Tales From The Dad Side: June 2007

TDS: An Important Skill

They grow up so quickly. In the last month, my daughter has mastered many skills that she will call upon for the rest of her life, including:

drinking from a cup with no lid
using the toilet
eating with utensils
going diaperless during the night
eating without a massive rubber placemat
putting on her own shoes
sharing glue at craft time

The list seems nearly endless. And now, I am pleased to report that she can, like any good girly girl can, put on a tutu by herself:

first one foot...

then the other...

shimmy up the legs...

now to stand up...

make some final adjustments...

and voila!

I should probably also mention, for those of you who keep track of such milestones, that this is the 100th tale from the dad side. Here's to the next 100.

For those seeking more text and fewer graphics, I also have a Daditorial up where I look at how the OPP would like to handle street racing.

My family lives in a house that is 50% larger than the one I grew up in with two siblings. We have the same number of bedrooms, but more bathrooms and an additional common room, not to mention roughly double the kitchen. Despite this fact, my wife seems to have problems finding room for everything.

To be fair, she has a lot of stuff because she is a teacher without a classroom right now. But all those boxes are packed in the basement, so they don't factor into this discussion.

And to keep this post to a manageable length (something I have great difficulty doing often, I am aware - probably with little asides like these - maybe I should stop them - but I think they add to the posts a lot - but I digress) I will limit the discussion to the kitchen, but the general principles apply everywhere.

We have a lot of space in the basement. Why then, am I treated to games of "let's pretend to be MTM" when I look for the peanut butter because the kitchen has undergone (yet another) re-organization? Why am I constantly under assault from falling plastic containers whenever I open the cupboards? Because MTM needs to have everything at her fingertips all.the.time.

Cuisinart that gets used once every few weeks? Has to be under the counter in the kitchen.

Blender that sees electricity 10 times a year? Right next to the Cuisinart.

Espresso machine that we got as a wedding gift but never use? You guessed it.

This is how something gets demoted to basement status in our house:

I propose bringing it downstairs, and MTM refuses
Months later, when the item has just been used for the second time, I again propose it be stored downstairs
MTM briefly thinks about this plan, then refuses
More months later, MTM is reaching for something else and said item becomes an obstacle
MTM concludes it should be stored downstairs
MTM brings item downstairs
MTM returns with a different appliance or item to fill the space

It's a never ending cycle. There are things that have been demoted and promoted several times, people! If, in the nearly four years since we got that thing as a wedding gift we have concluded it is useless enough to be stored in the basement, how does it make it into the kitchen (the "heavy rotation" location), only to be returned to the basement at some later date? Why does this happen?

Can anyone explain this to me? Is MTM the only one that does this?

TNS: Foreign Aid And Abortion

A Catholic Cardinal has requested an amendment to a bill to preserve the U.S. Mexico City Policy. The current legislation dictates that the U.S. provides no foreign aid to organizations that promote abortion as a family planning method. However, organizations that provide abortions can still collect funding (as long as they don't promote abortion as a family planning alternative).

Unfortunately, in many underdeveloped or impoverished nations, there are not many separate medical organizations. This means that each group must decide whether or not it is willing to be paid by the U.S. to stop providing abortions legally. Many countries depend on foreign aid, from the U.S. as well as other nations, to maintain a level of medical care. To blackmail these people into stopping a medical procedure that is, in fact, legal in most of the U.S. is unreasonable and unethical.

I respect the right of the Catholic Church to maintain its strict opposition to abortion. However, to encourage legislation that would effectively make abortion illegal in some countries is short-sighted. In some instances - the classic example is the rape victim whose attack results in conception - abstinence education is simply not enough. By asking for this amendment, they are asking to doom a victim to carry a constant reminder of their attack for nine months, go through the birthing process, and then the legal process of adoption. The Church argues that the child has rights. What about the rights of the mother, the victim?

Furthermore, some of the countries that the U.S. provides aid to are not countries where Christianity is dominant, let alone Catholicism. To impose these sorts of regulations upon their aid is akin to forcing their religious beliefs upon these people; a violation of the freedom of religion the U.S. provides to all its citizens.

Foreign aid should be given when needed, as can be afforded by the tax base, without ethical or religious strings attached.

The Brief Side
First up, some useful advice about 10 things every parent should keep in their car.

Because of a noise complaint on their 11 and five year old daughters, parents may face a fine or jail time, thanks to an outdated law aimed at peddlers and hawkers.

Here is some safety advice about digging holes in the sand at the beach.

According to a recent study, first born children have higher IQs than their younger siblings.

Here is an interesting report on a survey about how parents feel about media violence. Of note is the fact that while two thirds of respondents are very concerned about the sex and violence in media, the same ratio are already closely monitoring their children's exposure. However, only one fifth feel they need to do a better job. They're monitoring the best that they can, yet they're still concerned.

For those seeking more news commentary, I direct you over to my latest Daditorial, where I take a look at a challenge to the Ontario legislation about the availability of adoption information.

TRS: Award-Winning Parenting

On Friday I arrived home from work earlier than usual (it had been a long work week, so I had taken the afternoon off as "earned time") to discover that my in-laws, who were supposed to stay with us through to Sunday afternoon, had left early that morning because my MIL's dental work was more painful than she anticipated. Long story short: we had a previously "booked" weekend turn free on us at the last minute.

