Skin the Cat

I don’t know why, but every time I want to take Troy’s onesie or shirt off, and I want him to raise his arms, I say, “skin the cat.” Somehow, he learned exactly what that means, and he obediently raises his arms above his head. It’s strange, because I’ve always said it, and he’s always raised his arms as far back as I can remember. I never showed him what I wanted, he just did it. I remember my mom saying it to me when I was little too. Maybe all kids are born with this knowledge imprinted in their DNA.

I’ve never really liked the imagery of that phrase, especially with a cat, but that’s how those things work. Somehow a phrase comes into existence and then is passed down from generation to generation, until it may no longer make sense. Seems like some variant with another animal that is commonly eaten would make more sense, like a rabbit.

The Sweet Tea

Tonight, CC gave Declan a sip of his sweet tea, and after that he was hooked. Declan kept walking by, eyeing the cup, and trying to figure out how to get it away from CC. He was testing CC's sensitivity by tugging on the cup from various angles and with different force to see when CC would notice. Frustrated by his inability to pull one over on his father, he seemed to give up.

Later, CC was sitting on the couch, and he looked over to see Declan sitting in his play pen shaking and sweating. He asked him, “What’s wrong, bud?” Declan said, “Dad, I just need a hit of sweet tea, I can’t take it, man. Just one sip, please, to get me through the next five minutes.” I think CC has an addict on his hands!

Sesquipedalian - Part 6

This will be my last post most likely about Troy's vocabulary. It's getting so extensive that I can barely keep up. He has no issues repeating most things he hears, and he immediately attributes the word to an object or an idea. His pronunciation isn't always perfect, but it's usually close enough and in context that we can understand what he's trying to say. His sentences are still basic at best with maybe a subject and verb. Something like, "Dino gone." But he'll get there. He's shown an amazing aptitude to pick language up, so I'm not worried about it.

So, here's the list in no particular order and without any further explanation.

Hallelujah = ha-eh-ooh

Beans = beash

Orange = urnge

Help

Dump

Car

Rhino

Hug

Bumpy

Cream = keeme

Hawk = hoke

Acorn = ah-corn

Green = geen

Santa = ho, ho, ho

Milk = melk

Good

Yum

Juice

Dragon = rag-gun

Cake

Eat

Spoon

Buffalo = bahf-a-low

Backpack = back-kack

Goose

Mouse

Phone

Water = what-ah

Walking with My Son - Part 2

Today, I took another meandering walk with Troy, just the boys. He insists on taking the stroller with us, even though he has no intention of riding in it. He likes to drunkenly drive it down the sidewalk, rolling from one patch of grass to the other. At some point, I usually end up pushing it while he tries to run away along the sidewalk.

When we got near the bridge over the creek, Troy wanted to stop and dig in the dirt. So, we sat down on the sidewalk, picked up sticks from the grass, and we started digging in the dirt. People were walking around us, looking disapprovingly, and maybe just a bit curiously and jealously, at us playing without a care in the world. Nobody expects a grown man to be playing in the dirt, especially right in the middle of the sidewalk, but you can get away with it if you’re with a two-year old.

Helio Rides Again

When my wife opened the door of the passenger side of her car tonight, after picking Troy up from daycare; the little munchkin climbed into the car, over the console, and into the driver's seat. He then proceeded to pretend that he was driving, kneeling in the seat and looking over the steering wheel, as he moved it back and forth...just like he's seen mama do a hundred times before (well, the driving part, not the kneeling in the seat part). 

Finding it adorable, my wife decided to switch on the auxiliary power to the car, so all the lights and electronics would come on. Troy was in heaven! He pushed the button for the radio, tuned it to his favorite Christian-music station, turned up the volume, and bumped along to the music while he raced through city traffic. He even adjusted some of the settings through the on-board computer interface, much to my wife's frustration.

When my wife tried to get him to come out and get in the back, Troy refused to go. Just hanging on to the steering wheel, ready to ride. It was almost like he was saying, "I got this mama, you can ride in the back this time." I think all of that driving the Little Tikes car around the playground has started to go to his head. But we also may need to start looking for a Driver's Ed course to sign him up for, because I don't think we're going to be able to keep Helio Castroneves off the road much longer.

Short Man

My wife tried a new threat on Troy tonight, when he once again was being overly-picky with his dinner. She said, “If you don’t eat all of your food, then you’ll never grow to be as big as JJ Watt. At best, you’ll only be as tall as your dada.” As if being 5’9” is some sort of punishment! I immediately took offense.

When did I become the standard for short men?! Why would it be a bad thing for Troy to be my height? I’ve turned out ok. I have a beautiful wife. I have an amazing son. I’m blessed beyond belief. Troy could do worse if this is what he’d get for ONLY being 5’9”. I mean sure I have to get a chair out and stand on my tiptoes to reach stuff at the top of the cabinet, but I hardly think that's a bad life, if that's the worse thing you have to deal with.

