I'm sitting on a stool at the island in our kitchen, watching J.P. and Jude put together a "Thomas the Train" puzzle on the floor of the dining room. It's got 24 large pieces - a toddler puzzle, so to speak. He's been quite taken with it the past few days.
The funny part, though, is that J.P. yells, fake cries and generally raises hell when he can't get a piece of the puzzle to fit. Then, when he finds where a particular piece fits, it's smiles and sunny days again.
Now, he's lying on his stomach, looking at a piece and saying to himself, "what can be the problem?" He's got a look of concentration on his face as he stares intently at the remaining pieces.
We're listening to "Snacktime!" (Barenaked Ladies) on the iPod, which J.P. requested at dinner. It makes me a little sad and nostalgic to hear it, because it was the first album he really liked and one we used to listen to, literally, every morning at breakfast.
When he still ate in a high chair. When he wasn't talking much. When he wasn't as tall as he is now. When he hadn't discovered the television, iPad, the computer or iPhone. When he didn't know his letters. In other words, when he was young. It's crazy to think he'll be 3 years old in almost exactly two months.
Is it possible I already miss "the Snacktime days?" I guess it is, because I do.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
The Cable Guy
This is the type of post that will probably be read at J.P.'s rehearsal dinner, the night before his wedding. In other words, it's not for the faint of heart and parental discretion is advised.
Jude and I fighting a losing battle in the potty training war, but that's a story for another day. Last night, in between Jude repeatedly asking J.P. if he wanted to sit on the potty, he informed her he was "making a poo poo." He had that look on his face, one of concentration. He was having a bit of a tough time.
A few minutes later, we took him upstairs to give him a bath before bedtime. While Jude was filling the bath tub with water, I took him into his room and laid him on the changing table to change his diaper. I knew he was dirty, but still, my mouth fell open when I pulled his diaper off. He had laid some serious cable, if you know what I mean. Never, ever have I seen anything like that from J.P. It was like a sculpture - long (almost like a torpedo) and fully formed - nicely shaped, really. It was a full grown effort on his part.
"Jude. Come check this out!" I suggested. She thought I was crazy. "It's huge!" I said. J.P. immediately repeated, "It's huge!" He and I were both laughing. "Ginormous!" I offered. He agreed. "Ginormous, Daddy!"
He and I carried his diaper into the bathroom to empty it in the toilet, as part of his potty training routine. When I dropped his load in the toilet bowl, water splashed almost to the ceiling. It was that impressive.
My son, the cable guy.
Jude and I fighting a losing battle in the potty training war, but that's a story for another day. Last night, in between Jude repeatedly asking J.P. if he wanted to sit on the potty, he informed her he was "making a poo poo." He had that look on his face, one of concentration. He was having a bit of a tough time.
A few minutes later, we took him upstairs to give him a bath before bedtime. While Jude was filling the bath tub with water, I took him into his room and laid him on the changing table to change his diaper. I knew he was dirty, but still, my mouth fell open when I pulled his diaper off. He had laid some serious cable, if you know what I mean. Never, ever have I seen anything like that from J.P. It was like a sculpture - long (almost like a torpedo) and fully formed - nicely shaped, really. It was a full grown effort on his part.
"Jude. Come check this out!" I suggested. She thought I was crazy. "It's huge!" I said. J.P. immediately repeated, "It's huge!" He and I were both laughing. "Ginormous!" I offered. He agreed. "Ginormous, Daddy!"
He and I carried his diaper into the bathroom to empty it in the toilet, as part of his potty training routine. When I dropped his load in the toilet bowl, water splashed almost to the ceiling. It was that impressive.
My son, the cable guy.
Snowflakes for Breakfast
Monday, January 10, 2011
Sledding
Last night, we went to bed amidst conflicting reports of snow headed our way, anywhere from 1 - 6 inches. When we woke up this morning, sure enough, it had snowed overnight. It was a pretty snow - about 3 inches on the ground.
