucky. Let me clean that. Just stand there. Ok, pants down. On the toilet. There you go. Go potty."

"No go potty, Daddy."

"To bad. Sit there. Try."

"Daddy!"

"Wait. I gotta turn off the stove. Hold on."

"No potty!"

"Try." I said and rushed out to quell the riot in the kitchen.

"All done Daddy." He yelled from the bathroom."Daddy? DAAADDDYYYY! ALL DONE!"

"Okay, okay. I'm back. Let's see."

"All done daddy."

"Nope. Nothing in the potty Nate." I said as I lifted him off the toilet and looked for the evidence. "Oh, yuck." I said as I noticed he had poop hanging like nasty black frosting out of his bottom and half way up his back. "That's gross dude."

"I poop Dad."

"Yeah, I see." Bend over. Hands on the ground. That's it. Butt up like a turtle."

"Ok daddy."

"Hold still. Let me get a wipe."

"All clean Daddy."

"No. Not yet. Phew."

"All clean Daddy."

"No. Hold on. Stay down. Butt up. Couple more wipes."

"All clean daddy."

"Yeah, ok. One more. There you go."

"Cars? Cars? Cars?"

"Yes. Cars." I helped him into his pull-ups which have characters from the movie Cars on it.

"Yay! Cars!" He screamed.

"We're gonna try to use the potty before pooping in your pants. Right?"

"Ok Daddy." He said with the sweetest lying sincerity of a seasoned politician. I smirked doubtful of his intent. Pleased with placating me and having a clean diaper he monkey walked away with a teetter-totter joy, leaving me to clean the toilet seat.

Moddy

Sometimes Nate gets confused about who is talking to. Mommy? Daddy? And, so, has taken to calling us Moddy.

Moddy milk.
Moddy blanky.
Moddy Tv.
Moddy pee pee.
Moddy ruff owie.
Bye bye Moddy.
Moddy work now.
Moddy home!

Define the word guess for a two year old

While getting Nate ready for bed, I told him, "Guess who is coming over."  His Aunt is on her way with Barb.  They went shopping after work at her companies warehouse sale.

"Guess?" He asked.

"Yes, guess."

"Guess" he asked again.

At that moment I realized I have no idea how to explain the word "guess" to a two year old. "Hmm. I'm not sure how to put it in terms you will understand." I said as we finished getting into P.J.'s, well Nate finished getting into P.J.'s.

Now that he's settled into his evening TV show with a sippy cup of milk, I looked up the formal definition and it's not much help.

   
Guess: Estimate or suppose (something) without sufficient information to be sure of being correct.

I'm still clueless about how to translate that word into terms he could understand.

Anyone got a suggestion?

Time Out Alternative - 800 White Lie

Nate wanted to go see if the neighbor boy was home. "I see Ocklan."

"No, we can't go see Lochlan. I have to make dinner."

"I see Ocklan."

"No, Nate." I tried to reason with him, but he wasn't having it. He started to pout and cry and carry on  with a big long face like stretched taffy complete with crocodile tears. I did not feel like giving him a time out. Instead, I dialed 800-white-lie and asked the silence if Lochlan could come out to play. 

The silence told me, "He would love to, but he has gone to the moon."

"Oh, okay." I said and hung up. "Sorry Nate. Lochlan isn't home. He has gone to the moon for the evening."

"Oh, Ocklan no home?"

"No. Sorry."

"Oh. Ok. Melk?"

"Milk?"

"Yes, melk."

"What do you say?"

"Peese."

"Ok." I said and gave him a sippy cup of milk.

I busy!

