Sam The Logician

It is amazing to me to see how Sam's mind is growing. He's never been slow; all the silly little tricks that are supposed to work on babies never worked on him (to my great dismay). He's starting to grasp surprisingly subtle things now, and while he's not cleverer than I am -- yet -- it never fails to amuse me when I see where he's going with things.

Example:

We were at Brad's house where he was putting the finishing touches on a gingerbread house. He decided that he wanted to eat the candy he was decorating with, and when I said no, he pleaded (of course) for one more.

"What do I get out of it?" I asked. He gave me a candy to eat too -- though not without trying to trade my fresh candy for his slightly used one. I thought it was clever enough on his part that I took the deal.

A few minutes later, he offered me another candy, this time out of the blue. As I was reaching for it, I noticed that the candy he'd snagged for himself -- because if I was eating one, he was allowed to, too -- was already most of the way into his mouth.

Example 2:

He's been on a hitting kick (ha!) lately. Julie and I have been trying very hard to drive home that this is unacceptable, but we're not sure if the message is really getting through. It's been particularly hard because Joey, at 6 months, pretty much flails randomly, resulting in frequent baby punches and kicks. Joey doesn't get in trouble, though. We've explained that this is because he's a baby.

Sam has decided in the past week or so that he is also a baby - probably due entirely to the fact that Joey gets his soother all day, whereas Sam is restricted to when he's sleeping. Today while I was getting Sam into his snow pants, he started punching me in the arm.

"Why are you hitting me?" I asked.

"It's ok if I hit you because I'm a little baby," came the reply.

Clever boy.

He's A Clever One

Joey is almost 6 months old, and just starting to do things, so Julie and I are starting again with baby sign language. We used some signs with Sam; they were fantastic. Being able to commmunicate before he could talk was an amazing thing, and I really think it helped him and us. So we're starting to use some signs with Joey (particularly "food"). Sam is wonderful; he's been really interested in helping feed Joey and started doing the signs with us, all of his own accord. I can't wait to watch him grow as a big brother.

Sam, of course, asked about the signs. Julie and I explained that some people, like babies or people who can't hear, use their hands to talk instead of their mouths.

"We teach Joey how to talk with his hands," I told him, "because his mouth doesn't work."

Sam though about it for a minute, then asked: "Is it out of steam?"

It Sure Is

I was putting on Sam's underwear this morning, and it got stuck on his little man tackle. I was reaching for his pants, and noticed him pulling at it and playing with it. (He must be a boy!)

"Why are you showing me your penis?" I asked.

"Because it's cool, man." he replied.

The Discovery

Sam and I went to take a shower a couple of mornings ago. I stripped him down, but before we could climb under the water, he started jumping back and forth between the two bathmats; jump, turn, jump, turn, jump, turn. I watched him for a minute or two, and then he stopped, looked up at me and said,

"I'm a superhero."

You sure are, son.

Joey - stage 2

Big happenings in Joey's world. First off, he's starting to eat solid foods. I'm a bit surprised by it, as Julie had said before that she wanted to wait until Christmas (which, technically, is not yet). Plus, we were very cautious with Sam. Of course, Joey is a second child; there's a natural tendency to assume we know what's going on with this one, so we're not as uptight.

Anyway, we've been giving him banana and squash (separately, not mixed -- though I don't think Joey would care much one way or the other), and he's really taking to it. His eyes go even wider than usual and he's desperate to be the one holding the spoon. I also don't think he's actually spat any out yet. I think he also likes having his own chair at the dinner table, as opposed to being on a lap or in his excersaucer.

There's really only one downside to all this, and I came across the precursors this morning (bright and early!). The last two months or so have been pretty sweet from a dirty diaper point of view: none from Sam, and anything from Joey just goes straight into the washing machine. I'm not looking forward to handling another human being's poop again.

Secondly, Joey's just starting to crawl - maybe it's the food? He's not a racing turtle yet or anything, but if we flip him onto his belly, the little knees come up and push off, and if we let him go, he actually goes places. I remember this stage with Sam, and if I recall correctly (and if Joey follows the same pattern), Joey will be barely mobile for a little while and then suddenly won't be where you left him.