Since MTM had previously been to our local mall in search of (well, I don't know of what; MTM goes to the mall an awful lot, so it's hard to keep track of the ~~excuses~~ reasons) stuff, we decided to hit a mall a little further away. Unfortunately, this mall also resides on a major traffic artery out of the city; specifically, the artery everyone and their uncle uses to go to a cottage on a Friday afternoon.

We decided to spend ~~an inordinate amount of~~ some extra time there in the hopes of avoiding the cottage rush, knowing full well this meant that the munchkin's bedtime would be later than usual. When we finally left, both my girls had new pink running shoes (the munchkin actually wore hers out of the store she loved them so much) and I came out with a new UMD case.

On the drive home, the munchkin did.not.sleep, despite the fact that we left the mall after her normal bedtime. She went down rather easily, if by easily you mean with a lot of whining and fussing and complaining.

Foolishly, I thought that going to bed nearly two hours later than normal would gain me a little bit of a sleep in on Saturday. Ha! I was awakened by toddler feet in the kidneys approximately five minutes after my normal alarm time. The feet continued to "massage" me for another 40 minutes before I relented and took her out of bed, leaving MTM to sleep.

When MTM came downstairs, we made a spur-of-the-moment decision to head to the zoo that morning (we're members, so it's not that big of a decision, mind you). So, we quickly ate, showered, and hit the road, hoping against all hope for a car nap (which we got).

While at the zoo, we took a route that we hadn't taken before and saw some new (to us) animals like a red panda (which honestly looked like a rusty raccoon) and the ever-popular wild dogs and horses of Asia (which honestly, looked like the domesticated ones we see on the farms up here).

And then, we saw it: the Dinosaur Experience! I knew at once we would have to go. I mean, the munchkin is interested in dinosaurs (OK, she likes Barney) so I figured she'd enjoy it. Sure, the warning signs (of which there were five iterations as we approached) said it would be "too overwhelming" for younger patrons. Psh! My brave daughter could handle it! So we entered and saw a fairly large animatronic carnivorous dinosaur and I hear the munchkin say, "I want to ride it."

"Ha," I think to myself, smugly. "Too overwhelming" my ass. I decide to take a photo of the overwhelming dino and my little girl.

My wife, meanwhile, is trying to tell me something. She says, "We have to go."

"No we don't; she's fine."

"Now!"

We quickly head for the emergency exit whereupon I learn that my daughter actually said, "I don't want to ride it."

Call me Father of the Year.

Feeling like an ass, I apologize to my daughter, her eyes plaintively full of panic that I would take her back into that place. My wife encourages me to resume viewing the rest of the exhibit, saying, "There's no way we're going back in there anytime soon."

After I left the exhibit, I learned that the munchkin has decided she wants to ride a pony. Now, this is the same little girl who, when placed on a tethered pony at a fair last fall, immediately asked to be removed. Apparently, she had built up her courage and was ready to try again.

This time, we didn't even mount the damn thing.

After that, we left the zoo and decided to head home. As we approached the house, the munchkin still had.not.slept, so we stopped at the grocery store "for a couple of things". When we left the overcrowded, rudely populated store some 45 minutes later with seven bags, three cases of pop and a bill of nearly $100, I understood how our grocery bill could spiral: if that trip was "a couple of things", I could only imagine what the regular weekly run was!

We came home, had some lunch, and I left to do more errands while MTM put the munchkin down for a (very late) nap. When I came home, the two of them were sleeping, so I settled in for some PSP. As the clock struck 5:30pm (they had been down at least two hours at that point) I gave up the plan of having BBQ burgers for dinner, since I knew a) I could not anticipate when they would be up and subsequently could not know when to start cooking and b) they would be starving when they awoke. At 6pm my suspicions were confirmed when they arose and the munchkin began the tired, hungry whine.

"What are we going to do for dinner? She isn't going to last while I cook," I said.

"I don't know."

"Take out?"

"OK. Let her choose."

"What do you want for dinner, munchkin."

"I want a cheeseburger from McDonald's," she replied.

When we tried to get her out of her jammies for the ride, she whined so pitifully that we left her in the pajamas. When we tried to put on shoes she whined so pitifully that we let her go out in stocking feet.

To recap: after completely screwing up her sleep routine, we took our kid to McDonald's, in her pajamas, without shoes on. Yep, Parents of the Year, right here folks. (At least we went through the drive-thru.)

The rest of the weekend was a lot of family time. The munchkin and I took a bath together Saturday night, which is always fun. And on Sunday she and I got up early (so MTM could sleep in) and watched Curious George on my PSP, as well as the musical numbers from Beauty and the Beast ("Skip to the part where Belle sings, Daddy"... What did we do before DVDs, people? What did we do?) We spent most of Sunday morning outside playing, and the afternoon struggling with sleep (eventually she napped with me for a couple hours) and also playing on the living room floor (an activity that mostly involved cuddling with yours truly).

It was a fun weekend, and an unexpected "just us" one. Sometimes, it's the little surprises that are the best.

THS: Reality TV Pitch Ideas

It's summer, and with summer comes a dearth of reality television. Today we take a look at some pitch ideas for new reality television shows, each with a family-oriented twist.