My wife and are both workaholics. We  constantly check emails, Facebook, work docs, etc.  A typical day starts by waking up, bathroom, start the coffee, check email, Facebook, Nate gets up, sippy cup with milk, Sprout TV, email, some conversation, email, get ready for work, pack Nates lunch, email, she goes off to work, I take Nate to daycare, then back home to work all day which, of course, includes email, Facebook, phone calls, until 5pm when I pick Nate up, email, make dinner, email, Nate runs around and watches tv, plays with toys, email, wash dishes, Barb comes home and eats her dinner, email, Facebook, Nates bath, email, Nates bed time, book, song, email, Facebook, tv, email, Facebook, bed and the cycle starts over.  Through this Nate often wants our attention for a minute. Some times we say, "In a minute Nate, I'm busy at the moment."  Then, we do attend to him, but apparently he hears that phrase often.  The other day he start using it. "Nate, it's dinner time."

"I busy!"

"What?

"I busy!" He said while smashing his toy truck into the toy kitchen set. This of course made us laugh. I suppose this should be a red flag of not spending enough quality time with him. Or, as I prefer to think of it, he's learning a strong work ethic which is much better than a parent that dotes on his childs every whim. Of course, I could be wrong. I often am.

Either way, this has become a regular occurrence. At least once a day he says it. Sometimes it's cute. Sometimes it's not. Yesterday, while unpacking groceries, I asked him to pick up the bags I tossed on the floor. I like to un-bag everything onto the counters in loosely organized groups so I can see whats what and where to put it away. I find this saves time vs opening the refrigerator twenty times.

"Nate, can you pick up the bags?"

"I busy!" he said driving his toy dump truck over the bags.

"Yeah, I think you are busy picking up bags."

"No. I busy." He said trying to make an escape.

"One. Two..."

"I busy!" He said again as he dismounted his dump truck, picked up the bags and threw them in the trash.

"Thanks." I said patting his head.

He mounted his ride and drove into the living room.

Later, when we were making a fire together, Barb called him over for a hug. She though it was just too cute that a two and half year old was helping build a fire.

"I busy! I help daddy." He said and went to get another piece of wood for the fire. She sighed the sigh of mother sad her child is growing up to fast and took a photo. I'm she'll email and Facebook it later.

Boo Boo Butterflies

Nate and I sat on the sofa earlier. He wanted the "TV on. On. On."

I confess. I let him watch a lot of Sprout TV, as it does have some educational value. But, I was done with the morning work so had turned it off to spend deliberate time with him.  I though he might like to build something with his toy blocks, but no.  Instead he found some butterfly stickers in his mountain of toys in the corner near the sliding door. He brought them over and proceed to stick them on me, the dog and himself. He climbed on the sofa and stuck some butterflies on his naked feet.

"Do you want some socks?  It's a little chilly this morning."

"No. Boo, boo." He said and stuck another sticker on his foot.

"There's no boo, boo.  It's a butterfly."

"No. Boo, boo." He insisted as he peeled off another sticker, "One. Two. Free."

"Four, five, six." I said counting off the remaining stickers.

"Boo, boo." He said finishing off the job.  His feet were polka-dotted with butterfly stickers.

"Ok. If you say so. Butterfly boos boos. Go show mom."

"Ok", he said and handed me the empty sheet of stickers and scampered away proud of his achievement.

Purple Green Banana Truck

On the way to daycare Nate asked for a new song about a monkey and truck. So, I made this one up as I don't know of any other songs about a monkey driving a truck.

Once there was a monkey
who drove a banana truck
'round and 'round the zoo.

It was a purple and green 
and made everyone scream,

"Monkey! Give us bananas!"

"No"  he would say,
"You forgot the magic word.
Plus, you are rude."

And, off he'd drive his banana
truck 'round and 'round the zoo
Until they asked politely.

"Please Mr Monkey, can we have bananas?

"Yes. You said the magic word."

And out would fly purple green
bananas, bananas, bananas!
Until everyone ate their fill.

"Thank you Mr Monkey. Thank You."

"You are welcome", he'd say

And off he'd drive his banana
truck 'round and 'round the zoo.

Honky Donkey Monkey Tonky

Often, I make up songs while driving Nate to daycare, or wherever.  Some turn out all right.  Here's the most recent one.