I drove J.P. to my mother's house after I got ready for work, as she was keeping him today. He had a great time there, as he always does. After work, I picked him up and we stopped by REI to buy him some snow boots. He loves REI, because there's plenty of room for him to run around and he loves to look at the bicycles and kayaks. The only toddlers' snow boots they had were a size too big for him, but I got them anyway, figuring he could wear two pairs of socks with them.
When J.P. and I pulled up in front of our house, it was almost dark. He looked out the window of my truck and saw Jude carrying a couple of sleds out onto the front porch. He literally began squealing with delight, bouncing up and down in his car seat. Like we did last year when it snowed, Jude and I took him across the street and the two of them sledded down the ice covered alley. He loved it.
Oh, and his boots worked pretty well, too.
I drove J.P. to my mother's house after I got ready for work, as she was keeping him today. He had a great time there, as he always does. After work, I picked him up and we stopped by REI to buy him some snow boots. He loves REI, because there's plenty of room for him to run around and he loves to look at the bicycles and kayaks. The only toddlers' snow boots they had were a size too big for him, but I got them anyway, figuring he could wear two pairs of socks with them.
When J.P. and I pulled up in front of our house, it was almost dark. He looked out the window of my truck and saw Jude carrying a couple of sleds out onto the front porch. He literally began squealing with delight, bouncing up and down in his car seat. Like we did last year when it snowed, Jude and I took him across the street and the two of them sledded down the ice covered alley. He loved it.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Birthday Party Crashers
This morning, while I ran some errands in light snow, Jude took J.P. to a kids' place near our house - Bounce U. It's one of those places that essentially a warehouse with playground equipment inside, so kids can run, play, climb, etc., inside.
I kind of raised my eyebrows when Jude told me she was taking J.P. to Bounce U., since we knew some friends of ours - Scott and Rhonda Sims were hosting a birthday party there today for their daughter, Virginia, who just turned four. J.P., mind you, was not invited to the birthday party, probably because it was going to be attended by four year old girls, for the most party. I didn't say anything, though, figuring Jude knew what she was doing.
Sure enough, shortly after arriving at Bounce U. (it sounds like a college, doesn't it?) with J.P., Jude ran into Scott and Rhonda Sims. It was awkward, as you can imagine, on several levels. J.P. knows Virginia, since our nanny, Carley, has kept both of them at the Sims' house before. Carley and her husband, Jon, were at the birthday party. And last but not least, Jude and J.P. were at a birthday party to which J.P. hadn't been invited. At Bounce U. (I can't stop saying that - Bounce U.).
Fortunately, Scott and Rhonda Sims are two of the nicest people you could ever meet. They insisted J.P. stay for the party and even gave him a party bag when one of the invited guests failed to show up. He had a big time and wore himself out running, sliding and playing on all the equipment there.
When Jude told me about it when I got home, we laughed and laughed. Just like "Wedding Crashers." Only different. We might just start taking J.P. to Bounce U. every Saturday morning and hooking up with whomever is throwing a birthday party for their child.
I kind of raised my eyebrows when Jude told me she was taking J.P. to Bounce U., since we knew some friends of ours - Scott and Rhonda Sims were hosting a birthday party there today for their daughter, Virginia, who just turned four. J.P., mind you, was not invited to the birthday party, probably because it was going to be attended by four year old girls, for the most party. I didn't say anything, though, figuring Jude knew what she was doing.
Sure enough, shortly after arriving at Bounce U. (it sounds like a college, doesn't it?) with J.P., Jude ran into Scott and Rhonda Sims. It was awkward, as you can imagine, on several levels. J.P. knows Virginia, since our nanny, Carley, has kept both of them at the Sims' house before. Carley and her husband, Jon, were at the birthday party. And last but not least, Jude and J.P. were at a birthday party to which J.P. hadn't been invited. At Bounce U. (I can't stop saying that - Bounce U.).
Fortunately, Scott and Rhonda Sims are two of the nicest people you could ever meet. They insisted J.P. stay for the party and even gave him a party bag when one of the invited guests failed to show up. He had a big time and wore himself out running, sliding and playing on all the equipment there.