Big Mother
Imagine a group of strangers isolated in a house in sunny California for twelve weeks. Each week, two or three people are chosen as candidates for elimination by an audience vote. The final elimination is determined by a series of competitions. However, the competitions aren't dreamed up by producers or writers; it's the contestants' mothers who determine the tasks that would be most challenging for each contestant. Then, when eliminated, they discover that their mother was the cause of their dismissal, and have an open session with Dr. Phil, where he alternately berates the mother for making her kid lose, and mocks the eliminated contestant for failing to accomplish what his mother assigned him to do.

Really Freaky Friday
A weekly role-reversal themed show, where parents and children take the other's place for a day. The catch is that all the candidates have one member come from the corrections department - either the penal system or juvenile detention.

Abstinence Experiment
Take a professed college virgin who is close to sleeping with her significant other and place her as a nanny for a week. Families to be chosen from those rejected by Supernanny for being incorrigible.

The Great Road Trip
A competition between families of four (one or two parents, and all children under the age of 18) driving across the country with designated stop points throughout the trip. However, the directions are incomplete and the children cannot be fed until specific tasks are completed. Routes will be chosen to have the fewest rest centers, gas stations, and restaurants. Radios will be programmed to intermittently fail for extended periods of time, and no portable electronic devices will be permitted in the vehicle.

A Brief Anecdote
My father is coming to visit us in a couple of weeks. This is significant because since I finished university nine years ago my parents have been to the place I live a total of four times, and of those four, one was my wedding and one was a day trip for MTM's surprise birthday party. Unfortunately, my mother will be unable to make the trip due to her health.

Last night I was talking to my sister, and she told me that he relayed the following to her: "I got new sandals for the trip to see SciFi Dad. Then, I went to look for a dress for my Italian pumpkin, but I couldn't find the size that is her age. It was all small, medium... and I don't know what to buy when they're like that."

How sweet is he? (For full effect, you need to imagine the above being said by a little 73 year old Italian man, with a thick accent.)

For those interested parties, I have a new Daditorial up where I look at the rights of a father in a custody situation.

TDS: Empathy

At the age my daughter is at right now (just shy of 27 months... maybe I should say 2.25 years? two and a quarter? anyhow,) the bulk of her learning comes from my wife and I. Some of the influences are obvious, like her penchant for "typing email" or her excessive use of the word "sure" as an affirmative response. However, there is one thing my child has learned, and I cannot credit my wife or I for it, no matter how much I would like to. It is something that cannot be taught, nor can it really be learned.

"Daddy, why is that boy crying?"

I hear that often when I am at the mall with my daughter, usually when we're in line and some other child is wailing away about why he cannot have the toy he had been allowed to carry throughout the store. I explain it by saying that he is feeling frustrated because he cannot have the toy he wants. I can see the look of concern on her face.

"Mommy has a headache. I will give her a kiss."

Whenever my wife has a migraine (and unfortunately we're in summer as of today, which means more storms, which means more pressure changes, which means more migraines) my daughter changes from a toddler that acts like a ferret on amphetamines to a mellow, cuddly, tender little child. She kisses my wife often, and is content to rest her head on Mommy's chest for extended periods of time while they lie in a dark room. She has a somber look on her face as she does all this.

"I brought Grandma my blanket and friends (dolls) to make her feel better."

My mother is exceptionally unwell, and it is visibly obvious to anyone. From a very young age, my daughter treated my mother differently than any other adult. While my father would get a cursory hug and kiss before being prompted to play or fetch her a cookie, my mother would get long, drawn out cuddles. Randomly, in the middle of flitting about the living room, she will stop what she is doing, climb up into my mother's lap, and rest her head on her shoulder for a few minutes before resuming her activity. I see a look of quiet contentedness on her face.

Somewhere, and I don't know where (maybe she was born with it) my daughter mastered the concept of empathy. As I have said, I don't think she learned it from my wife and I (although we are admittedly empathetic ourselves), mainly because it isn't an easily imitated behaviour. Nonetheless, she does empathize all.the.time. She is acutely aware of everyone's emotional state: family members, strangers, visitors, and even the occasional pet. She is always verbalizing how she perceives others to feel, sometimes with an uncanny knack for picking up on subtleties.

While I may not be certain where it came from, I certainly am proud that she displays such a characteristic.

TWS: Crib Bedding

Welcome back to The Wife Side. It's been a while since I wrote one of these, so I've tried to come up with a good one. (As an aside, I'm sort of running out of funny anecdotes to share about my wife. Will you still read me if I stopped doing The Wife Side every week?)

July 26, 2004
On our one year wedding anniversary, we confirm that MTM is pregnant with the munchkin. From online calculators and subsequent doctor visits, we determine a due date of late March, 2005.

August 9, 2004
The word "crib" first appears in our emails. MTM refers to a "crib set" when discussing colours for the nursery (that we are in the process of painting).

October 15, 2004
During dinner, we are discussing the weekend (where we intend to go, what we need to do, et cetera) when MTM spontaneously bursts into tears (pregnancy hormones, anyone?) and begins speaking at a velocity and pitch I am incapable of understanding. A number of deep breaths later, I am able to ascertain that she is feeling anxious because "we have not accomplished anything" in preparation for the baby (never mind that the nursery was painted, in two colours, with a chair rail). When I ask what we should do first, she says she feels like we need the bedding, so I suggest that we finish up dinner quickly and head out to the mall to start looking.