I'm trying to figure out if this is a good thing or not. I mean, I know it is -- he has to do this eventually, or he'll be living here rent-free forever -- but it so easy when they stay put. Is his mobility really something I want to encourage? (Of course it is; it's just scary, too. And, to be perfectly honest, it's not just "what is he going to break?" scary, or even "where is going to end up?" scary. It's also "Hoo boy, taking care of two honest-to-goodness boys. Here we go..." scary. Then again, the sooner he can move, the sooner he can wrestle. :) )

The Joey Method

I've been fairly successful lately at putting Joey down to sleep; we've developed a method, you see. Some people like the Ferber method. I use the Joey method. I'm not going to lie to you; there's a lot of yelling. (Of course, that's the case with a lot of things that Joey does...)

The way it works is like this: he gets sleepy. I bring him up to his room, with dim lights and white noise. I wrap him up in his soft cozy blanket and hold him in my lap to rock him. Often, I tell him the story of Cinderella. I am soothing, gentle, sleep-inducing. For his part, he screams bloody murder and strains to get away from me, kicking his feet and arching his back. His one free arm (the other is in my armpit) whacks at my face and punches at my eyes. He sounds both horrifically frustrated and imbued with a sort of demonic fury.

We begin, you see, at fairly different places on the sleep spectrum.

His downfall is the soother. Or maybe The Soother. Rubbing the bridge of his nose makes his eyes close when he's calm, but The Soother is like a shot of morphine. I pop it in mid-howl, and he suckles it like a drowning man latching onto a tree branch. His flailing stops for a moment, and he is susceptible to the nose-rub. (I do not miss my chance.) He never stops making noise, though. His former high-volume banshee impression is now the sound of a puppy that needs to pee. I rub his nose and gently close the lids of eyes that are already defocussing.

It is at about this point that he realizes what I'm doing, and he leaps into action to punish me for my insolence. His eyes pop open, and his howls resume. He beats me about the face and ear (he can really only reach one from his angle). I remove the soother -- sorry, The Soother -- and let him yell for fifteen seconds or so. Then I give it back to him, and it's like it's the first time he's ever had it. Again, I quickly press my advantage, soporific-ing for all I'm worth.

The cycle goes on for about 10 minutes, with gradually less and less yelling, until finally the whimpering becomes murmuring, which becomes occasional grunts as his eyes roll back in his head. When he's quiet and limp, I place him delicately in his crib, where he will typically rouse a little and start waving both arms, maybe giving his fans one last show. I hold his arms down (careful not to let him grab my fingers -- I'd never get away) until he sleeps. For now.

It's a fairly consistent pattern at this point, and I've discovered that I can handle the howling when I know it's going to end soon. I'm pretty sure that this is a universal methodology.

I'm thinking of writing a book.

Reminiscing - part the second

Grab-bag of quotes from age 2-ish.

While at the doctor's office:

Me: ...because I'm clever.

Sam: You not clever, daddy. You mean.

M: Why am I mean?

S: Because you punch me in the face.

...*sigh* We still haven't really broken him of the habit of saying that people have hurt him in various ways (normally -- still -- punches to the face; he remains remarkably unmarked).

______________________

While reading a book at bedtime:

Sam: Mama, do goats eat grass?

Julie: Yeah, goats eat grass.

S: No, they don't!

J: Yes, they do.

S: No they don't!!

J: Umm... actually, they really do.

S: Mama, let's make a deal. Let's say... they don't. That's a good deal, mama.

______________________

While cleaning off his car seat in the garage:

(I threw a cheerio onto the garage floor)

Sam: Throw on the floor, daddy?

Me: No, you're right, I shouldn't throw it on the floor.

S: Throw that on the floor, daddy?

M: No, daddy will put it in the garbage next time we find one. (I pretended to find a cheerio in the dark on the garage floor, and slid into the driver's seat.)

...

S: Good listenin', daddy.

