Saturday morning we went to our music class again. This time was different for two reasons: first, a friend from prenatal class (and her daughter) took the same class, so the munchkin had a familiar face to run around and hold hands with. Second, we were working without a net. (For those of you who are not regular readers of my wife's blog, we are in the process of potty training.) That's right folks, we were in a library, on a carpet, without a diaper. To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the year. Nonetheless, we went for it.After class, I decided we would take the opportunity to use the potty (we're still at the "you're going to sit on it and try, I don't care if you say you don't have to go" stage). Thinking that the door in the classroom lead to a single unit washroom, we entered. Instead we discovered a hallway with a men's room and a women's room. Great. So, I picked up my little girl, hoped no one was using the urinal, and got into a stall. We got all set up (we have a folding portable child seat insert) and she began to do her business. Then, it happened. The other stall (the one right next to ours) became occupied. And it wasn't occupied by a refined gentleman with manners and couth. No, it was occupied by a man who must have eaten a bean burrito washed down by a beer for breakfast. In between his serenade, my daughter asked me, "Daddy, what is that man doing?" I just explained he was going potty. I didn't want to make it any longer than necessary.
Because I'm a After a trip through Toys R Us and a run through the play area, we had another successful potty visit (with an unfortunate hand-dunk in the toilet while wiping). Two for two, people. Two for two.
As we were walking through the food court, the munchkin saw another child with a balloon. She asked me if she could have one, and I said we would try to find one later. Just then a young boy (maybe seven years old) comes up to me and says that he heard her, and if she wanted his balloon, she could have it. It was so sweet (even though the munchkin completely clammed up and wouldn't say thank you to him). I smiled at his mother and hoped that someday I'd have her experience.
We arrived home and I learned that the Lions had selected a wide receiver. Calvin Johnson or not, this is the fourth one in five years. How long before Millen realizes that to "receive" means someone must throw the ball? But I digress.Saturday afternoon, MTM and the munchkin did a little baking (brownies, if you must know) while Daddy took some time watching the
That evening, I gave the munchkin a treat and took a bath with her. She loves this because a) there's someone else in the tub with her, and b) she gets to go in our two person soaker tub. So we're in the tub, playing with bath paints, when she decides she wants to "colour Daddy". Now, to explain to those of you (most of you, probably) who don't know, I have this on my left shoulder:

She took the paint and started filling in the sun with blue (the yellow didn't show up well on my pasty white skin). And then she did something that made Mommy rather unhappy: she asked for a blue sun on her left shoulder. So, there we were, Daddy and daughter with matching blue blobs on their upper arms.
On Sunday, we spent the bulk of the day at home, hanging around the house. At one point, "hanging around" involved spinning in circles (on the hardwood) while wearing only our big girl panties and a yellow hat that covered our head.However, we also had one of those
To explain: the expression ("fire in the hole") is a military term, usually used to warn one's allies that a grenade has been thrown and they should duck for cover. It was introduced to the munchkin the Curious George movie. After that, Daddy began using it whenever he would throw dolls from the first floor up to the second.We went to MTM's friend's place for dinner. The munchkin calls her Auntie, so she (the friend) tries to be an Auntie. What did she serve for dinner? Make your own pizzas. Except that the munchkin not only made her pizza, she made everyone's pizza. This made Auntie a very popular person who got lots of cuddles afterwards.
She also did "Fire in the hole" at the dinner table with her washcloth.
But she wasn't done there, oh no. What was dessert? Make your own sundaes. The munchkin probably had half the can of whipped cream, and way more Smarties than any two year old should be allowed to have. Nonetheless, it was fun for everyone (even if the munchkin didn't sleep the whole 40 minute drive home and then had several meltdowns between the tooth brushing and getting to bed).Finally, I usually don't talk about the morning, but this one was too sweet. I descended the stairs after my shower to find my wife and daughter on the loveseat watching television. As soon as she saw me, the munchkin said, "I saved a seat here, Daddy, just for you." I just about melted. And then when I sat down she said, "Please stay here Daddy," and I felt even worse about going to work than I usually do.
Sigh.
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Last year at this time, we (
My parents purchased this bike for her for Christmas. In its beginnings, it was a rocking bike, with the red handle (seen in the photos) underneath the wheels. She would rock so ferociously that she could travel the length of our room in minutes (given the sliding effect). About a month ago, we flipped the rocker up (into the handle position) and let her go to town around the house. For her birthday, my parents gave her a helmet (not that we think she needs it for this thing, but more for a "good habits" thing).
On Tuesday, however, things changed. I arrived home to find her not only moving the thing by herself (although not with pedals so much as pushing it "Flintstones" style) but also following directions. Seriously people, my wife was there saying things like "turn left sweetie" and, wouldn't you know it, she turned left (although sometimes she still got confused; she was correct more than half the time). Plus, as she rode around (and around... and around...) the cars, she demonstrated amazing control: she was doing rolling turns and adjusting her direction on the fly. It was a sight to behold.
