James is learning transition words. Conjuctions, conditional statements, all kinds of grammatical particles. This is how the typical conversation has been with him today.
"Daddy, we got Five Little Monkeys at the bookstore! BUT, we read it many times. Despite that, we went to the CARWASH! BUT, the scush-scush-scrubbers were working. BUT, we also read Five Little Monkeys at Bawns and Noble. Anyway, we bringed this book home. BUT, the crocodiles all go to sleep. BUT, the monkeys are going to their house. Despite that, George has a poopy diaper. BUT, I put some poopy in my diaper too. BUT, George needs to get his diaper changed. Despite that, I wanna read Five Little Monkeys again."
<walks off humming the Imperial March>
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Keeping Score
5 points to James, for doing cute things like sneezing twice and then saying "Oh, Mommy, I made two bless-yous!"
Another 5 points to James, for singing the Happy Birthday song to Alexa as we drove back and transitioning from the final cadence into the Star Wars fanfare. (Happy burrrthday tooo yooouuu! Sol-sol...mi. Sol-sol...mi. Te-te..la-te-la-sol-mi.)
5 points to Terry Pegula, whose purchase of the Bills means that James will grow up watching the Bills in Buffalo
5 points to the Buffalo Bills, who with a 2-0 record are in sole possession of 1st place in the AFC East
5 points to Jim Kelly, for beating cancer
5 points to everyone in the city of Buffalo, because it was a great day
5 points to Abby, for laughing and being so cute while Pax and I played Abby-ball
5 points to J, for making baked beans for a bunch of people at a party, even though she doesn't really like baked beans
5 points to James, for providing an excuse to leave said party by coming up and declaring "we need to go, because my Daddy needs to practice."
5 points to J's pastor, who tried to be friendly with James yesterday by asking him whether he was enjoying his donut hole. "That's not a donut hole. That's a timbit."
Another 5 points to James, for singing the Happy Birthday song to Alexa as we drove back and transitioning from the final cadence into the Star Wars fanfare. (Happy burrrthday tooo yooouuu! Sol-sol...mi. Sol-sol...mi. Te-te..la-te-la-sol-mi.)
5 points to Terry Pegula, whose purchase of the Bills means that James will grow up watching the Bills in Buffalo
5 points to the Buffalo Bills, who with a 2-0 record are in sole possession of 1st place in the AFC East
5 points to Jim Kelly, for beating cancer
5 points to everyone in the city of Buffalo, because it was a great day
5 points to Abby, for laughing and being so cute while Pax and I played Abby-ball
5 points to J, for making baked beans for a bunch of people at a party, even though she doesn't really like baked beans
5 points to James, for providing an excuse to leave said party by coming up and declaring "we need to go, because my Daddy needs to practice."
5 points to J's pastor, who tried to be friendly with James yesterday by asking him whether he was enjoying his donut hole. "That's not a donut hole. That's a timbit."
Thursday, September 11, 2014
A Day with James (and George)
James has started talking to George. Almost incessantly, in fact. He's always carried around with him and I suspect that until recently (when he became comfortable processing the world out loud) he's kept a silent conversation with his very curious friend. But now pretty much anything that happens is relayed out loud to George. "We're at Wegmans now, George. Did you see that?" (then he will hold George up the window so he can see.) "George, where did my car go? Oh, there it is George. Yay! We did it!" (James always refers to himself as "we" now, because George is there too.)
I. James and I were throwing a football around in the living room--this is the way many great father-son stories start, by the way; it's almost as good an opening line as "it was a dark and stormy night"--and James whipped it at me much harder than expected, so that the catch was almost as much in self-defense as anything else.
"Wow!" I exclaimed, "that one had some mustard on it."
He started giggling.
"Daddy, you said that had MUSTER on it."
"Yeah, that throw had some mustard on it."
<More giggling.>
"George, that throw had some MUSTURP on it."
From then on, every throw had "mustard" on it, which made him laugh so hard that he could barely stand up, and when he announced that one particularly wobbly toss had "ketchup" on it, he got to laughing so hard that he just collapsed in a heap of giggles.
"That's funny, George!"
II. "James, if we're going to go outside we need to put your hat on."
"I don't want to wear my hat."
"You need to wear your hat if we're going to go outside."
"My nose is wunny."
"Yeah, don't do that with Steven. You don't want to wipe your snot on him."
"What's snot?"
"Never mind. Do you want a kleenex."
"I wipe my snot on Steven. That's what Steven is for. George, I wipe my snot on Steven."
"Don't wipe your snot on Steven, James. He'll need to take a bath."
"Don't wipe your snot on Steven, James. He'll need to take a bath."
"I wipe my snot on George too."
"Here's your hat, put it on please."
"George, I need to wipe more snot on Steven."
III. It is with enormous vindictive pleasure that I hereby report that the tag "cooking disasters" attached to this blog has NOTHING to do with anything that I screwed up. J made chili in the crock pot earlier in the afternoon and told us to eat that for dinner. When the clock hit six I walked over to the chili crock and found it completely cold. Sure enough, it was unplugged. Unplugged from the exact same outlet where I'd seen her ironing her clothes just before she left. I texted her.