When Jude told me about it when I got home, we laughed and laughed. Just like "Wedding Crashers." Only different. We might just start taking J.P. to Bounce U. every Saturday morning and hooking up with whomever is throwing a birthday party for their child.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Mad at Mad Donna's
New Year's Eve, Jude, J.P. and I took her parents with us to Mad Donna's, a restaurant in East Nashville (formerly Radio Cafe, one of my all-time favorite East Nashville spots). We'd had a really nice meal there a few weeks ago, so we thought we'd head across the river ahead of the dinner rush and return home safe and sound before the New Year's Eve crazies got out and about.
We arrived about 6:30 p.m. and were seated upstairs, where there's a second bar, several tables and a slightly raised stage for musical performances. Initially, I was a little concerned about the stray cords on the stage, but I checked things out and it didn't appear there was too much trouble for J.P. to get into, especially with us watching him.
We ordered J.P.'s food first, as we typically do when we go out, so he'd be occupied while we waited for our food. He finished while we were still eating, so we let him get out of the high chair to run around a bit. By then, there were a couple other tables seated with people and he immediately walked over to them to say "hello." He quickly followed up with "what's your name?" Everyone appeared to be enjoy interacting with him.
Suddenly, a young man (the manager) appeared at the top of the stairs and, rather brusquely, asked us if we could keep our son in his seat. Jude and I looked at each other, surprised, then said "sure," realizing that if we forced him sit back down in the high chair, J.P. would raise complete hell and ruin everyone's dinner. Jude took J.P. downstairs, outside, and we decided to cut our evening short and head back home.
While we waited on the check, I ran into the manager. Still smarting and a bit irritated, I suggested to him that we didn't intend to return to Mad Donna's. I also suggested I was going to post a review, on-line (on one of the many restaurant review websites) and warn people that Mad Donna's wasn't "kid friendly." He and I exchanged words, then I walked back upstairs to our table.
A couple of minutes later, the manager walked upstairs, stopped at our table and advised me that was picking up our restaurant and bar tab. He didn't want their to be any hard feelings and he apologized for any misunderstanding. I appreciated his apology and insisted he at least allow me to pay the bar tab. He admitted, more or less, that no one had complained that J.P. was being a nuisance. Rather, he was worried he might get underfoot and fall, have a tray dropped on him, etc.
As I thought about the entire episode later that evening, I couldn't help but dwell on a couple of interesting points.
First, it was the first time anyone, let alone a stranger, had criticized my son. The emotions the manager instantly invoked in me were startling. I was surprised, angry, hurt and defensive. Part of me understood the manager had a legitimate point, but part of me was pissed, really pissed, that a stranger would dare to criticize my son.
Second, it was surprising how quickly the manager changed his tune, apologized to me and offered to "comp" our meal. Why would he do that? The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that his change in heart was due to my comment that I was going to post an unfavorable review on the internet. With Twitter, Facebook (other social media) and the on-line restaurant review websites, a business (especially one in a service industry) has to be aware of what people are saying, good or bad. That's the power of the internet, I think, good and bad.
Overall, it was an interesting, thought provoking evening. And no, I didn't post an unfavorable review of Mad Donna's on the internet.
We arrived about 6:30 p.m. and were seated upstairs, where there's a second bar, several tables and a slightly raised stage for musical performances. Initially, I was a little concerned about the stray cords on the stage, but I checked things out and it didn't appear there was too much trouble for J.P. to get into, especially with us watching him.
We ordered J.P.'s food first, as we typically do when we go out, so he'd be occupied while we waited for our food. He finished while we were still eating, so we let him get out of the high chair to run around a bit. By then, there were a couple other tables seated with people and he immediately walked over to them to say "hello." He quickly followed up with "what's your name?" Everyone appeared to be enjoy interacting with him.
Suddenly, a young man (the manager) appeared at the top of the stairs and, rather brusquely, asked us if we could keep our son in his seat. Jude and I looked at each other, surprised, then said "sure," realizing that if we forced him sit back down in the high chair, J.P. would raise complete hell and ruin everyone's dinner. Jude took J.P. downstairs, outside, and we decided to cut our evening short and head back home.