No!

Everything with Troy lately has become a struggle. He fights us about every little thing, testing our patience and pushing the boundaries to see how far he can go before we snap. I hate to say that it’s not far anymore. We’re so emotionally drained that we are on edge. It doesn’t take much to push us over.

The latest and perhaps worst thing is food. He absolutely refuses to eat anything. We know he’s got to be starving, but still he pushes our hands away and says, “No!” We’ve tried new food and food he used to like, nothing works. Something he might have eaten yesterday, he’ll refuse today. This morning I tried to feed him two different kinds of pouches and a yogurt, but he refused it all. So, he had no breakfast at all. We sent him to school hungry.

We know we have to pick out battles with this age, but the food one is a hard one to lose. It’s hard to watch your son not eat, and you think to yourself that you’re failing as a parent. That he’s harming himself, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

It’s even harder when he can’t express himself clearly enough. Is he not hungry? Does he not feel well? Does he not like the food? If we knew the issue, we could adjust. But when you’re flying blind, all you can do is crash and hope to make it through the wreckage.

Walking a Mile in His Shoes

I sat down to dinner tonight and kicked off my house shoes to let my feet breathe a little. Finding my shoes in a discarded heap next to the couch, Troy decided that the only sensible thing to do was to put them on. I mean shoes are made to be worn, after all, and shoes that have no feet in them have no purpose. Not being able to stand the idea of shoes without a purpose, he slid his little feet into their soft warmth and took them for a sliding, shuffling spin around the kitchen. It was adorable that he wanted to be like dada. It was not adorable that the shoes fit him so well!

Disobedient Feet

After being stuck in the house with a cold for three straight days, Troy appears to be bored out of his mind. Tonight, I caught him attempting to build a fort, or a spaceship, or something out of the chairs from his little table. The funniest part was watching him try to line them up so meticulously. He'd get the feet on one side lined up, only to have the feet on the other side pull apart. Then, he'd line that side up again, only to have the feet on the first side pull apart. Back and forth, getting more and more frustrated at the stupidity and audacity of these disobedient chair legs. It was almost OCD. Eventually, he gave up and cast the chairs to the side to deal with their justified and deserving fate of being ceremoniously ignored.

Souping Up His Ride

I taught Troy about souping up his ride today. He was riding around on his little three-wheeler, and I took the cardboard wrapping paper tubes that we use to fence with and slid them onto his handle bars. They fit perfectly, while sticking out ludicrously to both sides. At first, he pulled them off, unhappy that I would dare touch his precious bike. But then he was curious enough to slide them back on himself. 

He looked like he had curb feelers on his bike as he rode around; and the frayed cardboard tubing brushed against the couch, the cabinet, the wall...whatever he was riding next to. I guess he liked the look, because whenever I tried to pull it off, he'd immediately grab it from me and slide it back on again!

Ahhh Chooo!

Tonight, my wife sneezed. And when I didn’t immediately say anything, Troy walked into her office and said, “bess you.” It was quite sweet and polite. My wife was completely taken aback, because Troy has never uttered those words before. We didn't even know he knew them, because when we tell him "bless you" after he sneezes, we say it in Greek.

Baby-Polar

The last couple of days, Troy has thrown a meltdown temper tantrum whenever we attempt to put him in the car seat. In fact, before he leaves in the morning, all we have to do is mention that it’s time to leave, and he starts screaming and crying. By the time we attempt to actually put him in the car, he’s slapping and kicking as well. It's strange, because he can be perfectly amiable all morning up until that point. Then, the maelstrom is unleased. We have no idea what’s going on with him. We thought maybe something happened at daycare to make him not want to go anymore, but he’s started doing it when my wife tries to pick him up from daycare too. It’s bizarre. I feel bad for my wife, because she has to listen to it in the car both directions. The only remedy that she's found to calm him down is to play music. Preferably, Katie Perry's "Fireworks," so he can chime in at the "boom, boom, boom" part.

Teamwork

We received a photo from the daycare today, showing Troy pushing another boy in his class around in a car on the playground. Apparently, they take turns, one pushing and one riding, so that each gets a chance to drive. And they do this every day now. I guess they could move the car themselves, but teamwork makes it an easier and better experience. It also explains why Troy is more apt to push his Land Rover around than drive it. It's good exercise, though, especially on his thighs and calves. He'll be used to pushing a football sled! Or pulling a semi on The World's Strongest Man, if he decides to go that route instead.

Snap!

Troy’s dexterity is amazing. When he’s ready to eat now, he walks to the high chair and clips the straps together. I didn’t even know his little fingers could manipulate the locking mechanism, but he figured out how to line it up and slide the one part into the other until it snaps. Thankfully, he hasn’t figured out how to undo it yet. Or else he’d be swan-diving out the side and splat onto the floor. With his new fondness for climbing, I'm also waiting for him to climb up into the tall kitchen chair, sit down, and snap the straps around himself.