She wrote back:
"Blargh! I told James to remind me to plug the crock pot back in!"
I suspect that James told George to remind him to remind J, and George just forgot to remind James.
I made hot dogs on the stove, cut James' up into pennies, and set it out for him with a squirt of mustard and a squirt of ketchup. "That's a funny noise, Daddy. George, that's a funny noise." He ended up having the dinner of champions. Half a hot dog worth of pennies, a pickle, three enormous piles of banana pepper rings, and several spoonfuls of ketchup directly off his plate before I caught him and took it away.
IV. James was working on a birthday card for Grandma Davis earlier today, so I think he had her birthday on his mind. That must have been why he was making her a cake in the bathtub.
"Daddy, I'm makin' a cake for Gra-maw. Here's her cake."
He put a cup full of water on the side of the tub.
"Here's another cake for Gran-maw. I need to tell George I'm drinkin' some cake."
He put another cup of water on the lip of the tub, and started drinking a third.
"I'm drinkin' yummy cake. Daddy, you keep Gran-maw's cake right there."
V. While James was making cake in the tub I saw this video posted on facebook by about four different musician friends. I know absolutely nothing about the tune that it's making fun of, but I absolutely love this woman's voice. If something should ever happen to J, and I say this in the full knowledge that she will read this in my blog, I would track this girl down and marry her so that she can come and do Flock of Uncles gigs.
James says "I want...to have to watch that again."
VI. When the bath was over I pulled the plug on the tub and the water started to drain out.
"Daddy, why that water go down?"
"Gravity makes it go down."
"What's grabbity?"
"You see this toothpaste tube? If I drop it, will it fall up or fall down?"
"It's gonna fall down."
"Yup, look it fell down. Gravity makes things go down."
"Why grabbity make things go down?"
"It's a force. It pulls down on everything that has mass. I think."
"Why it have mass?"
"Because...of something to do with...I don't know. There is a reason, though."
"Daddy, this is why you go to school."
"Are you telling me I should go to school to learn about gravity?"
"No, I wanna talk to George."
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Whose Story Is It, Anyway?
Life is pretty good at the moment.
I have a beautiful young wife, a mostly delightful young son, and another boy on the way. I've been reasonably successful in my chosen discipline, and our financial position is fairly strong, especially for our age bracket. We're all in good health. I'm exercising regularly, keeping a clean house, and eating well. I have (apparently) a substantial audience to my casual blog.
(There's a point to all this, it isn't just a bunch of bragging.)
The Bills even won their home opener.
When will the other shoe drop?
Actually, I spend way too many waking hours waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don't think it's some kind of psychological anxiety. Even if our health or our financial stability got blown to bits tomorrow morning, I think we'd be okay. I don't think it's a question of measuring up to some sort of invisible external pressures either. All these I have kept since I was a child.
Jesus said to him, If you would be perfect, go, sell all your possessions, give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.
Actually, there are a lot of good reasons to consider taking that passage at face value. And, of course, there are a lot of good reasons to do a little reading before unloading all your wealth.
The thought that's been helping me to sleep easier is that I am, most likely, not the protagonist. By which I mean, that whatever success or failure and whatever measure you apply to my own standing in the world, and however I might feel about my standing in the world, is likely unimportant to the story. Chances are that I am a secondary character. In the enormous and whirling story of history and in the divine drama of new creation the "myself" character is probably more important as James' father (a minor bit with two lines at the beginning of the scene) or my father's son (a non-speaking role that could be played by a girl if they're short on boys) or as Abby's uncle or someone's trumpet tutor.
That's really comforting. It's comforting to know think that your own big stories--the story of how we got the house, or the story of how I won the job, or the story of how we did once the second baby was born--are little stories, and that you don't even need to be the main character in those stories to hear them in their best telling.
That somehow makes the story seem a little more joyful and exciting. It's great fun to think that I might be sharing right now some tiny part of the story of the year the Bills finally won the Super Bowl.
I have a beautiful young wife, a mostly delightful young son, and another boy on the way. I've been reasonably successful in my chosen discipline, and our financial position is fairly strong, especially for our age bracket. We're all in good health. I'm exercising regularly, keeping a clean house, and eating well. I have (apparently) a substantial audience to my casual blog.
(There's a point to all this, it isn't just a bunch of bragging.)
The Bills even won their home opener.
When will the other shoe drop?
Actually, I spend way too many waking hours waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don't think it's some kind of psychological anxiety. Even if our health or our financial stability got blown to bits tomorrow morning, I think we'd be okay. I don't think it's a question of measuring up to some sort of invisible external pressures either. All these I have kept since I was a child.
Jesus said to him, If you would be perfect, go, sell all your possessions, give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.
Actually, there are a lot of good reasons to consider taking that passage at face value. And, of course, there are a lot of good reasons to do a little reading before unloading all your wealth.
