A Yogurt And Tortilla Backsplash

June 1, 2013 at 10:21 pm , by 

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

Some people just love doing home renovations. I wish I was one of them.

Walking into Lowe’s not only intimates me because of my lack of knowledge and skills as a handyman, but also because I know there’s no such thing as walking into Lowe’s just once for a project.

It’s simply the first of many times I think I have everything I need. Typically, a medium-sized project ensures at least four Lowe’s trips.

The dollar signs associated with those trips, plus knowing that I’ve underbudgeted my money as well as my time, well… it just helps explain why I’m not one of those people who loves doing home renovations.

Fortunately, Papa (my dad) knows how to do ceramic tiling and was willing to spend his Memorial Day weekend doing a backsplash for our kitchen while Mommy and I… assisted.

And by that, I mainly mean that we prepared our delicious vegan meals for him and Nonna.

I had feared that the whole time that while Papa was trying to work, you’d be trying to hang all over him, saying, “Papa, Papa! Play with me! Hold me!”

Instead, you chilled out with everyone. Thank you for that.

I appreciated your demonstration of becoming more independent.

You were soaking it all in, though. During lunch, you declared, “I tiling!”

After watching Papa glue the tile panels on the wall, you decided you would do the same with your yogurt and pieces of wheat tortilla.

In hindsight, I now can clearly see why you asked for those two items for that meal.

Fortunately for you, your yogurt and tortilla project wasn’t your only hands-on exposure to doing a backsplash last weekend.

Nonna took a couple of pictures with her phone and sent them to me while Mommy and I were at church.

I have to admit, you actually looked like you knew what you you doing… definitely compared to me, at least.

Ah, at last, our backsplash project is finally complete!

That’s one major milestone for our family as we work our way closer to moving our way out of our townhouse and eventually into “a real house.”

A real house where there will be more room- in case we end up needing it.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Stereotype: Boys Like Playing With Sticks And Mud

May 29, 2013 at 9:54 pm , by 

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

You should know: There’s this stereotype that little boys like playing with sticks and playing in the mud.

As if you really are so magnetically drawn to finding ways to get dirty and make messes; whether indoors or outdoors…

As if every time I take you to the park during my lunch break, you bypass the actual playground so you can collect sticks to throw them into the water and “make soup…”

As if you were predestined, and even hard-wired in your DNA as a little boy, to be so predictable like that…

Oh, snap.

Actually, all those things are true about you.

In fact, you sort of slipped on that rock and fell in the water; getting your whole left foot wet.

That’ll be our little secret. I cleaned you up good enough that no one seemed to notice by the time I took you back to school.

I also won’t mention the part about (or show the pictures of) you running from one end of the park to the other with your stick raised in the air like it was helping you fly.

After all, you had your cool skull-and-crossbones sunglasses on. Or, as I considered them in that moment, your “safety goggles.”

It’s funny to me that during our Friday afternoon tradition of going to the park, you never really look happy: You look pretty serious most of the time we’re there.

But I know the value of “serious” Daddy/son play time. You and I need regular time together in which words are not necessary; just primitive caveman stuff.

Yes, technically, you’re playing; but specifically, you exploring and experimenting with nature.

I guess your theory is this: If the good Lord intended for us to play with toys, He wouldn’t have given us sticks and mud.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

 

 

 

My Son Finds And Plays With Kitty Cats For A Living

May 24, 2013 at 11:21 pm , by 

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

I recently took you by my office on a Saturday morning while Mommy was buying groceries.

After all, it seems a little weird that though your daycare is just on the other side of the red light, you’ve never really gotten to see what it’s like inside that brown brick building where Daddy works.

Once you saw my chair and computer, you knew just what to do… except for that darn “Ctrl+Alt+Del” screen.

It wasn’t long before you realized you wouldn’t have the opportunity to watch any monster trucks on YouTube, so you got bored and wanted to watch me fill a Styrofoam cup with water in the break room.

Then, you were ready to go. So we left. (Granted, it was nice having my co-workers comment on you being a handsome little boy.)

And that’s my story about what it was like taking my 2 and a half year-old to work.

