Sunday, October 25, 2009
Fall!
My favorite time, by far, is October 1 - January 2. Cooler temperatures, football, falling leaves, pumpkins, Halloween, our Leaf Party, Thanksgiving, even cooler temperatures, Christmas, etc. The list goes on and on.
Today, after church, Jude, John Patrick and I went to the Farmers' Market, near the Bicentennial Mall, to pick up some pumpkins for Halloween. John Patrick loved crawling around the pumpkins, trying to lift them up and climbing on and off the pallets where the pumpkins sat.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Dirt Dog
This afternoon, before his nap, Jude went outside with John Patrick to play in the leaves. As you can see, he was more interested in playing in the dirt.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Balancing Act
Jude's out of town, in D.C., this week, so I've been flying solo with John Patrick the past three nights. Today, I got tied up in a case I was mediating and couldn't get away from the office until almost 6 p.m. I had arranged for our nanny, Carley, to meet me in Cool Springs at 5:30 p.m., so John Patrick could get his haircut. Needless to say, I missed the haircut appointment. By the time I arrived, Carley and her husband, Jon, were walking on the sidewalk with John Patrick, whose hair was freshly cut. I felt terrible.
John Patrick and I drove home together. I handed him my Blackberry and glancing over my shoulder, couldn't help but laugh as he stared intently at it, like he was trying to figure out how to make a call. It was dark and as he pressed the buttons on the Blackberry, it lit up, illuminating his face as he smiled contentedly, oblivious to everything around him. It was one of those moments that stays with you.
After we arrived home, I put John Patrick in his high chair and began to feed him dinner. He had eaten some black beans and a couple of mouthfuls of turkey and macaroni when, suddenly, he looked right at me and vomited all over the high chair tray and the front of his shirt. Game on. Carefully, I lifted him out of the high chair, undressed him and began to clean up the mess. I turned around just in time to see him pick up a piece of macaroni off the footrest of his high chair and eat it for the second time, if you know what I mean. Game over.
I lifted John Patrick up, took him upstairs, and gave him a bath. After his bath, we went into the kitchen to finish cleaning up. When I knocked a plate off the counter and watched it shatter on the floor, I gave up. He and I came into the den, read books and played, while he munched on some cheese crumbles and strawberries. Later, I took him to bed.
What a night.
John Patrick and I drove home together. I handed him my Blackberry and glancing over my shoulder, couldn't help but laugh as he stared intently at it, like he was trying to figure out how to make a call. It was dark and as he pressed the buttons on the Blackberry, it lit up, illuminating his face as he smiled contentedly, oblivious to everything around him. It was one of those moments that stays with you.
After we arrived home, I put John Patrick in his high chair and began to feed him dinner. He had eaten some black beans and a couple of mouthfuls of turkey and macaroni when, suddenly, he looked right at me and vomited all over the high chair tray and the front of his shirt. Game on. Carefully, I lifted him out of the high chair, undressed him and began to clean up the mess. I turned around just in time to see him pick up a piece of macaroni off the footrest of his high chair and eat it for the second time, if you know what I mean. Game over.
I lifted John Patrick up, took him upstairs, and gave him a bath. After his bath, we went into the kitchen to finish cleaning up. When I knocked a plate off the counter and watched it shatter on the floor, I gave up. He and I came into the den, read books and played, while he munched on some cheese crumbles and strawberries. Later, I took him to bed.
What a night.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Animal Farm
Overnight, or so it seems, John Patrick has vastly expanded his repertoire of animal sounds. Up until a week or so ago, when asked what sound a cow makes, he would reply "mmmmmmmm." Not "moo," mind you, but "mmmmmmmm." With some prompting from his nanny, Carley, he began to tell us that a cat says "mmmmaaaa." Not, "meow," but "mmmmaaaa." That was about it, though, as far as animal sounds go.
Then, one night when I was changing his diaper and getting him ready for bed, I started singing one my made up songs to him. I changed the lyrics and began asking him, for example, "what does a cow say," etc. To my surprise, not only did he have sounds for cow and monkey, but for snake ("heh"), mouse ("ee ee"), lion (a quick, deep throated growl that I can't begin to spell), monkey (high pitched, "aaaa aaaa"), horse (a giggle, with his mouth closed, that's sounds remarkably like a horse), elephant (a high pitched whine, starting low and finishing high), owl (almost indistinguishable from the monkey sound) and sheep ("baaaaaaa").
It's really, really amazing to watch John Patrick pick up knew things almost on a daily basis, right before our very eyes. We never get tired of hearing him make the animal sounds. It brings a smile to our eyes every time he does it.
Then, one night when I was changing his diaper and getting him ready for bed, I started singing one my made up songs to him. I changed the lyrics and began asking him, for example, "what does a cow say," etc. To my surprise, not only did he have sounds for cow and monkey, but for snake ("heh"), mouse ("ee ee"), lion (a quick, deep throated growl that I can't begin to spell), monkey (high pitched, "aaaa aaaa"), horse (a giggle, with his mouth closed, that's sounds remarkably like a horse), elephant (a high pitched whine, starting low and finishing high), owl (almost indistinguishable from the monkey sound) and sheep ("baaaaaaa").
It's really, really amazing to watch John Patrick pick up knew things almost on a daily basis, right before our very eyes. We never get tired of hearing him make the animal sounds. It brings a smile to our eyes every time he does it.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Ooooooooooohhh Johnny!
In all my life, I've never heard a happier sound than my son laughing. The harder he laughs, the happier it makes me. I can't help but laugh, when he laughs, especially when he really gets tickled and laughs loudly.