The thought that's been helping me to sleep easier is that I am, most likely, not the protagonist. By which I mean, that whatever success or failure and whatever measure you apply to my own standing in the world, and however I might feel about my standing in the world, is likely unimportant to the story. Chances are that I am a secondary character. In the enormous and whirling story of history and in the divine drama of new creation the "myself" character is probably more important as James' father (a minor bit with two lines at the beginning of the scene) or my father's son (a non-speaking role that could be played by a girl if they're short on boys) or as Abby's uncle or someone's trumpet tutor.
That's really comforting. It's comforting to know think that your own big stories--the story of how we got the house, or the story of how I won the job, or the story of how we did once the second baby was born--are little stories, and that you don't even need to be the main character in those stories to hear them in their best telling.
That somehow makes the story seem a little more joyful and exciting. It's great fun to think that I might be sharing right now some tiny part of the story of the year the Bills finally won the Super Bowl.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
2014 Buffalo Bills Season Preview
It's time again to camp out at Hilltop on Sunday afternoons and either ascend into irrational euphoria (to the confusion of our children and the chagrin of our wives) or to descend into bottomless depression (to the confusion of our children and the chagrin of our wives) every Sunday by 4:00 Eastern Football Time. The Bills are back! And this year is going to be OUR YEAR, because if it isn't our year we've already mortgaged next year to the Cleveland Browns in the form of our first round draft pick. (Number 32, of course.)
What should we expect this year?
QB: Despite the fact that he's had a shaky preseason and appears to have regressed in some (most) of his important developmental areas, I have high hopes for EJ Manuel this year. Why, you ask? Because of chance. I figure that with slightly over half of the teams in the league fielding serviceable starter-quality quarterbacks, we are statistically guaranteed to have come up with a quality player at the quarterback position. You can argue about how many of those quarterbacks are really "elite" (whatever that means) vs. just serviceable, but by my count half the quarterbacks in the league don't have to worry about being supplanted by some new project at the end of the year. (Brady, Tannehill, Flacco, Roethlisberger, Dalton, Rivers, Manning, Smith, Luck, Romo, Foles, Griffin, Manning, Cutler, Rodgers, Stafford, Brees, Ryan, Newton, Kaepernick, Wilson). Okay, so that's 21, more like 2/3rds of the league. Yes, probably one or two of those guys will have a bad a year or a bad injury, and there might be a conversation. But for the majority of them, they are the answer to their team's woes. If an NFL team comes out of your gate with a quality quarterback 66% of the time, what are the odds that your guy is going to end up on the garbage heap for the 10th time in a row? So, EJ, the coin is going to come up heads on you.
HB: Nobody gets a thousand yards. Fred is his usual solid self and averages 4.something per carry of intelligent situational running. He still gets the ball when they need a third down conversion or a touchdown. CJ, as much as I love him will either get hurt or be streaky. I fully expect him to have two 150+ yard games. And then he'll have a game where he gets 8 yards on 9 carries. By season's end he will be the highest paid running back in the NFL. Either Brown or Dixon will come in for one game and score a bunch of touchdowns, and they'll be rewarded with a bunch more carries the next week, but they won't do as well and then everyone will get all ticked off that CJ wasn't used more.
WR: Speaking of Freddie, he will lead the team in receptions. Sammy Watkins will have a nice rookie season and flash some dominance here and there, but I don't expect him to have 1000+ yards or more than 5 touchdowns. Hogan will have the 2nd highest reception total and at some point Mike Williams will throw a hissy fit about getting the ball.
OL: Glenn and Woods will be awesome. Pears will be a bit of a tire fire at guard, and someone will get it in their head that Kouandjiou ought to be playing guard. People will ask Doug Marrone about it several games in a row until he loses his temper and says something in an impatient and angry tone that he hadn't thought all the way through before he started talking. Chris Williams will get hurt and Urbik will end up playing on the left side.
DL: Kyle Williams will be his usual great self, and Jerry Hughes will have more sacks at the end of the year than Mario Williams. (This is a good thing for Mario...it means that he's finally taking his run contain responsibilities seriously.) Marcel Dareus will get benched at least once, but will probably get a couple sacks.
LB: Assuming that the coin flip comes up favorably on EJ, linebacker will be the position that everyone is wishing we had a first round pick for next year. The run defense will be pretty good and you'll get some corner play, but fans will get real sick of watching opposing half backs and tight ends chew up the middle of the field. Someone will come up with a good nickname for Brandon Spikes.
S: Anytime Jairus Byrd makes an interesting play the national commentators will mention Buffalo in derisive bewilderment, as if they had purposefully sent him packing with no effort to retain him at all. Someone will get hurt, and when Jonathon Meeks comes into the lineup John Murphy will say something about the Meeks inheriting the earth.
CB: Stephon Gilmore will struggle early and then completely shut down some great receiver. When asked about what changed in his game, Stephon will say that he just tries to prepare week in and week out or some sportsyak equivalent. Really, he'll just be ticked off and tired of getting burned. Leodis McKelvin will lead the team in interceptions, but will give up several critical long balls.
ST: Dan Carpenter will play statistically well but miss a crucial late field goal at the Ralph in December. The team will employ at least three different punters over the course of the year.
Overall outlook: 9-7, but out of the playoffs again.
What should we expect this year?
