With a Fizzle and a Pop

Being New Year’s Eve tonight, we invited some friends and their kids over to share a meal and play. After we’d eaten and opened the lingering Christmas gifts, we went in search of some fireworks to watch. It was a cold, rainy night; and many venues had cancelled their fireworks displays due to the weather and pandemic. We thought The Gaylord Texan was going to put on a show still, so we headed over there to try to catch it.

We didn’t want to pay to see anything, so we camped out in The Great Wolf Lodge parking lot across the street. We waited. And we waited. But nothing. We had almost given up hope, when some aspiring guests at the lodge decided to put on their own mini display. It wasn’t much, just a few Roman candles and small fireworks, but it helped bring in the new year nonetheless, and the kids enjoyed it.

Γίτσες!

Whenever Troy sneezes, we say, “Γίτσες!” to him, which is the Greek way to say, “Bless you!” The direct translation is “to your health,” which I think encapsulates the spirit of what we mean. Normally, Troy would respond by saying, “Thank you,” and then we’d tell him, “You’re welcome.”

All pretty standard stuff, except that lately Troy has been having both sides of the conversation, thanking us and then telling himself you’re welcome too!

Troy: “Achoo!”

Me: “Γίτσες, Baby.”

Troy: “Thank you, dada. You’re welcome, Baby.”

Me: “Uhhhh…that was my line.”

But I guess he got tired of saying all of this every time, so he started using phrase contractions (it’s like taking two words and combining them into a blended mushed form, except he does it with whole phrases). He throws out the thank you altogether and goes straight to the end…with a twist.

Troy: “Achoo!”

Me: “Γίτσες, Baby.”

Troy: “You’re welcome, mama!”

Me: “I’m dada.”

Troy: “I said, ‘You’re welcome, mama!’”

Watch Your Football

We have been putting Troy in his nursery for his naps since my mother-in-law came to town. We had been putting him in the guest room, but since she’s occupying that room, we had to find an alternative. I hung a blackout curtain up to make it darker, and I carry his bed upstairs from our bedroom every day. So far, it’s worked out great, and he seems to have acclimated to his new digs easily enough.

Today, he woke up after only an hour and a half, and I was upstairs playing my football game on the PS3. I met him at his door, and I asked if he had a nice nap. He replied, “Yes, I did. I’m good. Thank you.”

He started heading downstairs, and I followed to make sure he was okay. He stopped at the stairs, held up his hand at me, and he said, “It’s okay, dada. You can go back and watch football. I’m going to go downstairs. You don’t need to come with me. You can go back and watch your football.”

I started chuckling that he knew I was playing football and that he was graciously giving me permission to continue to do so. He’s such a sweet and funny boy.

Baby Gorbilla

Tonight Troy was particularly energetic, so I decided to chase him around on the couches to wear him out. However, when I caught him, he turned on me, got into a crouch with his hands on the couch, and grunted. Feeling like I was being challenged for the herd, I squared off across from him and mirrored his crouch. Suddenly, he raised up and started pounding his chest and verbally gesticulating like a gorilla. So, I did the same thing. The challenge having been made and the response to fight having been reciprocated, Troy lunged at me. I easily caught him and slammed him to the couch. He squirmed loose, got into his crouch, and again beat his chest. I matched his stance and then I made the first move. I leveled him and then kissed all over his face and neck for good measure. Again and again, he challenged my leadership, and again and again, I put the challenger down.

Finally, sweaty and exhausted, Troy gave up and went to get some gorbilla food, which is what he and my wife call the dried plums she bought. He kept saying, "Do you see me, dada? I am a baby gorbilla!"

I'm not done!

We got pizza tonight for dinner, because the food we were cooking was taking too long. Troy didn’t seem to mind at all. We let him watch some TV while he ate, because…well, he was actually eating for a change. At one point he was so engrossed in the movie, that he paused in his consumption. So, I asked him if he was done eating. To which he replied, “Nooooo, I’m not done, dada!” Then, he once again began to Hoover the pizza off his plate.

His response was so dramatic and animated. He really put a lot of emphasis on the “No” part. It almost sounded like he managed to blend in an exasperated sigh coupled with an “Oh my gosh!” along with it.

Fig Newton of the Past

My mom and mother-in-law both came to town this week for Christmas. With his grandmothers around, Troy couldn’t care less if I exist or not. In fact, he regularly tells me to “shh” and “walk away.” I feel like the old toy pushed to the bottom of the toy box and forgotten…a relic of the past. I guess when you have such cool grandmothers, a “boring” old dada just can’t measure up!

Christmas in the Park

CC and I were out walking today, and we stumbled across a Christmas fair happening in the park. Not wanting Troy and my wife to miss it, we hurried home to get them. It was toward the end of the day, so most people had already gone and left. But we still got to enjoy everything.

The first thing Troy wanted to do was to pet the reindeer. They had two live reindeer, one happily munching on hay and the other acting like he was pulling a sleigh for a photo op. Troy was a little tentative at first to get near those beautiful, deadly antlers. But after I approached the reindeer with no fear and started petting him, then Troy had to do it too.