While we waited on the check, I ran into the manager. Still smarting and a bit irritated, I suggested to him that we didn't intend to return to Mad Donna's. I also suggested I was going to post a review, on-line (on one of the many restaurant review websites) and warn people that Mad Donna's wasn't "kid friendly." He and I exchanged words, then I walked back upstairs to our table.
A couple of minutes later, the manager walked upstairs, stopped at our table and advised me that was picking up our restaurant and bar tab. He didn't want their to be any hard feelings and he apologized for any misunderstanding. I appreciated his apology and insisted he at least allow me to pay the bar tab. He admitted, more or less, that no one had complained that J.P. was being a nuisance. Rather, he was worried he might get underfoot and fall, have a tray dropped on him, etc.
As I thought about the entire episode later that evening, I couldn't help but dwell on a couple of interesting points.
First, it was the first time anyone, let alone a stranger, had criticized my son. The emotions the manager instantly invoked in me were startling. I was surprised, angry, hurt and defensive. Part of me understood the manager had a legitimate point, but part of me was pissed, really pissed, that a stranger would dare to criticize my son.
Second, it was surprising how quickly the manager changed his tune, apologized to me and offered to "comp" our meal. Why would he do that? The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that his change in heart was due to my comment that I was going to post an unfavorable review on the internet. With Twitter, Facebook (other social media) and the on-line restaurant review websites, a business (especially one in a service industry) has to be aware of what people are saying, good or bad. That's the power of the internet, I think, good and bad.
Overall, it was an interesting, thought provoking evening. And no, I didn't post an unfavorable review of Mad Donna's on the internet.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Acts of Faith
I love to read.
Newspapers, magazines of all sorts, on-line content, but especially books. Non-fiction, fiction, memoirs, biographies, books of short stories, books of essays, all of it. I feel slightly off kilter if I don't have a book going that I'm interested in at any given point in time. As a result, I'll often start two, three or more books until I find one that really grabs me.
Also, I am forever purchasing books that, for one reason or another, pique my interest. I place them in my bookcases, keep them at work or stack them up next to my side of the bed, always planning on reading them . . . eventually. Often times, I forget what drew me to a particular book in the first place.
In J.P.'s nook, by the futon, we have a basket of paperback books, many of which I have read but some I haven't. On top of the stack, for the last few years, sat Philip Caputo's "Acts of Faith." Strangely, it almost seemed like the book was staring at me each day, reproachfully, whenever I glanced at the basket as I hurried downstairs, on my way somewhere.
A month or so ago, I picked the "Acts of Faith" up out of the basket, took it into our bedroom and started reading it before I went to bed. A few minutes ago, I finished it. A book like "Acts of Faith" is why I read, why I enjoy reading so much. A book like that moves you and resonates with you and its characters stay with you, like old friends you never see anymore but about whom you have fond memories.
Newspapers, magazines of all sorts, on-line content, but especially books. Non-fiction, fiction, memoirs, biographies, books of short stories, books of essays, all of it. I feel slightly off kilter if I don't have a book going that I'm interested in at any given point in time. As a result, I'll often start two, three or more books until I find one that really grabs me.
Also, I am forever purchasing books that, for one reason or another, pique my interest. I place them in my bookcases, keep them at work or stack them up next to my side of the bed, always planning on reading them . . . eventually. Often times, I forget what drew me to a particular book in the first place.
In J.P.'s nook, by the futon, we have a basket of paperback books, many of which I have read but some I haven't. On top of the stack, for the last few years, sat Philip Caputo's "Acts of Faith." Strangely, it almost seemed like the book was staring at me each day, reproachfully, whenever I glanced at the basket as I hurried downstairs, on my way somewhere.
A month or so ago, I picked the "Acts of Faith" up out of the basket, took it into our bedroom and started reading it before I went to bed. A few minutes ago, I finished it. A book like "Acts of Faith" is why I read, why I enjoy reading so much. A book like that moves you and resonates with you and its characters stay with you, like old friends you never see anymore but about whom you have fond memories.
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