We told her that she and I were going together, and that Mommy was staying home (since she has recently been more attached to my wife than usual). She responded with a lot more enthusiasm than was expected. In fact, as we traversed the parking lot, we had the following exchange:
Following the library class, I had arranged with my wife that we were going to the mall to shop for Mother's Day cards and have some lunch (just my daughter and I). To make the day "special" I decided to rent one of the mall strollers that she always asks to ride in instead of our usual Graco. She was so pleased to have the opportunity that she was hugging (and kissing - eww... that brought out the antibacterial wipes pretty quick) the bear that formed the seat.
After our errand was done, I figured we'd do whatever she wanted to do.
We then went through Toys R Us, where, unlike Mommy, I would bring her the things she pointed to on the shelves. She would play with them for a few minutes, then put them back and move on. (I would later learn that "we" are trying to discourage this habit. Oops.)
We sat down with our burgers and fries and had a nice lunch while sullen hippy kid occasionally looked in our direction. That's one more place I'm no longer welcome, I thought to myself.
Sunday ended up being less than eventful, thanks to the 

In those early days, my daughter and I had a little routine after work (I left before she woke most mornings). We would play or sing or read for a bit, and she would eventually pass out in my arms, and we would nap together on the couch. To be clear, I wasn't just "trying to bond"; I genuinely loved the time we spent together.
Later that spring, I broke my ankle and was home for two months. During that time, we rekindled our daddy-daughter relationship, and found a new understanding for each other. And then I returned to work, and the status quo returned, where I was rarely even a suitable replacement for Mommy.
After that we hit the local mall for a bite to eat and then for Mommy to return some items. I also started a little information gathering about pricing and availability for Project PSP (a not-so-secret, not-so-covert operation to convince my wife that I should get a PSP, or Playstation Portable, for my birthday in mid-June). Don't worry, dear reader, I will keep you informed about the status of Project PSP as new developments occur.
Saturday was at best restful and uneventful. I slept in (thanks to the wonder that is my wife) and then spent the morning lounging around the house. Following a busy morning of sleeping in and lounging, I ate some lunch (prepared by my wife) and proceeded to nap while the munchkin napped (and apparently after she got up, I discovered as I descended the stairs). We did get out of the house to hit the grocery store for some supplies for dinner (and to check out the lobster tank), so that was a little less lazy, I suppose.
That evening, my wife and I settled in to watch
In actual fact, the reason for the shrieking was that my wife got the mother of all leg cramps. (In exchange for permission to tell you the above story, I am obligated to tell you that her calf felt like it had a grapefruit in it, which all of you will agree is not as interesting and far less funny than a ferret.)
Once we sold her on the idea, we drove down to the subway station nearest our house and parked. As we descended the steps we explained that we would be riding a train (a first for the munchkin). She was quite enamoured with the idea, and when we finally got on the subway she was beside herself. She smiled and waved and chatted up the car ("I'm widin' the twain.") People couldn't help but smile at her. She couldn't help but move back and forth between Mommy's seat and Daddy's seat.
We actually made it to the sixth inning, far beyond either my wife's (first) and my (third) prediction. When it became clear we were leaving, the munchkin melted down (thanks to it being a good two hours past her nap time), but was asleep in the sling before we left the stadium. She crashed until we were already on the subway back to the van. By the time we were driving home, the Jays had won the game (damnit).
After successfully negotiating some candy for breakfast (alongside actual breakfast... we're not that horrible) we packed up the family (and 75% of everything we own) and left on our trek to my homeland. As we rolled out of the driveway, my daughter informed us that we were going to the city where my parents live, and that my father would be giving her chocolate, cookies, and raisins. Excellent.
With the statutory holiday, traffic out of the city was a breeze. We made really good time and the munchkin slept for a good portion of the first leg. We made it to a rest station for some lunch, where she placed her standard fast food order (Is it wrong that she has, at the age of two, a standard order? I don't think so because we travel so often that fast food at rest stations are a basic reality, but maybe this is just cognitive dissonance.) of chicken nuggets and a cheeseburger. She doesn't eat anywhere near a reasonable amount of either, and any time none of us have one of the options (for example, if all three of us get burgers) there is much weeping and gnashing of teeth. So, my wife and I have an understanding: the munchkin gets a cheeseburger, and one of us has to get chicken nuggets so the little mooch can get her heart's desire.
"Daddy, what's that?"