QB: Despite the fact that he's had a shaky preseason and appears to have regressed in some (most) of his important developmental areas, I have high hopes for EJ Manuel this year. Why, you ask? Because of chance. I figure that with slightly over half of the teams in the league fielding serviceable starter-quality quarterbacks, we are statistically guaranteed to have come up with a quality player at the quarterback position. You can argue about how many of those quarterbacks are really "elite" (whatever that means) vs. just serviceable, but by my count half the quarterbacks in the league don't have to worry about being supplanted by some new project at the end of the year. (Brady, Tannehill, Flacco, Roethlisberger, Dalton, Rivers, Manning, Smith, Luck, Romo, Foles, Griffin, Manning, Cutler, Rodgers, Stafford, Brees, Ryan, Newton, Kaepernick, Wilson). Okay, so that's 21, more like 2/3rds of the league. Yes, probably one or two of those guys will have a bad a year or a bad injury, and there might be a conversation. But for the majority of them, they are the answer to their team's woes. If an NFL team comes out of your gate with a quality quarterback 66% of the time, what are the odds that your guy is going to end up on the garbage heap for the 10th time in a row? So, EJ, the coin is going to come up heads on you.
HB: Nobody gets a thousand yards. Fred is his usual solid self and averages 4.something per carry of intelligent situational running. He still gets the ball when they need a third down conversion or a touchdown. CJ, as much as I love him will either get hurt or be streaky. I fully expect him to have two 150+ yard games. And then he'll have a game where he gets 8 yards on 9 carries. By season's end he will be the highest paid running back in the NFL. Either Brown or Dixon will come in for one game and score a bunch of touchdowns, and they'll be rewarded with a bunch more carries the next week, but they won't do as well and then everyone will get all ticked off that CJ wasn't used more.
WR: Speaking of Freddie, he will lead the team in receptions. Sammy Watkins will have a nice rookie season and flash some dominance here and there, but I don't expect him to have 1000+ yards or more than 5 touchdowns. Hogan will have the 2nd highest reception total and at some point Mike Williams will throw a hissy fit about getting the ball.
OL: Glenn and Woods will be awesome. Pears will be a bit of a tire fire at guard, and someone will get it in their head that Kouandjiou ought to be playing guard. People will ask Doug Marrone about it several games in a row until he loses his temper and says something in an impatient and angry tone that he hadn't thought all the way through before he started talking. Chris Williams will get hurt and Urbik will end up playing on the left side.
DL: Kyle Williams will be his usual great self, and Jerry Hughes will have more sacks at the end of the year than Mario Williams. (This is a good thing for Mario...it means that he's finally taking his run contain responsibilities seriously.) Marcel Dareus will get benched at least once, but will probably get a couple sacks.
LB: Assuming that the coin flip comes up favorably on EJ, linebacker will be the position that everyone is wishing we had a first round pick for next year. The run defense will be pretty good and you'll get some corner play, but fans will get real sick of watching opposing half backs and tight ends chew up the middle of the field. Someone will come up with a good nickname for Brandon Spikes.
S: Anytime Jairus Byrd makes an interesting play the national commentators will mention Buffalo in derisive bewilderment, as if they had purposefully sent him packing with no effort to retain him at all. Someone will get hurt, and when Jonathon Meeks comes into the lineup John Murphy will say something about the Meeks inheriting the earth.
CB: Stephon Gilmore will struggle early and then completely shut down some great receiver. When asked about what changed in his game, Stephon will say that he just tries to prepare week in and week out or some sportsyak equivalent. Really, he'll just be ticked off and tired of getting burned. Leodis McKelvin will lead the team in interceptions, but will give up several critical long balls.
ST: Dan Carpenter will play statistically well but miss a crucial late field goal at the Ralph in December. The team will employ at least three different punters over the course of the year.
Overall outlook: 9-7, but out of the playoffs again.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Hot September Day
I.
We sure are thankful for our air conditioning. We don't have a great unit--it's mounted in the wall and doesn't really cool anything down except for the living room, but it is SO nice to have a cool room when you're up on the second floor on a 90 degree day. We never had air conditioning on Washington Street except in James' room.
This morning we've been camped out directly beneath the unit except for our hour of errand running, at which point we were all very thankful to have two cars with functional air conditioning. We had to go sign more papers at the mortgage broker's, and James met a 15 month old bulldog named Albert who was deeply curious of George. James and George still both smell like Albert. We dropped off books at the library, visited the bank, and then were back home in front of the a/c again before too long. It's a good day to read Go Dog Go and build train tracks while sipping fruit smoothies. (Or beer.)
II.
Currently reading The Well Trained Mind by Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise. (Susan is an editor for Books and Culture) It's always encouraging to find a book at the library, thumb to the bibliography, and see a list of books and articles that match exactly your opinion of the best sources of a subject. This book is a guide to homeschooling using a classical education curriculum. The book so far has passed the litmus tests of technology (no) and the purpose of Latin instruction (the grammar, not spoken fluency) with flying colors and is laying out a useful structure for the trivium. I think we'll probably end up buying our own copy of this book. (Not to mention lots of the resources listed inside...yikes, that could be expensive.)