We go to the baby section at Toys R Us and begin looking. She immediately gravitates to a green gingham Classic Pooh set (green because we do not know the gender; there was a blue set as well) and we unpack it in the store for a closer look. She is pleased with the looks, and I suggest we take it home (after confirming the return policy) to check the colour match with the green paint in the room.

At home, we place the comforter on the twin bed in the nursery at the time. MTM literally jumps up and down, claps, and giggles in response to seeing the combination of the walls and the bedding. I heave a huge sigh of relief.

October 16, 2004
Lying awake in bed, we talk about the events of last night. I asked her if she feels better now that we had "accomplished something" and receive silence in response. I prop myself up on my elbow to look her in the eye (she had been resting her head on my chest) and see the tears begin to flow. Returning to the circumstances of last night (incoherence), she makes an unsuccessful attempt at communicating. A few breaths later I learn that she no longer likes the set from last night.

I suggest we return it and begin our search anew. "But then we'll have nothing!" she exclaims.

Confused, I ask if we could try going to a different store without first returning the unwanted set. She agrees and chooses a store that is an hour away (apparently capitalizing on my confusion to scam a trip to an infrequently-visited shopping center).

We get to the new store, and MTM is all smiles and excitement as she peruses their wares. She concludes that none of the over 75 designs are suitable, and asks if she can customize the bedding to her preferences. The salesman confirms that they can, indeed, do what she wants for a fee. While we are at it, we also order all the solid wood handmade furniture for the nursery as well (because, you know, in for a penny, in for a pound).

Before processing the order, the salesman asks how far along we are. We explain we are in our second trimester, and he refuses to sell us the bedding and furniture yet, just in case something happens. I ~~calmly~~ firmly explain that we are willing to take the risk (~~and that if he doesn't sell me that stuff to-fucking-day I am going to reach down his throat, pull out his intestines, and shove them in his ear~~) and we leave after making the deposit payment.

November 6, 2004
We retrieve the custom bedding from the store. MTM immediately places the duvet on the twin bed and jumps up and down, claps, and giggles in response to seeing the combination of the walls and the bedding. I gasp for air and feel my chest tighten. However, no further discussion about the bedding follows.

April 18, 2005
After two weeks in a cradle in our room, the munchkin is moved to the nursery (because she used to have muscle reflex reactions in the night where her arms would open wide - like for a hug - and whack her hands violently on the bars of the cradle). Before doing so, MTM packs up the customized pillow, duvet, and bumper pads and puts a receiving blanket in the crib, explaining none of that stuff is safe for a baby.

TNS: Two Father Articles

There were many father-centric articles this week in light of Sunday being Father's Day. I have chosen to look at two of them.

First, Catholic Charities USA called upon the US Congress to promote the two-parent family by improving their support for low-income fathers. Their argument was that the current social-welfare policies undermine the roles of parents because it is too focused on the mothers and children, leaving the fathers to suffer.

The first problem with that approach is the Christian-centric definition of family requiring one mother and one father. Instead of calling for marriage reform to legalize same-sex marriages (and theoretically making it as difficult to dissolve a homosexual relationship as it is a heterosexual marriage), they are ignoring all other family models in favour of their own.

The second problem is that, generally, in custody disputes the directive is to place the children with the mother (except in extreme cases). Therefore, the majority of single-parent homes are with a mother and thus, an increase in funding of single mothers is a natural result.

The third problem is that marriages and/or relationships do not solely fall apart for financial reasons, and paternal abandonment is not generally a result of economics. A woman does not leave her partner because he lost a job, and a man does not leave for that reason. Problems such as infidelity or abuse make up a far more significant portion of the reasons for separation.

The solution is not to improve the economic situation, but rather to improve the relationships themselves through counseling and therapy. Money cannot buy happiness. Employing the fathers only makes for more affluent unhappy couples.

The second story reports on a study that has found that, according to college students, real fathers fail in comparison to fathers portrayed on television, specifically on sitcoms.

We will set aside the fact that the subjects are shown 22 minutes of content to represent a day or even several days. We will also set aside the fact that the subjects are shown several characters' perspectives over the course of that episode. Finally, we will also ignore the fact that the episode is scripted and as such not subject to real-world interruptions.

These are fictional characters, created for the purpose of entertainment (and in this case, specifically comedic purposes). They are meant to be funny, not an accurate portrayal of a father. The subjects know this, and as such their expectations of the fathers they see are lower than those they have of their own fathers.

The subjects who claim their father does an inferior job to Homer Simpson are not responding rationally and objectively to the question. They are feeling negative emotions about their father and their relationship with that man. When comparing how thinking about their father makes them feel with how watching Homer makes them feel, of course they are going to prefer the feelings evoked by Homer: he's a television character designed to make you laugh!

The study claims to have found that real fathers don't measure up to the low standards of television fathers. I think they found that television dads are more entertaining.

The Brief Side
First up, some sound advice for parents: your children will have problems. No matter how much effort parents put in, a child will not enter adulthood problem-free, and to expect this is unrealistic, according to the article.

This is an interesting look at the delicate work/life balance many employed-out-of-the-home parents face (although the article is about fathers, it applies to mothers as well).

Here are some tips for making your backyard safe.

I recently discovered a site for parenting advice called Minti. They have a couple good articles I'd like to highlight this week. One is about water safety while the other is about early literacy.