The Dentist

Well, we made it through, and with flying colours. I refer, of course, to Sam's first dentist's visit. It was Saturday at lunch, and he was a champion. While I had my teeth done, he let the dentist count his teeth, and he even let them polish a couple of them. The hygienist was remarkable with him, and he seemed to almost enjoy himself. Let's see if that continues.

Oh, and from the prep:

"The dentist will look at your teeth!"

"And my penis!"

"...um, no, just your teeth."

"And my bum!"

*sigh*

(To be fair, he's had some diaper-type rashes that we'd been to the doctor about, so I guess it makes sense that he would equate 'appointment' with 'looking at penis'. I guess.)

Too Smart For Their Own Good...

Every now and then, the little ones catch you in ways you don't expect.

While singing Sam "Hush, Little Baby", I got to the "...and if that looking glass gets broke..." and Sam looks at me and says, "Gets broken."

Yes, sir...

_____________________

Julie: What was in that glass?

Sam: My eggnog.

Julie: Oh, from lunch?

Sam: No, from eggs.

_____________________

I had to shovel after Sam went down the other night, and apparently the sounds of me shoveling and the garage door opening (I needed to put the car away for the night) woke him up, and while Julie was talking to him, he asked why the car needed to be put back into the garage.

"Because that's where the car sleeps," she said.

"The car is sleeping?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Julie answered.

"Mama," Sam intoned. "Cars don't have eyes."

Mama, cars don't have eyes.

Unbecoming Pride

I'm particularly proud of myself tonight; I put Joey to sleep. Not a huge deal, except that he decided that he wasn't happy being with and thought to put it to me in not-to-be-misunderstood terms. He started really howling before I started on Cinderella and stopped just before it ended; my version of Cinderella is ~20 minutes long. The key point here is that I out-lasted him. Turns out crying really hard is hard work, and makes babies sleepy... eventually. He's down now; if he wakes up, I'm letting Julie get him.

The Menagerie Grows

I enjoy the litany of animals that must be evicted from Sam's room every night. I also get a perverse kick out of seeing if I can get animals added to it. A few nights ago I asked if there was anything else, like maybe a gopher. Guess what? There was. The gopher is now a nightly visitor (though I'm pretty sure Sam doesn't really know what a gopher is).

Tonight's list was given to Mama like so:

"Mama, come here for a minute, I have to tell you something.

"Now, what is in my room?" *finger tapping lips*

"Hmm, let me think for a second... There is:

-two scary bears

-two teeny tiny little guys

-one big giant scary guy

-a gopher

-and another gopher

-and another gopher

-and another gopher

-and another gopher

-and another gopher

-and another gopher

-and another gopher

-and another gopher

-and another gopher

("That's a lot of gophers," said Mama.)

-and one more gopher.

"Is that everything?" asked Mama.

"Umm.... nope."

...at which point we got more scary bears and owls and foxes and guys (giant and not) than you could shake a stick at.

"And a cat."

Of course there was.

Taffy Lane

Sam, unsurprisingly, likes Christmas lights. We like to call them out as we drive by them. Well, originally I'd call them out. Then for a while, we'd both call them out. Now I'm not allowed to call them out (unless, as it turns out, he's crying; he told me that in the car today).

In any event, the Compound wanted to drive to Taffy Lane this afternoon. Taffy Lane is the street in Ottawa to go for Christmas lights. I think the residents may actually screen prospective home buyers before they're allowed to move in. There were some phenomenal displays (and very few tacky ones, much to my surprise), but ask Sam if he liked the lights and you'll be lucky to get a blank stare. The only thing he remembers is an inflatable helicopter -- complete with Santa and elves, of course -- with rotating rotors.

There's the true spirit of the season, I guess: the Santacopter.

The Pterodactyl

...we normally call him 'Joey'.

I know Sam went through a loud phase, especially with squawking, but Joey has starting yelling. I don't think that really conveys the noises he makes, though -- it's a kind of caterwaul-shriek-howl-growl thing. This is to say nothing of the grunting he's gotten into, where he sounds like an 82-year-old with prostate problems trying to pee. I'll give him this; he's got impressive volume. I'm pretty sure he's got my voice (sorry, kid), though I suppose he might just be yell-y.