Also working on Niall Ferguson's The Ascent of Money. I'm trying to stitch together some coherent narrative in the history of finance while keeping a dictionary of terms laid open on the end table. Currently reading about the Rothschild family. (I've only ever known the name as the butt of obscure jokes.)
III.
The Christ-hymn in Philippians 2 is on the lectionary for the end of the month, and I can't find any good choral anthems on the text. (Recommendations, anyone?) I think what I'm going to do is steal the 1st verse of the hymn May the Mind of Christ My Savior and then paraphrase the rest of the text into four verses. Here's what I have so far
1. May the mind of Christ my Savior
Live in me from day to day
By his love and power controlling
All I do and say
2. He in form divine considered
Pow'r not seizing, but obeyed,
And a servant, self he emptied
And was humble made
3. God him now has high exalted
Name above all names is giv'n
Every knee will bow before him
in God's world and heav'n
4. All the Lord will then confess him
To the father glory give
May we share Christ's mind together
As we serve and live
UPDATE
Apparently reading a pessimistic account of international finance which assumes your already too small personal worth is probably in serious danger while simultaneously reading about an imminent thirteen year-long project for which you've made no preparations which will likely take up massive amounts of your time and money causes you to walk around all day grinding your teeth and looking gloomy. Apologies to all parties involved. Probably some of it is the heat.
We sure are thankful for our air conditioning. We don't have a great unit--it's mounted in the wall and doesn't really cool anything down except for the living room, but it is SO nice to have a cool room when you're up on the second floor on a 90 degree day. We never had air conditioning on Washington Street except in James' room.
This morning we've been camped out directly beneath the unit except for our hour of errand running, at which point we were all very thankful to have two cars with functional air conditioning. We had to go sign more papers at the mortgage broker's, and James met a 15 month old bulldog named Albert who was deeply curious of George. James and George still both smell like Albert. We dropped off books at the library, visited the bank, and then were back home in front of the a/c again before too long. It's a good day to read Go Dog Go and build train tracks while sipping fruit smoothies. (Or beer.)
II.
Currently reading The Well Trained Mind by Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise. (Susan is an editor for Books and Culture) It's always encouraging to find a book at the library, thumb to the bibliography, and see a list of books and articles that match exactly your opinion of the best sources of a subject. This book is a guide to homeschooling using a classical education curriculum. The book so far has passed the litmus tests of technology (no) and the purpose of Latin instruction (the grammar, not spoken fluency) with flying colors and is laying out a useful structure for the trivium. I think we'll probably end up buying our own copy of this book. (Not to mention lots of the resources listed inside...yikes, that could be expensive.)
Also working on Niall Ferguson's The Ascent of Money. I'm trying to stitch together some coherent narrative in the history of finance while keeping a dictionary of terms laid open on the end table. Currently reading about the Rothschild family. (I've only ever known the name as the butt of obscure jokes.)
III.
The Christ-hymn in Philippians 2 is on the lectionary for the end of the month, and I can't find any good choral anthems on the text. (Recommendations, anyone?) I think what I'm going to do is steal the 1st verse of the hymn May the Mind of Christ My Savior and then paraphrase the rest of the text into four verses. Here's what I have so far
1. May the mind of Christ my Savior
Live in me from day to day
By his love and power controlling
All I do and say
2. He in form divine considered
Pow'r not seizing, but obeyed,
And a servant, self he emptied
And was humble made
3. God him now has high exalted
Name above all names is giv'n
Every knee will bow before him
in God's world and heav'n
4. All the Lord will then confess him
To the father glory give
May we share Christ's mind together
As we serve and live
UPDATE
Apparently reading a pessimistic account of international finance which assumes your already too small personal worth is probably in serious danger while simultaneously reading about an imminent thirteen year-long project for which you've made no preparations which will likely take up massive amounts of your time and money causes you to walk around all day grinding your teeth and looking gloomy. Apologies to all parties involved. Probably some of it is the heat.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Potty Progress
"Oh, did you see that so-and-so posted that little so-and-so went on the potty" J would say
"That's disgusting. I hereby judge them." I would answer
"Oh, they're just excited to start potty training. It's a big deal for young parents."
"So it is. But not fit for public consumption. Especially when you post detailed analyses of the amount and composition of the waste, or even worse, photos."
(This has actually happened.)
So, I'm now a hypocrite, because I am publicly analyzing the progress of James' potty training. Good thing I've never been hypocritical up until just now.
Things are going...okay. He regularly has success in the bathroom with what we'll call (for the sake of delicacy) "number one," but so far he's only put "number two" in his training potty by accident. He prefers to do that elsewhere.
And it would be one thing if we thought he hadn't learned how to control it yet, or if he were just having accidents, but no...he is completely deliberate about what he's doing. We'll be reading in the living room and J will say "Hey, where did James go?" He won't be in his bedroom or the kitchen, and then we'll open the door to the pantry where he's standing with one arm up against the shelf and a look of intense concentration on his face.
"James," I'll ask "are you pooping?"
"Nope."
"Do you need to sit on the potty?"
"Nope."