While that random Saturday morning may have seemed uneventful at the time, it wasn’t. It served as a model for you to follow in your playtime.

This week you scooted your new Thomas the Train trike down the hall into the living room and declared, “I go to work!”

You parked your “monster truck” (Thomas the Train trike) near the closet, then stood up, trying to figure out what pretending to work is supposed to look like.

“Jack, what do you do at work?” I asked.

Your response, with a clever smile:

“I play with kitty cats!” You ran over to your favorite plush cat doll and lifted it above your head like Link finding one of the fragments of the Triforce, then announced, “I found one!”

So from what I understand, your job is not only to play with kitties, but more importantly, finding them like Easter Eggs.

I don’t think you quite understand yet what Mommy and I do all day at work. For all I know, I figure you assume it’s like a daycare for adults.

Well, actually… maybe in some ways it is.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

How My 2 And A Half Year-Old Sees A Rainbow

Take Me Out To My 1st Baseball Game

May 20, 2013 at 10:36 pm , by 

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

On Mother’s Day, Mommy and I took you to your very first baseball game. Coincidentally, the Nashville Sounds (our family’s home team) was playing the Sacramento River Cats (Mommy’s hometown team).

I almost have to use the word “miraculous” here to describe how long you lasted: You watched the game for 30 whole minutes!

Mommy and I were so impressed that as a 2 and a half year-old, you were able to pay attention to the game without wanting to get out of your seat for that long.

Seriously, you watched the game for 30 straight minutes!

Though, I should admit, you were due for a nap. So your drowsiness was countered by the fact that a real baseball game was going on right in front of you.

Not to mention, Ozzy, the mascot for the Nashville Sounds, came by to visit all the kids in the bleachers.

I’m pretty sure I actually convinced you that we had just visited him in the zoo the day before.

You didn’t really question why a giant cat who was creeping along the ground one day at the zoo, would be so friendly, walking upright and in uniform, and so happy to meet you the very next day.

But you rolled with it.

Then, you realized there was a whole stadium to explore. You were mesmerized (!) by the “tractors” (glorified golf carts) you found.

Mommy and I literally had to snap you out of your gaze on them:

“Jack? Jack! Let’s go…”.

And so you did. You discovered that the ramp of the deck served as a great “hill” for your red Hot Wheels car to race down.

Interestingly, that was the first toy car we ever bought you, exactly a year ago.

Now you have like 53 of them; many of which currently serve as the crushable cars for your monster trucks.

Mommy and I secured both ends of the ramp to make sure you didn’t escape us in all your excitement.

As for your “sock giraffe” that I bought Mommy on our honeymoon in New Hampshire nearly five years ago, you felt it was necessary he shared every adventure of the baseball game with you.

Along the way, you caught the attention of a sweet older man who was running the ticket gate:

“Hang on, little guy. I think I have something for you in the back.”

He handed you an official baseball that the Nashville Sounds had used for their practice.

As seen in the picture of you holding the ball, you were a bit confused on why you were getting a free gift that didn’t come wrapped in plastic or that didn’t require a trip to Target.

Or involve you earning it by going potty.

But again, you rolled with it.

I was thinking today about this. Something I really miss, as a 32 year-old man, is experiencing a version of life where everything is new and exciting and mysterious.

As for you, the kid, the boy wonder, you get to wake up to new adventures every day.

Dinosaurs are real.

A big cat lives in the zoo but serves as a baseball team’s mascot on the side.

Your imagination has no limits because the universe is truly magical.

I miss that.

It’s funny how these thoughts can stem from a baseball game.

I suppose that’s part of the reason that baseball games are so intertwined with American tradition and nostalgia.

Watching a baseball game at a stadium is like being taken through a portal where life seems both completely familiar yet completely brand new.

Maybe some would say it’s just a baseball game.

I have a feeling you understand where I’m coming from on this one.

Oh, and needless to say, you slept the whole way home… next to your baseball, of course.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

P.S. To see more pictures of your first baseball game, go to The Dadabase Facebook page and click on the picture folder, Zoo and Baseball 2013.