Okay?

We met with Troy’s teacher at the end of the semester to get an update on his progress. One of the things that she noted was that Troy liked to literally run other boys over and knock them to the ground. She said that he wasn’t being mean, he was just playing...very roughly. She said that the other kids were stunned by his behavior and didn’t know what to do about it.

I confessed that it was actually my fault, because Troy and I wrestle and play rough. And when we do, he often tries to run me over too. She said that it was perfectly understandable, because fathers wrestle with their sons. But that we need to also teach Troy to be gentle and caring to other people too. He needs to learn that if he knocks someone down, then he needs to check on them to make sure they’re okay.

So, now when he knocks me over and hurts me, like maybe an errant foot or hand to the unmentionables or the face, my wife will say, “You hurt dada, go see if he’s all right.” And Troy will come over, gently place his hand on my shoulder or back, and ask, “Okay?” I’ll reassure him that I am, and thank him for checking on me. Satisfied, he will then run me over again. I’m beginning to think that he’s just checking on me to see if he succeeded in knocking me off, or if he needs to give it another go!

Walking with My Son

After my mom left, I took Troy out for a walk. I thought he was going to want to run off some energy, but he surprised me when he just wanted to take a leisurely walk instead. So, we enjoyed the perfect evening weather, learned about holly berries, listened to a red bird sing a beautiful song, watched an ant crawl down the side of an electrical box, moved grass around with a stick, and waved at a plane that flew overhead. I make him hold my hand when we cross the street, but in several places, he just kept holding it, content to have contact as we walked side by side down the street.

When we finally started back toward home, he got tired and reached up for me to pick him up. So, I carried him the mile back to our house, while he wrapped his little arms around my neck and laid his head on my shoulder. It was a perfect time with my son. It was so laid back and relaxing, and I just enjoyed being in the moment with him.

Bye, Bye, Gammy

We invited my mother up for the weekend. We haven’t let anyone in the house since COVID started, so this was a huge concession on our part. But we know how much she’s been dying to see Troy. He’s changed so much in the last year, and she felt like she was missing out. It’s a holiday weekend, so we thought this would be the best time, so she could maximize her time with Troy.

We assumed that he’d take a while to warm up to her, since he hasn’t seen her in almost a year. But he took to her right away. He was eating up the extra attention and having someone new to play with. I enjoyed having someone else to share the load with, so I wasn’t worn out all the time! She eagerly got down on the floor to read a book or play dinosaurs with him. She would traipse upstairs with him to chase him or push his dump truck around picking up things in the back. We even took him to the playground to play. Troy loved playing with his Grammy.

I tried to give her some alone time with him and not hover, so they could bond. My mom was great with him, although I suspect her having the best night sleep three days in a row had a lot to do with him wearing her out! When it was time for her to go back home, both of them got emotional. My mom didn’t want to leave, and Troy couldn’t figure out why she was going. After she drove away, signing “I love you” out the driver’s side window, Troy kept reacting, “Bye, bye, Gammy...bye, bye.”

Pacifierless - Part 2

Troy went to sleep for a second night in a row without a pacifier. I’m encouraged by the trend. We’ll see if it sticks.

UPDATE: He made it the entire night without the pacifier. Woo hoo! Now, we just have to keep it going until it becomes a habit.

Pacifierless

Tonight was the first night that Troy went to bed without a pacifier. He didn’t ask for the pacifier, and we didn’t offer it or remind him just to see if he’d ask. He went straight to sleep, no issues. I’m hoping it’s the beginning of him deciding to wean himself off his addiction to that little rubber drug. But I guess we’ll see. This is how the daycare eventually got him off it for his naps, so crossing our fingers that we can replicate this at home.

UPDATE: He woke up whining in the middle of the night, and the only thing that would calm him down was the pacifier. Oh well. Baby steps.

Dino, Dino, Dino

Troy is so obsessed with the dinosaurs that my brother got him for Christmas. He’ll take them to bed with him, and we’ll sneak them out of his crib after he’s asleep. And then the first thing he asks for when he wakes up is his dinosaurs. He won’t even let us change his diaper until he has one in his hand. Sometimes, he doesn’t even make it until he wakes up, and he’ll be talking about the dinosaurs in his sleep.

His favorite by far is the Spinosaurus. He likes to run his finger down it’s spine. I guess he likes the way it feels. The other day, we needed to drop some things off at somebody’s house, and Troy refused to leave the house without his Spinosaurus. Completely content going down the road with a snack in one hand and a dinosaur in the other.