From there, we wandered through the booths selling their homemade goods and headed to the gazebo. And there standing next to the giant Christmas tree was a giant toy soldier on stilts! Up until this point, the tallest man Troy had ever seen was CC, but this guy would have towered over CC. Easily nine feet tall, Troy didn’t even come up to his “knees.” The toy soldier was juggling, but he was so clumsy that he kept dropping his props. Troy was quick to run over and pick them up for him, but every time he did, the juggler would drop another one.

After that, Troy wanted to ride the small train they had in the parking lot. He wouldn’t get on unless I got on too, so I folded myself in half and crammed my long legs into the little car. He seemed a little overwhelmed (or perhaps underwhelmed) by the experience, and he was content to get off the train as soon as it stopped. He much preferred to wave at the people riding on the train than to ride it himself.

It started to get dark, so we headed home. But we had to end the experience by running down the hill near the golf course, which Troy loved even when he lost his footing and fell. On a Christmas high, we headed home to enjoy some eggnog.

Eggnog Monster

I introduced Troy to eggnog today. At first, he looked into the cup and said, “That’s yucky, dada!” I laughed and told him it was very yummy, then I took a small sip. He was still hesitant, so I asked him to just dip one finger in the cup and try it. If he didn’t like it, I’d drink the rest. But he might just find something new and unexpected.

He still wasn’t sure, so I set the cup down on his little table and walked away. He tentatively made his way over, stuck his hand in the cup, and came out with one drop on his finger. He stuck it in his mouth with a sour look on his face. All of a sudden his face lit up with a smile, and he exclaimed, “That IS yummy, dada!” He then proceeded to chug the rest of the eggnog.

Moments later, Troy came walking into the kitchen with an egg nog mustache and asked me for some more. I might have created a monster.

What a Blessing...

Tonight, my wife and I were discussing the possibility of having another baby. She really wants to have a little girl, because she feels like Troy and I have this “guy” bond that she’s missing out on. She wants someone to talk make-up and get manicures…do girlie things.

I on the other hand like having one kid, and I love having a boy. Not that having a second child or a girl would be an issue, but I like being able to focus on one kid, not having to split my attention.

This is a tough crossroads, because it means one of will have to sacrifice, assuming that it’s God’s will that we have a second child (could be a moot point).

The subject brought out a lot of emotions in my wife, and she started crying. Troy, who had been entertaining himself with his toys on the floor, looked up with a sad expression on his face. All mirth and merriment from moments before was gone. He stood up, walked over to my wife, and he started to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks. He kept saying, “It’s okay, mama. It’s okay. Don’t cry.” When that only seemed to make her cry more, because she became overwhelmed with what a blessing Troy is, he reached his little arms out and gave her a huge hug.

It was so sweet that I started to cry too. He’s such an amazing little boy. How could we ever hope to get that lucky again?

Never Ceases to Amaze Me

I was perusing through some old posts on my blog, and I came across a post on June 12, 2014. In it I described the night that God spoke to me about becoming a father. He made a covenant with me and promised that I would be a dad.

When I think back on that now, I find it amazing. My wife and I didn’t even start trying to have a baby until the following Spring. That means that God made me a promise before I even knew I needed one!

The difficulty of our journey to get pregnant is no secret. It permeates many of the first posts in this blog. We endured pain and hardship, felt loss and disappointment, and experienced a loss of hope and a testing of our faith. We visited multiple doctors in multiple countries. We tried experimental procedures. We lost babies through miscarriage and illness. We battled with weight and age. But through it all that promise from God back on that June evening in 2014 stayed with me. It was my rock, my anchor, that I clung to when we faced the worst and wanted to give up. And my steadfast belief helped my wife keep going, not because she believed, but because she trusted that I did.

When I think about all of that in context, I’m amazed that God already knew what we’d have to go through. And He spoke His promise as a way to bolster my faith and strength, not for things we were enduring, but for things that were to come. It’s like He was saying, “It’s going to be hard. It’s going to downright suck at times. You’re going to be mad at me, and that’s okay. You’re going to be pushed and tested to the very last ounce of your being. You’re going to want to give up. But remember this…I’m telling you now. You will be a father. Be patient and trust me. It will happen. Maybe not in your timing, but in mine. Hold onto this promise. It will happen. Like I did for Abraham and Sarah, I will fulfill this promise in you.”

And He did. On June 12, 2018. Exactly four years to the day. Troy became a fulfillment of the promise…an answer to our prayers. And it was all worth it. We could not have asked for a better son.

God amazed me that first night. He amazed me on that night four years later. And He’s still amazing me now when I see the symmetry of how this all came about.

Advent Calendar

Our friend got Troy an advent calendar for Christmas. The purpose of an advent calendar is that it has 25 little doors on it. Each door is marked with a number to signify a day in December from the 1st to the 25th. Every day of the month, you’re supposed to open one of the doors and retrieve a trinket that reminds you of the holidays. In this way, you count down to Christmas, while having something to look forward to each day. Troy’s advent calendar is unique, though. Behind every little door is a dinosaur!

Needless to say, Troy has been in hog heaven. The hardest part was getting him to understand that he couldn’t open every door at once. After a few days, he got it. And now, he waits expectantly every morning to get a new dinosaur to play with during breakfast. It was a really cool idea.