Then he'll amble back over to his toys with a diaper sagging halfway down to his knees and attempt to go back to playing as if nothing were the matter.
We're now at a point where if we hear the pantry door move, even by a slight breeze, we both instantly jump up and make sure that no one is covertly trying to fill their pants next to the spice shelf. But this isn't just an inside problem. If we're playing outside and he disappears behind a bush, the thicket by the edge of the parking lot, or one of several wide-trunked trees we usually discover him squatting and straining with a mess in his pants.
We've tried bribing. We started with marshmallows, and then five marshmallows, then Thomas the Train stickers, cookies and at his own choosing (rather ironically) dark chocolate ice cream. I've offered to let him drive my car and to stay up past his bedtime. He thinks that all these things are agreeable, but he still won't actually use the potty when nature calls.
He doesn't really do a good job of putting "number one" in the potty when nature calls, either. He's perfectly content to pee in his diaper and run around in it, but if we forcibly sit him down on the potty he can usually manufacture a drop or two and earn himself a treat (two orange skittles, always orange, and never anything else) and a sticker for his sticker chart. (Always a green smiley face, and never any other color.) He turns beet red as he sits, then looks up with a bright expression, kicks his feet, and exclaims "I made some!" And, sure enough, there is a micro-drop of urine at the bottom of his training potty. "I need two cookies." (Cookies are skittles. Cookies are also cookies, but this doesn't bother him.)
"James," I tell him as I change another half-digested catastrophe on his changing table "You should really do this in the potty and then you could have some black ice cream and I'd let you drive my car."
"No, no fanks."
"That's disgusting. I hereby judge them." I would answer
"Oh, they're just excited to start potty training. It's a big deal for young parents."
"So it is. But not fit for public consumption. Especially when you post detailed analyses of the amount and composition of the waste, or even worse, photos."
(This has actually happened.)
So, I'm now a hypocrite, because I am publicly analyzing the progress of James' potty training. Good thing I've never been hypocritical up until just now.
Things are going...okay. He regularly has success in the bathroom with what we'll call (for the sake of delicacy) "number one," but so far he's only put "number two" in his training potty by accident. He prefers to do that elsewhere.
And it would be one thing if we thought he hadn't learned how to control it yet, or if he were just having accidents, but no...he is completely deliberate about what he's doing. We'll be reading in the living room and J will say "Hey, where did James go?" He won't be in his bedroom or the kitchen, and then we'll open the door to the pantry where he's standing with one arm up against the shelf and a look of intense concentration on his face.
"James," I'll ask "are you pooping?"
"Nope."
"Do you need to sit on the potty?"
"Nope."
Then he'll amble back over to his toys with a diaper sagging halfway down to his knees and attempt to go back to playing as if nothing were the matter.
We're now at a point where if we hear the pantry door move, even by a slight breeze, we both instantly jump up and make sure that no one is covertly trying to fill their pants next to the spice shelf. But this isn't just an inside problem. If we're playing outside and he disappears behind a bush, the thicket by the edge of the parking lot, or one of several wide-trunked trees we usually discover him squatting and straining with a mess in his pants.
We've tried bribing. We started with marshmallows, and then five marshmallows, then Thomas the Train stickers, cookies and at his own choosing (rather ironically) dark chocolate ice cream. I've offered to let him drive my car and to stay up past his bedtime. He thinks that all these things are agreeable, but he still won't actually use the potty when nature calls.
He doesn't really do a good job of putting "number one" in the potty when nature calls, either. He's perfectly content to pee in his diaper and run around in it, but if we forcibly sit him down on the potty he can usually manufacture a drop or two and earn himself a treat (two orange skittles, always orange, and never anything else) and a sticker for his sticker chart. (Always a green smiley face, and never any other color.) He turns beet red as he sits, then looks up with a bright expression, kicks his feet, and exclaims "I made some!" And, sure enough, there is a micro-drop of urine at the bottom of his training potty. "I need two cookies." (Cookies are skittles. Cookies are also cookies, but this doesn't bother him.)
"James," I tell him as I change another half-digested catastrophe on his changing table "You should really do this in the potty and then you could have some black ice cream and I'd let you drive my car."
"No, no fanks."
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
If the Lesson Schedule Were Honest
This is my fourth year teaching all the instrumental lessons at a local Christian school. I know all the kids, so I have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen. Here's what a typical day looks like:
Monday
8:15 4-6 grade trumpet players blatting Let's Go Band, which was their favorite song last year. Three of the six didn't touch their instruments all summer and the valves no longer work. One of the boys ran to my room from the other side of the school and can't stop sweating
9:06 Elementary band. Percussionists, please be quiet. Time to learn some Christmas muPercussionists, quiet, please. Time to get started on Christmas music for the next.........I'm waiting....time to get started on Christmas music for the concert which is Percussionists, QUIET! We're doing three pieces for the Christmas concerts and WILL YOU DRUMMERS SHUT UP??
9:57 Elementary clarinets. I need a new reed. My clarinet isn't working. It still isn't working. Oh, the cleaning cloth is stuck. It still isn't working. A couple of these little pads fell out...is that a big deal?