As it turns out, trying to do... well, just about anything, is a whole lot more difficult when there's a third-party with the volume turned up to 11. I'm confident that the yelling will soon subside. Then there will be that blessed, quiet time before he learns to talk. Then there will be talking (and talking and talking and talking) and then our boys will move out of the house.

I'm allowed to be excited for that, right?

Snowfall

Yesterday was the first significant snow of the year (about 20cm), and, really, Sam's first snowfall that counts. I don't know where he picked it up (it honestly wasn't me), but the concept of throwing snowballs sprang forth fully formed, like from the brow of an Abominable Zeus. He "helped" me shovel; said help consisted of scooping up shovels of snow or picking up big snow chunks and throwing them at my legs, giggling maniacally most of the time. It was good times. :)

He helped me shovel this morning as well, and we spent probably 20 minutes playing in the snow in Brad's front yard when I picked him up. Something tells me that this is the way winter will go. I can't wait until we give him the sled we got him for Christmas.

I'm going to need warmer snow pants.

The 2 1/2 year old mind - part the next

His competitive streak is just starting to show (or maybe he's just learning from me; who can say?). During his now-nightly in-the-middle-of-supper trip to the bathroom, he likes to race Mama to the washroom. Two nights ago, the following exchange:

mama: I win!

Sam: Mama, can you go over there?

mama: Sure. Why?

Sam: So I can win!

_________________________

I was driving him home from Brad's house yesterday and we got to talking about something or other. He pipes up from the back seat, "Are you kiddin' me, daddy? Are you kiddin' me?" I said that I wasn't, actually, kidding him.

"Are you kiddin' mama?"

_________________________

This morning I was running late. Apparently that means that he's got to act up. I didn't know that that was a rule; I guess you learn something new with this whole parenting thing every day. Anywho, he needed to ride his bus to work (which, today, was in his tent). I asked him to come out and put his coat on. His response?

"Daddy, I'm doing some work with Gary. I can't get out of here right now."

_________________________

By the way, bedtime with the boys has been going much better for the last couple of days. I've managed to get Joey down, and Sam's been dropping pretty easy (though, admittedly, with a bunch of walking around and lullaby-ing). Having whole evenings back (and together) is mighty nice.

Christmas Decorating

This is the second year that we'll be staying at our own house for Christmas, and the first year that Sam is starting to get excited before the event. We're decorating, which is a bit unusual for us. Normally we're happy if we get the tree up. This year we've got perilously-hung outdoor lights (thanks, Matt), some indoor lights, the very full -- and extremely likely-to-be-destroyed-by-a-toddler -- tree, our little Christmas village, and a partridge in a pear tree. It's nice; it's feels very festive, even without snow on the ground.

Note that I'm not asking for snow. I'm perfectly fine with a winter where the low is -3C. A light dusting on the 23rd that lasts until the 27th would be just great.

We're trying to figure out what baking is going to get done this season. Somehow, I think it'll be pretty light. I don't figure we'll be missing anything, though, as the two mothers will be making their way up this holiday, and holiday treats are apparently some sort of female genetic imperative, and one that I particularly approve of.

I don't think we'll be making peanut butter balls this year -- sorry, dad -- as we're still not sure what Sam's allergy status is. He threw up the first (and only) time he had peanut butter, but it wasn't a worse reaction, so we're hopeful that when we try again in a year or two he'll be ok with it. Oh yeah, and they take forever to make (read: most of a day, which, when you have two littl'uns, is approximately forever).

The Santa hat and elf shoes have been dug out of the Christmas box, and both Sam and I have already worn both. I might dress him in them and take him out and about, just to see women's faces.

The Two Ts

It's been a while, but Julie and I are getting reacquainted with the two Ts.

The first is teething. Joey first tooth has come through (the bottom front) and the second, right next to it, is either through or the closest thing to it. He is, understandably, a bit upset about the whole thing. (I'm getting reacquainted with my absolute inability to cope with sudden wailing. I'm ok if something happens, or if there's a cry build-up, but to have an infant suddenly start howling at me is completely unnerving. Ok; end of unmanly admission.)