The Flying Furry Rodent

Tonight, when Troy and my wife got home, Troy was not ready to leave the car. When my wife wasn't looking, he crawled back into the car and over to the driver's seat, standing up and turning the steering wheel. He was making car engine sounds as he motored down the Autobahn or through a busy street in pursuit of an international spy. He was having a blast, pushing buttons and making adjustments to improve the performance of his automobile. All the while, smiling and laughing at how "grown up" he was now, driving like a flying furry rodent from a fiery pit of despair, just like his mother!

Independence

Troy has decided that he's so big and independent now that he no longer needs me to help him into his car seat. As soon as I open the door, he starts climbing up into the car, turns around, and plops down into the seat. Then, he hands me the seatbelt straps and waits for his servant to strap him in, like the little prince that he is. I have tried to help him on several occasions, and he starts yelling at me, "No, no!" It may take him longer, but he's determined to do it himself.

Stuck

Trying to capitalize on the still lovely weather, we decided to take Troy out to the park again today. We took him to some different playgrounds, so he could have fun with different aparatuses...aparatusi...whatever, you get the point. The first park had potential when we saw that they had a cool, looping slide. Unfortunately, Troy was a little apprehensive of it, probably because it was completely enclosed, and he couldn't see where he was going. So, I decided to go down first to show him that everything was okay. And I got stuck. Yep, the slide was too narrow around the turns, and I got stuck. So much for showing him that it was okay. And while I writhed and struggled to get out of the slide, my wife decided that the only sensible thing to do was to film it.

Traumatized after seeing his father forcefully extracted from the slide by the fire department, we decided to try a different park. We had better luck with the second park, as it was situated near a pond with a fountain and ducks. So, not only did Troy get to play on the playground, but he got to talk to the ducks too! I did not go on this playground, still gun-shy from the last experience.

Mama's Little Helper

My wife was making an apple upside-down cake today (she'll tell you it's a pie, but it's clearly not round). Besides, she put the crust on the top, baked it, and then flipped it upside-down to get it out of the pan. So, obviously an apple upside-down cake. Anyway, I'm right, she's wrong...so it shall be written, so it shall be done.

Troy, nosey little munchkin that he is, was standing next to her, grabbing the counter and trying to pull himself up to a better vantage point. Frustrated and whining because he still couldn't see exactly what she was doing up there without him, my wife pulled the stool over for him. So, she carefully poured the crust batter into the pan, while Troy (up on his tiptoes) scrutinized her every movement, offering babbling advice when he felt it necessary.

It was the cutest little thing to watch the two of them together.

Favorite Parent

It was a little chilly in the house this morning, so I was sitting under a blanket, watching church. When my wife sat down on the couch, I asked her if she wanted to share the blanket, being big enough for four people. She said, "No, I'm okay, but thank you for asking." So, I wrapped the blanket tighter around me to get maximum toastiness.

And that's when Troy came over and forcefully pulled the blanket off of me, drug it across the floor to my wife, and put it on her legs and feet. When I tried to object, he gave me a dirty look and proceeded anyway. I guess it doesn't matter if dada is okay, as long as mama is taken care of. I guess we know who his favorite parent is!

Cock Lick

I came into the room this afternoon, and Troy was happily leaning against the couch, watching TV. He had something pinched between his little fingers and every once in a while, he'd put it in his mouth. Curious, I asked him what he had, and he turned to look at me, face covered in something dark and brown. He smiled at me and said, "cock lick."

I stopped, taken aback by his words. Corrupted mind that I have, I couldn't get past the literal words he had said to try to understand what he was really trying to say. But then I started to say it out loud, repeating it more quickly, letting the words blend together, and I understood. He had chocolate.

He was slowly indulging on a piece of brownie that my wife had made the day before. Savoring the sweetness as it rolled over his tongue, he was actually salivating, little chocolate dribble sliding down his chin. How could I possibly allow my mind to think something so horrible when it came out of a mouth so innocent and sweet (pun intended)?!

The Shirtless Stand-Off

After his bath tonight, we decided to put Troy in a shirt and pants instead of his usual onesie. We were just trying it out, and it became quickly apparent why we had resisted doing so sooner. Armed with the knowledge that his top was no longer secured beneath him, Troy couldn't stop running around pulling his shirt up over his head to show off his chiseled abs and muscled chest. Or at least I imagined that was what he was thinking because he seemed to be taunting me, goading me into a shirtless stand-off to see who had the better body.

I couldn't bring myself to crush his dreams like that. What kind of father would I be if I wiped that beautiful smile off his face?! So, knowing that he obviously has the better body and that he'd only be ashamed of the potato-like quality of his old man, I put on three sweatshirts and hid in the closet. I received no sympathy from him. He stooped to texting me pictures and videos of his physique, so that I could wallow in shame in my dark prison.

I guess I know what my New Year's resolution needs to be...to be more like Troy in both physical perfection and confidence.