10:45 Big kids band. Mr. Smith, none of us remember how to do sharps and flats.
12:06 Elementary bassoon. Mr. Smith, I don't remember how to put the instrument together anymore. So I take it you didn't practice over the summer? No, I couldn't remember how to put the instrument together.
12:58 Elementary percussion. 2 drummers show up and practice drum rolls as loud as they can. What are rudiments again? Oh, I remember that. Hey, what are those funny lines called again? Oh, that's right eighth rests. That's like, 4 counts, right? No Daniel, it's SIX.
1:45 Make-up. The other 3 drummer show up. They didn't want to skip gym.
Wednesday
8:15 HS trumpets. Listen to this high note I can play. No, wait a second, I just gotta warm up. No, wait a second, I did it a minute ago. Is that it?
9:06 HS trombones. My slide doesn't move anymore. Did you practice over the summer? No, I couldn't. Why not? I was busy. With what? I had to help around the house. Your Dad said you just played video games all summer. Yeah, I was pretty busy.
9:57 HS flutes. <no one shows up>
10:45 Jazz band. None of the saxophones can come to jazz band because they have to get their picture taken for NHS. They need to come anyway. They can have their pictures taken later. Okay, also, we also actually forgot our instruments. Ah. Use a school instrument.
12:06 HS saxophone. Mr. Smith, this school saxophone doesn't make any sound above a C. And also, I think that a mouse might have died in the case.
12:58 HS percussion. Hey Mr. Smith, are we gonna do some drumset in concert band this year? <banging drumsticks on the clavinova> Don't hit that with the drumsticks, that was expensive. I don't think so. We're doing all Bernstein. Can we do drumset anyway? <starts tapping on the school saxophone with the drumsticks> Never mind
1:45 Make-up. Mr. Smith, we're sorry we forgot our lesson. Should we come to the make-up? Sure, grab your flutes. Okay, but actually we forgot our instruments too. Have a nice weekend, girls.
Monday
8:15 4-6 grade trumpet players blatting Let's Go Band, which was their favorite song last year. Three of the six didn't touch their instruments all summer and the valves no longer work. One of the boys ran to my room from the other side of the school and can't stop sweating
9:06 Elementary band. Percussionists, please be quiet. Time to learn some Christmas muPercussionists, quiet, please. Time to get started on Christmas music for the next.........I'm waiting....time to get started on Christmas music for the concert which is Percussionists, QUIET! We're doing three pieces for the Christmas concerts and WILL YOU DRUMMERS SHUT UP??
9:57 Elementary clarinets. I need a new reed. My clarinet isn't working. It still isn't working. Oh, the cleaning cloth is stuck. It still isn't working. A couple of these little pads fell out...is that a big deal?
10:45 Big kids band. Mr. Smith, none of us remember how to do sharps and flats.
12:06 Elementary bassoon. Mr. Smith, I don't remember how to put the instrument together anymore. So I take it you didn't practice over the summer? No, I couldn't remember how to put the instrument together.
12:58 Elementary percussion. 2 drummers show up and practice drum rolls as loud as they can. What are rudiments again? Oh, I remember that. Hey, what are those funny lines called again? Oh, that's right eighth rests. That's like, 4 counts, right? No Daniel, it's SIX.
1:45 Make-up. The other 3 drummer show up. They didn't want to skip gym.
Wednesday
8:15 HS trumpets. Listen to this high note I can play. No, wait a second, I just gotta warm up. No, wait a second, I did it a minute ago. Is that it?
9:06 HS trombones. My slide doesn't move anymore. Did you practice over the summer? No, I couldn't. Why not? I was busy. With what? I had to help around the house. Your Dad said you just played video games all summer. Yeah, I was pretty busy.
9:57 HS flutes. <no one shows up>
10:45 Jazz band. None of the saxophones can come to jazz band because they have to get their picture taken for NHS. They need to come anyway. They can have their pictures taken later. Okay, also, we also actually forgot our instruments. Ah. Use a school instrument.
12:06 HS saxophone. Mr. Smith, this school saxophone doesn't make any sound above a C. And also, I think that a mouse might have died in the case.
12:58 HS percussion. Hey Mr. Smith, are we gonna do some drumset in concert band this year? <banging drumsticks on the clavinova> Don't hit that with the drumsticks, that was expensive. I don't think so. We're doing all Bernstein. Can we do drumset anyway? <starts tapping on the school saxophone with the drumsticks> Never mind
1:45 Make-up. Mr. Smith, we're sorry we forgot our lesson. Should we come to the make-up? Sure, grab your flutes. Okay, but actually we forgot our instruments too. Have a nice weekend, girls.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Grocery Shopping (or, A Child In Need of a Nap)
James is sick.
He has some kind of cold, and his nose is running all the time. He walks around the apartment sniffling and sniffling some more until he can't stand the drip, and then he reaches up with his left hand, swipes left, and then wipes all the goop onto his cheek. Unless he happens to be holding George or Steven, in which case he holds them up to his face, swipes left, and then gives them a hug. Or if he's standing around a parent, in which case he grabs a fistful of clothing, swipes left, and then gives George or Steven a hug.