Honky Tonky donkey
Don't mess with the Monkey
Or the Monkey's gonna step on you.
Rugh! Rugh! Rugh! (Make sound like angry Gorilla)

Honky Tonky Monkey
Don't step on the Donkey
Or the Donkey's gonna kick you
Hee Haw, Hee Haw, Hee Haw

Monkey Donkey Tonky
Don't mess with the Honky
Or the Honky's gonna tonky you.
Tonk, Tonk, Tonk

Fucko - A definition - It's not what think

It's not what you think.

We were watching ET with Nate. ET had died, and come back to life. Elliot and the other boys had stolen the ambulance, ditched it for their bikes and were being chased by police cars and fire trucks. "Trucks!" Nate pointed out to us. "Trucks!" He loves trucks.

"Yes, trucks. But, shh. Watch." He hushed and starred memorized b

y ET and the boys on their BMX bikes. They zigzagged this way and that, dodging the police at every turn. Then, when they thought they escaped and could take ET home, men on foot burst in behind them, snatching at their shirts and hoodies, just missing them. Police cars and trucks closed all exits. The gig was up. Escape impossible. Officers, with guns at the ready, closed in.

"Oh, no trucks!" Nate yelled.

"Watch." We said, and just then, ET's great big glowing heart caused the boys on their bikes to fly over the blockade and escape. "Look, Nate, they're flying!"

Excited, and jamming his words together, Nate yelled, "Fucko!"

"What?" Barb and I asked shocked.

"Da Fucko!" Nate yelled again and pointed to ET and the boys as they flew past the men with guns, over the street lights, up past the setting sun and into the woods.

See, I told you. "Fucko" does not mean what you think. It means, according to Nate: Flying past trucks on your bicycle with an alien in your basket.

No want it - Ook Dino-soar

So, my little darling, in all his glorious 2 and half year old bi-polar mind, screamed a hissy-fit about wearing a new shirt we bought him yesterday. "No want it. No want it!"

As I ignored his lament and wrestled with him into it, I said, "Here is the deal pal. When you can dress yourself, you can choose your own shirt. Until then, you are going to wear what I pick out, so pipe down and put your arm in the sleeve." Oddly, he did. Ten minutes later when we got to school he marched up to his pre-school teach and proudly displayed his new shirt. "Ook. Dine-soar." He said showing her his nice new shirt with a big green dinosaur on it."

"Oh, how nice." She said.

"Isn't that way." I snickered as I left and thought. "Yup. Daddy's right again."

Daddy Myth #1

I asked Nate to stay in the eye sight while I went inside to get the chicken for the barbeque. He was in the yard and just outside the window. In the one minute it took to walk inside, grab the bowl of marinating chicken and walk back outside he disappeared.

"Shit." I said as the heart started it's panic. We live in a very quiet neighborhood with plenty of space between the houses and little to no traffic except the neighbors. I wasn't much worried about an abduction, just the danger of two year old on the loose. As I set the chicken down I bumped against the patio table and triggered the panic button on the car key in my pocket. From the front of the house the car started wailing. I assumed Nate had gone around the other side of the house toward the front and so I went the other way to head him off. As I ran I pressed the off button, rounded the corner and discovered Nate had gone my way.

"There you are." He stood petrified in his tracks. He's never heard the car alarm before. He was terrified. Well, more shocked and a little scared.

"Daddy?" He asked wide eyed, lip ready to tremble. I thought to console him, but it was to good an opportunity to build the all knowing, all seeing daddy myth.

I said in gentle and sympathetic but cautionary daddy voice. "Yeah. I know. It's loud and scary. But, the car knows. Yeah. Remember, I asked you to stay in eye sight and you wandered off. The car was just letting me know you wandered away." He looked at me with total belief and bewilderment. His eyes said, "Holy crap. This guy is spooky good. He's got eyes everywhere. Not just in the back of his head. Dang. I better watch my step."

"Yes." I said confirming his belief by nodding my head.

"I go in-house." He asked with resignation to his new reality.

"Sure. We can go inside."

"Ok". He said and stretch up his arms so I could carry him. I did.

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