A new film is being made in India about a small segment of their population, where the tradition is for the men prostitute the women in their family. Apparently, the women earn money, allowing their fathers and brothers to drink, gamble, and pimp them all day.

In a unique approach to honouring the wishes of the dead, a man got married at his mother's funeral so she could attend his wedding.

Finally, this article looks (literally, with pictures) at the notion that daughters marry men like their daddies.

If you still have a thirst for more commentary, you can head over and see my latest Daditorial, where I look at homework reform in the TDSB.

TRS: Father's Day Weekend

On Friday I worked from home to make the departure for my parents' place easier.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a lot of actual work done because a) the munchkin doesn't quite understand the concept of Daddy being in the kitchen banging away at his laptop and subsequently not being available for Treehouse and cuddles, and b) I had to (finally) pick up the van from the body shop (and return the rental, and deal with a dink at the rental place because he claimed my gas gauge wasn't "at level").

However, everything got taken care of and we were off. Generally, I drive on all family road trips because ~~my wife can't drive~~ I get car sick (~~because my wife can't drive~~). However, since I had gotten up with the munchkin extra early (and was unable to brew coffee since we were firing up the new coffee mill I got for my birthday and thus had to wait for MTM to get up) I was feeling very groggy and we pulled over at the first rest station to swap drivers. (Since she reads this and is ~~very~~ somewhat sensitive about driving, I will state for the record that I was just kidding about her being a bad driver.)

The middle leg was handled by MTM, and I took over for the final leg after a brief nap. However, of more interesting note: the munchkin (after being up half an hour earlier than usual) did.not.sleep the whole way. That's right, dear reader; we had over four hours of a punch drunk toddler, laughing at her own jokes and randomly demanding CD changes with no break. Somehow, we escaped with our sanity.

We arrived just in time for dinner, and afterwards MTM went to put the munchkin down while I took my sister to the mall to run some errands for my mother. When I returned over 90 minutes (two hours past her normal bedtime) later, the munchkin had just fallen asleep! This was a harbinger of things to come, it would seem.

Saturday morning we (MTM and I) were treated to what has become a little routine when we visit my parents: sleeping in while my father gets up with the munchkin, feeding her raisins and cookies (oh, the healthiness... bah, she's visiting her grandparents) and lets her watch copious amounts of television.

When we finally got up, the three of us headed out to do some errands before dropping off MTM at the hair dressers. When it came time to pick her up, I asked the munchkin if she wanted to come with me, and she replied that she would rather stay with her grandfather and play outside. (Everyone in the family would be told, and retold this fact for the remainder of the day by my very proud father.)

That afternoon the munchkin (and MTM, and I) slept for a couple hours (but not without much negotiating and struggling). When we awoke, the kids all went outside to play in the jumping castle we brought with us. I took the chance to wax nostalgic with my younger sister and my PSP (the Activision game has ones we played on our old Coleco Gemini - an Atari 2600 emulator). While we were playing, the following exchange occurred:

"You know, Mom's dying for you to announce that MTM is expecting again." (My sister knows we're "trying".)

"Yeah."

"She's really eager."

"What the hell does she want from me? I'm banging my wife as hard as I can!"

OK, that may have been a little too crass for some of my readership, but I ran it by MTM before I posted it, so it's all good.

That afternoon, my nephew brought out his Spider-Man costume for the munchkin to try on. I think she made a cute Spider-Girl.

After dinner and baths, the munchkin was treated to a surprise: her cousin (whom she adores wholly and completely) wore matching green monkey pajamas to hers! She was beside herself, insisting that they read books together, and perpetually hugging him. Hopped up on sugar (there was cake for my nephew's birthday) and being egged on by everyone, the munchkin stayed up until 10pm Saturday night.

Unbelievably, she awoke at her normal time on Sunday morning for more snacks and television with her grandfather while Mommy and Daddy caught up on some much-needed sleep. We spent the morning at my parents' place so that a) the munchkin's nap would coincide with our departure and b) our arrival back home would be at the dinner hour so we could hit a restaurant for Father's Day.

The munchkin slept for three hours straight on the drive, only waking when MTM lifted her out of the carseat (because, hey, it had been three hours and she isn't wearing diapers anymore... we're not stupid). The final stretch of the ride was spent mixing CDs and telling stories.

We arrived at Lone Star for dinner where MTM and I split some steak fajitas (I'm told the rice was particularly good - except for the peppers - by the munchkin, who chose to eat that, and a tortilla, instead of the grilled cheese we ordered for her). Unfortunately (~~for me~~), the meal did not agree with MTM, who spent the 30 minute drive from the restaurant to home alternating between moaning about stomach cramps and complaining that the air conditioning (on full blast with all vents pointed directly at her) wasn't cold enough ~~while the tips of my fingers turned blue~~.

The munchkin's evening was closed out by a bubble bath with yours truly, whom she spent the majority of time rinsing with a small container of water. She also tried to give herself a bubble goatee, just like Daddy, although it didn't stay on very well.