The second T is Tylenol, and there may actually be nothing better. The nice thing at the moment is that it doesn't seem to even need to take effect; Joey calms down whenever he tastes it. I've given him a little bit before bed for the last two nights (shortly after he started howling at me) and he slept for 8 hours (straight) the first night and 7 hours the next.

I'm trying to figure out how to convince Julie that drugging our child should become part of the bedtime routine.

The 2 1/2 year old mind - part the second

We went to the park the other day. Sam, predictably, decided that he didn't want to walk home.

"I can't walk," he said. I asked him why not.

"Because I don't have feet." Hm. Didn't see that one coming.

"What happened to your feet?" I asked.

"My feet went to the top of the tree, and there are nuts there, and my feet went in the nuts, and the squirrels came and ate my feet."

I carried him home.

______________________________

Our neighbour's dog, Shamus, got a thorn in his paw a couple of weeks ago, and Nancy was showing us where it was. At the dinner table last night we were talking about the thorn, and how Mr. Ian took it out. Says Sam: "Daddy, when you were a dog and you stepped on a thorn, I would take the thorn out of your paw."

I was feeling all warm and fuzzy, knowing that he cared about me and how I felt, and that he wanted to make me feel better. It would have been a beautiful moment... until he followed up with "...and when your Pepsi stepped on a thorn..."

Joey

Joey turned 5 (months) yesterday, and has definitely reached the point where I can be interested in him. Moms get to do stuff with babies right away; dads have to wait a while. (Don't get me wrong; we get to do stuff to babies right away, but for the first couple of months, they're just loud poop generators.)

He now laughs -- real, honest-to-goodness laughs -- and though right now he sounds kinda like Goofy with a throat infection, there's nothing quite like an infant laughing to put a smile on your face. He's also got one of the brightest, most infectious smiles I've ever seen. When that kid really goes for it, if you don't smile back, there be sometin' wrong wit' you.

Rolling is a work in progress. He's good rolling from front to back, but not so much the other way. Truth be told, I don't think he's trying too hard; I wonder if he'll be like Sam, where all of sudden he'll just decide to do something new and then do it, or if he'll take time to gradually learn new skills.

He likes his excersaucer and his Jolly Jumper - or at least he doesn't cry when he's in them and seem to enjoy poking at stuff. Maybe I should qualify this slightly; he normally likes his Jolly Jumper. Julie and Jen had him in it the other day for maybe 15 mins while Jen bounced him and burbled at him and made faces and did all the things that normally make him smile. I guess he stared at her, blank-faced, for the entire 15 minutes. Way to stick it to the Man, little one. Show those girls that you're unpredictable. Just make sure you always behave for me.

Reminiscing - part the first

Starting this blog when Sam is 2 1/2 means that I've missed some of things that happened when he was really little; I'd like to capture as many of those as we can remember.

______________________________

When Sam was very young (his first month or two), he was a cranky baby. He enjoyed screaming, I think, and would do so frequently, and extendedly. As new parents, Julie and I were often both exhausted and at wit's end -- I'm sure that those two things were related -- so we came up with a little sanity-saver for the times when Sam was driving us mental. Doctor Snorffles was born.

Doctor Snorffles was Sam's evil alter-ego. When we'd reached the end of our ropes and he was still screaming, or not sleeping, or peeing on us AGAIN, we'd look at each other and say, "It's Doctor Snorffles!" It was just silly enough to keep us laughing... and keep us from killing our only child.

I'm hope Sam will fully appreciate that one day; that his parents' sanity hung off a silly nickname.

______________________________

Before Sam was born, we'd heard a lot of stories of babies peeing on parents, especially boy babies. I think we won this one; the first time Sam peed as we were taking his diaper off, he only got himself. In the face. (We haven't told him that yet; we're saving it for the wedding.)

______________________________

Julie and I are both big proponents of baby sign language. We think that it helped Sam immensely in terms of a) being able to communicate, and b) avoiding a lot of the frustration that little ones can feel because they can't communicate. He started signing at about 10 months -- and he hasn't stopped talking since.