The past couple of days have been pretty gross.
I'm not feeling so great either. I have a sore throat, and I'm pretty low on energy. I don't know if I caught what James has, or if it stems from going back to teaching lessons. Probably a combination of both.
The hardest part about a sick little boy isn't actually the runny nose, though. It's the lack of sleep. He just can't get comfortable for a nap, so he twists and turns (making, I believe, a genuine effort to fall asleep) for an hour, then gives up on the whole project and decides he's up for the afternoon. Between the muggy heat and the runny nose, he doesn't have a chance. He's missed three days of naps in a row, and he's getting really cranky. The first nap he missed was after he stayed up until 10 PM at the baseball game, and then he skipped after church on Sunday and yesterday as well. He's all wrung-out emotionally. Either he's super hyper or flopping on the furniture barely awake. He doesn't listen, he gets irritated really easily, and he's even started hitting us.
"Hey, do you think we should all go to the grocery store today?"
It's a big deal to go to Aldi, or as James calls it "the grocery store next to Tim Horton's." It means we get a Timbit. James has been finding coins in the car and in the parking lot, and saving up for a "toklot timbit."
He did okay for the first part of the trip. He helped Mommy put the quarter in the cart, and was only getting upset when he'd accidentally drop a train into the back of the cart. (This started to happen a lot.) Then he started swatting at me, trying to take a potshot. "Don't hit Daddy." "It's funny!" "Don't hit Daddy."
I sang a little bit and tapped on the side of the cart. I had Vince Guaraldi's "Treat Street" stuck in my head.
James took this as a cue that it's okay to sing in the grocery store. He started out by singing Jingle Bells and tapping on the cart like I was. It was okay. Then he get louder. He was singing The Imperial March and banging on the front of the cart like it was a set of timpani. Some young Moms with children started glancing at him as we walked by. "Remember to use your inside voice, James." Then he started in on "I Wanna Be Like You" and was banging away on some pretend drumset as loud as he could. The passing-by Moms looked disdainfully on as their well-behaved children gawked at the out of control boy with goop running down his top lip.
J sent us to get a timbit so she could bag the groceries on her own.
"Okay, James, tell him what you want."
"A tokwat timbit!"
"And how do you ask?"
"Peeeez!"
"Okay, give him your quarter."
"And now what do you say?"
"My Daddy is gonna need a coffee too."
He has some kind of cold, and his nose is running all the time. He walks around the apartment sniffling and sniffling some more until he can't stand the drip, and then he reaches up with his left hand, swipes left, and then wipes all the goop onto his cheek. Unless he happens to be holding George or Steven, in which case he holds them up to his face, swipes left, and then gives them a hug. Or if he's standing around a parent, in which case he grabs a fistful of clothing, swipes left, and then gives George or Steven a hug.
The past couple of days have been pretty gross.
I'm not feeling so great either. I have a sore throat, and I'm pretty low on energy. I don't know if I caught what James has, or if it stems from going back to teaching lessons. Probably a combination of both.
The hardest part about a sick little boy isn't actually the runny nose, though. It's the lack of sleep. He just can't get comfortable for a nap, so he twists and turns (making, I believe, a genuine effort to fall asleep) for an hour, then gives up on the whole project and decides he's up for the afternoon. Between the muggy heat and the runny nose, he doesn't have a chance. He's missed three days of naps in a row, and he's getting really cranky. The first nap he missed was after he stayed up until 10 PM at the baseball game, and then he skipped after church on Sunday and yesterday as well. He's all wrung-out emotionally. Either he's super hyper or flopping on the furniture barely awake. He doesn't listen, he gets irritated really easily, and he's even started hitting us.
"Hey, do you think we should all go to the grocery store today?"
It's a big deal to go to Aldi, or as James calls it "the grocery store next to Tim Horton's." It means we get a Timbit. James has been finding coins in the car and in the parking lot, and saving up for a "toklot timbit."
He did okay for the first part of the trip. He helped Mommy put the quarter in the cart, and was only getting upset when he'd accidentally drop a train into the back of the cart. (This started to happen a lot.) Then he started swatting at me, trying to take a potshot. "Don't hit Daddy." "It's funny!" "Don't hit Daddy."
I sang a little bit and tapped on the side of the cart. I had Vince Guaraldi's "Treat Street" stuck in my head.
James took this as a cue that it's okay to sing in the grocery store. He started out by singing Jingle Bells and tapping on the cart like I was. It was okay. Then he get louder. He was singing The Imperial March and banging on the front of the cart like it was a set of timpani. Some young Moms with children started glancing at him as we walked by. "Remember to use your inside voice, James." Then he started in on "I Wanna Be Like You" and was banging away on some pretend drumset as loud as he could. The passing-by Moms looked disdainfully on as their well-behaved children gawked at the out of control boy with goop running down his top lip.
J sent us to get a timbit so she could bag the groceries on her own.
"Okay, James, tell him what you want."
"A tokwat timbit!"
"And how do you ask?"
"Peeeez!"
"Okay, give him your quarter."
"And now what do you say?"
"My Daddy is gonna need a coffee too."
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