After she went down and we were sure she was asleep, MTM and I proceeded to assemble the side rails for her big girl bed. We got the only double set they had, which were coloured a deep blue (MTM had hemmed and hawed about the colour until I said the magic words: slip covers). During the assembly, we had to pull the rail to its full size: an exercise that should never be done when one individual is significantly larger and stronger than the other, we learned. After laughing at each other (and my insistence on referring to the guide book as "Manuel" - said with a heavy Mexican accent - you had to be there, but trust me it was funny) we ended the night with a little NYPD Blue on DVD.

What about my Father's Day presents? Well, they gave me a magnet with a photo of the munchkin and I while we were still at my parents' place. We decided to postpone the other gifts until tonight because MTM's stomach wasn't all that great.

TTS: Being A Father

Given that Sunday is Father's Day, I thought I'd share some thoughts on being a father. When I started to write this, I couldn't get a cohesive flow, but I liked everything that I was writing. So, I have made this post into brief anecdotes or thoughts instead of one continuous post.

Also, I'm writing this from my perspective as a working father whose wife is a stay-at-home mom, so some of the generalizations I make may not apply to all fathers.

* * *

Being a father is being a parent, but it is not the same as being a mother. Whether it is by social conditioning or genetic tendencies, mothers are tender caregivers while fathers are strong protectors. That is not to say that fathers cannot be tender, nor that mothers cannot be strong. It is merely to point out a fundamental difference in the approach.

* * *

When my daughter was little, I was the one who first lifted her above my head and made faces at her. It was me who rolled around on the floor around her as she remained immobile on the carpet, entertained by my antics. When my wife was concerned that I was doing too much, being too crazy, I brushed her off, confident in my knowledge of my daughter's limits. Sometimes I was able to grin smugly as she giggled and cooed for more. Other times I wore a sullen look as she cried inconsolably until Mommy held her. That is the crux of being a father: your instincts, while good for the most part, aren't as well-honed as you would like. And while mothers have a similar blind spot, theirs is on the side of being too cautious; subsequently yielding less negative results.

* * *

But being a Daddy isn't always about rough-housing and belly kisses and horsey rides; it's about being a parent and accepting the role of the parent who isn't Mommy. Every child loves their Mommy and has a special bond with her. There is a connection that comes from gestation, from delivery, from nursing that cannot be replicated with their father. Part of being a good Dad is understanding that limitation and working within and around it.

* * *

When my daughter is sad or inconsolable, I know that rarely am I number one. However, that doesn't mean that I am never number one. Sometimes, I'm the one she wants, based on her needs at that time. Right now, I'm the one she wants when she wants to relax (not immediately before bed, but just before that). We cuddle and I scratch her back while she rests her head in the corner of my neck and shoulder. Sometimes she'll ask me to hold her like a little baby, cradled to me as she rests her head on my chest.

* * *

I like being a father, but I love being a dad.

If you're more interested in something decidedly un-fatherly, check out my latest Daditorial, where I look at breastfeeding in public.

TRS: Yesterday

Thank you all for your kind wishes yesterday in the comments; they are most appreciated.

Instead of a traditional (i.e. text-based) recap of events, I thought that I would show you my day in pictures and captions. I hope you enjoy it.

MTM brought a picnic lunch (and the munchkin) to my office. Upon arriving, the munchkin whipped out a gift:

"I have a present for you Daddy. Here, let me open it."

Inside was an action figure from the new Spider-Man movie. An action figure for a 30+ year-old Daddy? Well:

A view of my desk shelf (in addition to the new figure, that's Boba and Jango Fett, some Star Wars Lego, and the NFC North mini helmets for those of you scoring at home)

They stopped and got donuts for dessert:

Ah, the healthy birthday lunch...

After lunch, she decided to "work" at my desk (really, she was admiring a craft she made for me last Halloween):

"I'm working Daddy."

By the time I got home, she was bursting at the seams with the anticipation of opening my presents:

"OK Daddy, you hold the paper and I will open the presents."

After dinner, MTM served the cake that she and the munchkin made together. Apparently the munchkin did measuring and everything!

Mmm... cake.

Apparently, the cake was quite tasty:

Daddy caught trying to dip his finger in the munchkin's plate.

After dinner was done and the munchkin was in bed, I got to play around with my new PSP. (Aside: I got it online, and was reading your comments on it last night! How cool is that?) And then, MTM said, "Can I have a turn?"

Overall, it was a great day. In addition to the PSP itself, I received three games (Activision Greatest Hits - 48 Atari 2600 games from the 1980s; Lemmings - a puzzle game; and Star Wars Lego II - something Ali's son enjoys). I also got a coffee mill (something so large that I can actually grind enough beans for a whole pot at once) and some Starbucks beans. Yes, I am spoiled.

Today

I am trying something a little different with today's post (actually, I am doing more than one thing differently today, but there's one thing in particular I want your feedback on). Before the post begins you will see a flash player: this is the soundtrack to the post. If you have headphones or are in an environment that allows you to, please hit play before reading. Then, in the comments, let me know if that concept worked for you and if you would like to see it again in the future.