One day at the park, a dog licked him on the leg. He was so excited! When we got home, he eagerly told both Mama and I (who had both been with him) about the dog (*pant, pant*) that licked his leg (points to leg). He told his Aunt Jenny. He told us again. He told virtually everybody he met. For months.

Tannie commented on it the next time we went back home, saying that he'd been telling that story for months. Julie answered, "Of course he has. It's the only story he has to tell."

How things have changed.

The Ballad of The Scary Guys

... or, as most people know it, bedtime.

Some time ago, Sam decided that there was a scary bear in his room when we laid down to sleep. (I have no idea where this came from, but am discovering that that doesn't really matter... ) We scooped him up, deposited him outside, and bedtime continued as usual. The one scary bear has somehow transformed into a big enough multitude that part of the bedtime ritual has become The Listing of The Scary Guys. Tonight's crowd was:

• two scary bears
• two scary guys
• two tiny little scary guys
• one big giant scary guy

(Missing tonight were two scary foxes, two owls -- sometimes scary, sometimes not -- and some number of scary wolves, ranging from one to six. Oh, and the occasional cat.)

We've moved through a number of methods for evicting the spooky posse, including things like throwing them out the window, sending them to Miss Nancy's house for juice, scaring them away, or giving them a kiss and hug and letting me take them out with me. Tonight, though, we tried something new.

We ate them.

Because that way, they don't come back.

Fingers crossed for tomorrow night. I'm not really hopeful, but I am a little bit hopeful...

Sam's First Crush

I forgot; last Sunday's church service was a pretty big deal. Sam and I went to the children's service, which is an adjunct to the adult service, where there are simplified readings and colouring. There was also Alex, the nice young lady who ran the little kid's service. I've never seen a two-year-old smitten before; it was cute.

After we rejoined the main congregation, all he wanted to do was find her, and sit with her, and play with toys with her. (He's still at the stage where it takes a good 20mins to warm up to anybody -- well, almost anybody, apparently.) After mass had ended, we had to go the coffee-and afterwards because Alex had told Sam she'd play with the toys there with him. We got to the church hall and Sam waited next to the toys -- not playing with them -- for almost 10 minutes until Alex got there, at which point he happily played with her, totally ignoring me for what might have been the first time ever. He's very excited to go back to church to see her again.

I've asked her to move in with us.

Freedom!

Joey is 5 months old today; Joey got his own room last Monday. What does that mean? It means Julie and I can do things in the bedroom that we haven't been able to do in ages. Wild things. Crazy things. Things like... turn on the damn light while we get ready for bed.

It's heaven.

The 2 1/2 year old mind - part the first

We've been having some troubles getting Sam to sleep these days. It's not that he won't fall asleep once he decides it's time, it's that the "leaving his room" process is taking 40mins+. We've instituted a Star System; he gets a star when he's a good boy, and when he gets 5 stars, he gets a treat.

Bedtime tonight was his shot at his first gold star treat. Julie told him that, if he was good, he'd have a treat waiting first thing in the morning.

"It could be anything!" she told him.

He answered excitedly, "It could even be... umm... umm... sour cream!"

___________________________________

Yesterday was Sam's first snow -- at least, the first snow that he was really aware enough to understand. He was hopping - literally - with excitement as we got him ready to go to daycare, and absolutely had to have his boots, snow pants, winter jacket, toque and mittens so that he was ready to play in the snow.

Total accumulation? About a quarter of an inch.

___________________________________

Sam and I went to church for the third time (I thought about making that number bigger -- hi mom -- but I think you get in more trouble for lying about church) last weekend, and hoo boy...

After the Children's Liturgy, we rejoined the main congregation for the rest of mass. Just after the final prayer and before the dismissal there was a nice pregnant pause. (Can anybody see where this is going?)

"Daddy, do mans have boobies?"

Heaven help me...

Inauguration

Welcome aboard, oh ye weary travelers. In ten years, I'll want to remember that my oldest boy's favourite food when he was two and a half was snow; I'll want to remember specifically when my youngest said his first word. Let's see if this lasts ten days, let alone ten years. I hope it will; I know it will be worth it.