An observation I've made in the past, I think, is that from day to day, I never know what is going to make John Patrick laugh. In other words, I may do, say or sing something one day and he'll find it uproariously funny. Then, the next day, I do the same thing and all I hear are crickets. Nothing but silence and maybe a look from him that says, "Daddy, that was funny yesterday, not today."
Last night, Jude and I were still sitting at the dining room table, after dinner, while John Patrick ran in and out of the dining room, playing. For no real reason, I looked at him and said, loudly, "oooooooooooooooh, Johnny!" No sooner were the words out of my mouth than he started laughing and making the "more" sign with his hands. Again, I said, "oooooooooooooooh, Johnny!" and he laughed even louder. I kept saying it and, each time, he laughed harder and louder, finishing with a squeal. It was hilarious. Each time he started laughing, Jude and I laughed, right along with him.
Tonight, I tried it again. He laughed a little bit, but nothing like last night. By tomorrow, I'm sure, I'll need to come up with something else to make him laugh. I think I'm up for the challenge. When I think about it, if I can make my son laugh at some point every day, then I've got a lot of pretty good days ahead of me.
An observation I've made in the past, I think, is that from day to day, I never know what is going to make John Patrick laugh. In other words, I may do, say or sing something one day and he'll find it uproariously funny. Then, the next day, I do the same thing and all I hear are crickets. Nothing but silence and maybe a look from him that says, "Daddy, that was funny yesterday, not today."
Last night, Jude and I were still sitting at the dining room table, after dinner, while John Patrick ran in and out of the dining room, playing. For no real reason, I looked at him and said, loudly, "oooooooooooooooh, Johnny!" No sooner were the words out of my mouth than he started laughing and making the "more" sign with his hands. Again, I said, "oooooooooooooooh, Johnny!" and he laughed even louder. I kept saying it and, each time, he laughed harder and louder, finishing with a squeal. It was hilarious. Each time he started laughing, Jude and I laughed, right along with him.
Tonight, I tried it again. He laughed a little bit, but nothing like last night. By tomorrow, I'm sure, I'll need to come up with something else to make him laugh. I think I'm up for the challenge. When I think about it, if I can make my son laugh at some point every day, then I've got a lot of pretty good days ahead of me.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Bath Soup
One of my favorite parts of our nightly routine with John Patrick is bath time. On nights when he has a bath, Jude takes him upstairs to the bathroom in our bedroom and turns on the water in the clawfooted bath tub. I follow close behind and, usually, lay down on the bed while John Patrick runs from our bedroom into the hall and back again, chattering and laughing. From time to time, he'll run over to the bed, slap it with both hands (he's right at eye level with our bed now), smile and me, then take off into the hall.
Often times, I'll sit in the bathroom, on the closed lid of the commode, and watch while Jude bathes John Patrick. Really, though, there's more playing in the bath tub than actual bathing. He splashes the water as Jude bathes him, surrounded by floating boats, books, shampoo bottles, water bottles, etc. After she finishes, Jude unstops the drain, John Patrick says, "bye bye" to the water and she lifts him out of the bath tub. She wraps him in a towel, hands him to me and I carry him into his room so I can dress him in his pajamas and get him ready for bed. Lately, I sing "J.P. Burrito," one of my patented, made up songs, this one a takeoff on the "Baby Beluga" song by Raffi.
Tonight, I was in the bathroom with John Patrick while the water was running in the bath tub, just before the official beginning of bath time. Jude was coming in and out of the bathroom to check the water. For some reason, John Patrick decided he needed to drop into the bath tub anything he could get his hands on. He leaned over the edge of the bath tub, looked down at the water, then dropped in his shampoo, soap, wash rag and various toys. Then, after he had emptied out a plastic basket that Jude keeps all of those things in, he lifted it up and dropped it in the bath tub, too. At that point, I began handing him things, all of which he dropped into the bath tub. Miniature shampoo bottles, Jude's plastic contact case, it was all going into the bath tub.
Jude walked in, finally, looked at John Patrick, me, then the bath tub. "Look, it's bath soup," she said. Bath soup, indeed.
Often times, I'll sit in the bathroom, on the closed lid of the commode, and watch while Jude bathes John Patrick. Really, though, there's more playing in the bath tub than actual bathing. He splashes the water as Jude bathes him, surrounded by floating boats, books, shampoo bottles, water bottles, etc. After she finishes, Jude unstops the drain, John Patrick says, "bye bye" to the water and she lifts him out of the bath tub. She wraps him in a towel, hands him to me and I carry him into his room so I can dress him in his pajamas and get him ready for bed. Lately, I sing "J.P. Burrito," one of my patented, made up songs, this one a takeoff on the "Baby Beluga" song by Raffi.
Tonight, I was in the bathroom with John Patrick while the water was running in the bath tub, just before the official beginning of bath time. Jude was coming in and out of the bathroom to check the water. For some reason, John Patrick decided he needed to drop into the bath tub anything he could get his hands on. He leaned over the edge of the bath tub, looked down at the water, then dropped in his shampoo, soap, wash rag and various toys. Then, after he had emptied out a plastic basket that Jude keeps all of those things in, he lifted it up and dropped it in the bath tub, too. At that point, I began handing him things, all of which he dropped into the bath tub. Miniature shampoo bottles, Jude's plastic contact case, it was all going into the bath tub.
Jude walked in, finally, looked at John Patrick, me, then the bath tub. "Look, it's bath soup," she said. Bath soup, indeed.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Seattle in the Fall
Well, not exactly, but it sure feels like Seattle, WA, since we've had rain, rain and more rain lately. This evening, after work, John Patrick and I played in the puddles on the sidewalk in front of our house.
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