June 13, 1920 - US Postal Service rules that children may not be sent via parcel post

June 13, 1943 - Malcolm McDowell is born

June 13, 1966 - US Supreme Court issued its landmark Miranda vs. Arizona decision, ruling that criminal suspects must be informed of their constitutional rights prior to questioning by police

June 13, 1974 - SciFi Dad is born

June 13, 1978 - Ethan Embry is born

June 13, 1980 - I have my first (and only) "friend" birthday party at McDonald's

June 13, 1985 - Supreme Court of Canada rules that almost all laws in Manitoba are constitutionally invalid because they were written in English only

June 13, 1986 - Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen are born

June 13, 1989 - Detroit Pistons win their first NBA title by sweeping the L.A. Lakers

June 13, 1991 - I obtain my learner's permit for driving

June 13, 1993 - Kim Campbell chosen to succeed Brian Mulroney as Progressive Conservative Party leader, becoming first woman Prime Minister of Canada

June 13, 1995 - Alanis Morissette releases the album "Jagged Little Pill"

June 13, 1997 - Word escapes in the engineering pub that it is my birthday; I consume 12 beers between noon and 4pm, eat dinner, sleep, dye my hair burgundy, and hit a club that night continuing to drink until last call. It would be the most alcohol I consume until my stag.

June 13, 2000 - MTM and I share our first kiss

June 13, 2007 - lunch with my girls (MTM and the munchkin are coming to my office) and a "party" with my family (MTM and the munchkin) - a simple day for a man with simple tastes

For those concerned individuals, The Wife Side will return next week.

TNS: A Bad Parenting Technique

I recently discovered an article online. It was drawn to it because of the title and the contradictory feelings it brought up in me. The article was a discussion on guerrilla parenting techniques, and covered both what they were as well as how to implement them. Some examples were also given.

The term guerrilla is Spanish in origins, and commonly refers to small combat groups whose attack patterns are flexible and unpredictable (as contrasted to traditional warfare where there is a front line, a demarcation point for the assault). That's correct: the term guerrilla refers to warfare, and is being used to describe a suggested form of parenting! The specific examples they provide include giving a rude child a tissue without explanation (the child is being "snotty") and pretending to be distracted by a fly (which you subsequently attempt to eat) in response to a chatty child.

I don't know where to begin.

First, using a term that refers to warfare when dealing with one's children is disgusting and sad. Parents are their children's protectors, teachers, providers, models and leaders, not their adversaries. No matter what a child does, no matter how poorly they behave, the child is still the child and the parent is still the parent, still the adult, and should act as such. Resorting to tactics that confuse the child is not an effective technique for teaching them that their behaviour is unacceptable.

Second, there is nothing wrong with a chatty child! If your kid talks a lot and asks a bunch of questions that invariably have you at your wits end at some point, welcome to the club called parenting. It's what kids do: they talk to get information and share information. Sure, sometimes they are going to drive you insane, but there are ways to handle it without belittling or mocking them.

The author argues that these tactics are superior because they allow the parent to remain calm instead of yelling. I counter that a parent can remain calm without trying to make fun of or confuse their offspring. This style of parenting is mean-spirited, and ultimately will teach children to deal with situations in that manner.

The Brief Side
First up, a humourous take from a father on being a lone parent while his wife was away for the weekend. His conclusion: stay at home moms are saints.

Here's a list of rainy day activities to avoid the dreaded "I'm bored" being uttered.

According to some researchers at UCLA, PG13 films are unsafe for kids. The study looked primarily at violence, how it was portrayed, and the impact it could have on children.

Here is some advice for over-involved parents and how their actions can affect a child's social development.

This is an interesting article about child safety when the parents are not at home. It covers both preemptive techniques (such as making sure your kids are prepared) as well as new technologies that can assist parents.

Research has found that divorce can increase the risk of Ritalin use. However, the article goes on to question whether the divorce causes the Ritalin use, or if those parents that are genetically more likely to produce offspring that require Ritalin are also more likely to divorce.

Finally, I knew I needed to share this with you when I saw it. For anyone who has a father with a sense of humour and an appreciation for SciFi (cough), the perfect card awaits you.

I also wrote about a news story over at Daditorial today. I took a look at the concept of social promotion in today's schools.

TRS: Daddy's a Losah Begins

On Friday morning we woke up and MTM told me she had a fever and a migraine. I asked her if she wanted me to call in sick, but she said she would be OK, so I went into work. I felt really badly about her home alone, sick, with the munchkin, so I banged through all my work and got out extra early and headed home to find the two of them lying in a dark room.

After a failed attempt to take the munchkin out for some errands that ended abruptly when the (metal) carseat bucket (that had been sitting in the hot sun all afternoon) touched her thigh and she wailed in agony. All bets were off; she wanted Mommy and nothing else. So much for Mommy's rest. The rest of the afternoon was spent in our dark family room with the two of them cuddling on the sofa while I fetched apple juice and toast.

I did get a little time for MTM when the munchkin and I sat on our porch watching the storm brew. We saw the winds pick up, and then drip, drip, the rain started ever so slowly. I love a good storm, but MTM is paranoid about lightning and stuff, so we couldn't stay out too long.

Saturday morning we all got up, and (thankfully) MTM was feeling much better (her fever broke during the night). The munchkin and I left extra early in the hopes of securing a PSP from Zellers. But wait, didn't you say you already had one, SciFi? Why yes, observant reader, I did. However, the flyer told me that there was a much better deal than I previously received, so I wanted to capitalize upon it. (Short version: my VISA now has a net $35 credit on it, and I have an additional game.) After that, we went to do some groceries. It was a very pleasant experience for both of us, and given that recently she had been more attached to Mommy, it was extra special that it was just her and I.