We tried something new with the sleeping situation. This time, instead of a play pen, we used an inflatable toddler bed in the hopes that she would be more comfortable and thus more willing to sleep there instead of
After a bit, I negotiated her into the room for a nap. She would not stay in her bed, so I had to wedge myself in the six inches of space between the bed and her mattress and hold her while she dozed. Unfortunately for my spine, I too fell asleep, and awoke 30 minutes later with the mother of all leg cramps and pins and needles everywhere else. I finally got myself out of the position, only to see her peering at me, eyes half open, as if to say "You think you're leaving me here? Puh-lease!" So I picked her up and lay her on my chest as we enjoyed another hour of sleep together.
After dinner, we got her into her pajamas and let her run around in the hopes she would tire herself out. She horsed around with my BIL who at one point had the following discussion with her:
The drive home was blissfully quiet, as the munchkin slept for over two hours during the first leg. At the rest station she discovered the buttons on the pop machine, but was dismayed when she learned that the letters on there only went to "F", and that you could only type in one letter and no more. However, that didn't stop her from banging on them the whole time Mommy was in the washroom.
After that, my daughter crawled up on the sofa, pulled the blanket over both of us, nuzzled into my side and said, "Watch football wiff Daddy, please." Thankfully, we have the NFL Network on demand, and I put on the highlight reel for the 2006 season. She soon tired of that and asked for Treehouse, which I happily obliged (it's Munchkin-palooza all weekend when it's her birthday, folks). She stayed there, snuggled next to me drinking her milk, for a good half hour.
So, in the interest of being honest, the whole "Steve" thing isn't totally random. A few years ago, my wife came home and was telling me about a new coworker. In the beginning she called him by one name, and in the end she called him by a different (but similar sounding) name. When I called her on this, she said she knew his name was the second one. In an effort to tease her, I said I didn't believe her, and that when I met him I would call him Steve (a name that sounded nothing like either name she had used). I would later use the name Steve at random, sometimes even as a nickname for my daughter. Apparently it stuck.
"This is our house," she said as she made a large blob in a primary paint colour that was very similar to our house's brick colour.
After dinner, we put her in the tub and tried out
So I slowly walked to our room, a little more sad than I was when I got upstairs. I figured I had at least a few more years before my daughter would so easily dispose of my presence.
Time for a little digression. This weekend really showed a marked change in my daughter's attitude toward me. She (apparently) talked about me all day Thursday. On her birthday (Friday), she was somewhat more affectionate, but also really distracted (and understandably so). However, on Saturday and Sunday it was like she was a different kid. She asked for me to do stuff when my wife was readily available. She wanted cuddles, and asked me to hold her. She kissed me more, and just generally wanted to be around me more than she has recently. It was such a welcome change.
The way I see it, she's only going to be young enough to make spending the day with her feasible for a few years, so I want to make the most of the opportunity.
We had set her four favourite stuffed animals in the rocking chair in our room, each with a special gift for her. Curious George had a yellow sundress with, of course, Curious George on it. Elmo had a sheet of Elmo stickers. Paddy had the complete Paddington Bear television series on DVD (aside: we also learned that our Paddy, with his blue hat and red coat was backwards; the munchkin didn't recognize him as Paddy until we told her because the DVD box had a red hatted, blue coated bear). And Chrissy had a dress that matched my daughter's birthday dress.
We got dressed and put her in a pink "birthday girl" hat and pink flower lei, and went out to our favourite breakfast nook for a treat. Mommy got the waffles with fruit and custard while the munchkin and I stuck to the traditional eggs and fried meats (she actually ordered for herself, more or less, by announcing "I need some sausage, lady" to the server). The place specializes in fresh fruit based breakfasts (like Mommy's waffle), and for her birthday they brought her an apple cut into a swan with a sparkler on top. They even sang Happy Birthday to her. It was really sweet.
Once we had opened all the presents, it was time for some lunch and a little nap. She awoke rather quickly (30 minutes later) and I tried to convince her to sleep a little more by bringing her into our room and letting her cuddle with me in the rocking chair. She ended up falling asleep on me for another 15 minutes. It was a nice treat to have her there, although at the same time I couldn't help but think that she was growing up so fast and that cuddles like this were going to become more and more rare. It was bittersweet.
Her second friend arrived a little later (the third invitee had called earlier in the day to inform us that they were not going to be able to arrive because of illness), with her baby brother (six months) in tow. The munchkin immediately gravitated to him, asking to have him put on her lap, kissing him, gently caressing his hands, hugging him, you name it. It was so sweet to see how much she loved that little baby boy.
Since she had been grazing all afternoon, we decided to postpone the dinner out at East Side Mario's to Saturday. We ended the evening with the three of us having a mini ice cream cone and singing Happy Birthday one more time. We got her ready for bed (taking a few extra minutes with the toothbrush). As I kissed her goodnight, she said to me, "I had a really fun day with you, Daddy."