Meanwhile, back at home, MTM finished painting the bedroom. When we came home, we took the munchkin into her newly painted room for the first time. She audibly gasped when she saw the colour. Then, she grinned from ear to ear and clapped her hands. I enjoyed seeing the combination of joy on her face and that of pride on MTM's as she showed off the room she did all by herself (it's a small room, and we had nowhere to put the furniture, so we could only have one painter in there at a time, and MTM wanted to be that painter).

After that we packed up the stroller and went out ~~to sort through other people's trash~~ "garage saling". (What's that? You thought "garage sale" was a noun? Well, so did I before I met MTM. Now I know that "to garage sale" is a proper verb which means to sort through crap other people no longer want (usually for a very good reason) and then pay them to take it away for them.) However, I (sadly) also learned that morning that my wife has been removed and replaced with a clone or an alien hybrid of sorts. We came home with not.one.thing from the sales. This is a monumental occasion, people! My wife always brings home some crap from someone else's lawn when she goes to these things!

That afternoon was lost to a sleep strike. (The munchkin simply refused to go down without MTM, and even then not without some significant effort. By the time they descended the stairs, it was after 3pm, leaving most of the afternoon lost.) What little was left of it was spent hanging out with our neighbours (who, sadly, have sold their house and are moving later this month; and their oldest daughter was so sweet and responsible, in a couple of years she will make an amazing babysitter... for someone else's kid).

Sunday morning I got to sleep in while MTM and the munchkin played downstairs. Unable to fully capitalize, I came down an hour after them and discovered that MTM planned a special breakfast to kick off "Daddy's a Losah". (Aside: whenever MTM's birthday rolls around, we have Mommy-palooza where we celebrate all things Mommy. However, when you append "palooza" to my name, is sounds more like "is a losah" (loser) than it should. Combine that with the birthday controversy (short version: I don't make a big deal of my birthday, my wife thinks I'm nuts), and you get the joke a little.) The girls had pancakes while I had eggs and bacon (I'm not a huge pancake fan).

We were so stuffed from breakfast that we rainchecked our plan to hit Lone Star for lunch. Instead, we fed the munchkin her lunch (PB&J - during whose construction she fell off the counter because Daddy wasn't wedging her into place tightly enough... she was fine; not even a goose egg) and put her down for an all-too-brief nap (she was up early and needed more). When we later tried to put her back for another one, we had the second great sleep strike of the weekend, this time complete with howling wails, because we decided not to cave to her co-sleeping demands. Sigh. She never did actually sleep a second time. The upside, however, was that she could "help" me tighten the table legs (because her mother is obsessive compulsive about the acceptable level of "wobbliness" for a table cough).

My inlaws arrived later that afternoon for another two day stay (this time it's a bridal shower, two dental appointments, and a hair appointment). With it being Sunday (and them leaving Tuesday), we decided to "celebrate" my birthday and Father's Day for my FIL with dinner that night. My SIL and her boyfriend came over, and we had a nice barbecue. My MIL brought dessert. (Aside: they recently have been a lot better about being "good guests" than they had been in the past, which makes their visits somewhat more tolerable. Don't misunderstand, they're family and as such will continue to stay with us as needed. However, with a three bedroom semi, having four adults and a toddler inside the walls all.the.time can be quite the challenge.) I received a Starbucks gift card (Guatemalan, here we come) and an indoor/outdoor weather station (an indoor thermometer with a wireless outdoor probe, so we can tell the temperature inside and outside the house at the same time).

After dinner, things got a little crazy (as you can see in the image above; that's MTM under the Nemo costume) but we all had a good time, and the punch-drunk munchkin (now over an hour past her bedtime, and without a proper nap no less) entertained everyone.

All in all, we had a really good weekend. The munchkin really seems to be getting more attached to me as time goes on, asking for me (or at least considering me a valid alternative to Mommy) more and making this man one happy Daddy.

THS: Ode To Children's Music

Oh, how I loathe thee,
let me count the ways.

I loathe you with the heat
Of a thousand suns... shine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are grey

Damnit.

The songs get stuck in my head
And shoulders, knees and toes
Knees and toes, knees and toes

Crap.

When I hear you on CD
I reach to hit skip
To my Lou,
Lou, Lou, skip to my Lou
Skip to my Lou my darling

Doh!

I loathe you in the morning
And in the afternoon
I loathe you in the evening
Underneath the moon
Skinamarinky dinky dink...

Oh what the hell.

I loathe you
(Oh yes I loathe you)
I loathe you
(I really loathe you)
I... loathe... you.
You. Boo boo dee doo!

If you're looking for something a little more serious, you can check out my latest Daditorial, where I look at the latest Ontario Coroner's Report and the recommendations therein.

TTS: Parental Adapability

When my wife was pregnant with our daughter, we had many talks about how we were going to raise our baby. We made plans, and decided what things we were going to accept, and what things were not acceptable to us. This continued after she was born as well, when well-intentioned people would strongly advise us one way and we had a differing view.

One thing we were convinced of was that our daughter would never watch television. As in, never ever. That plan, while noble, was also foolish. By the time she was three or four months old, she was watching DVDs of herself while bouncing in her exersaucer) during my wife's shower, or when she had to be left quasi-unattended for a moment. That was pretty much it until I broke my ankle, when my needs meant that my wife had less time for the munchkin. So, while I was having my boot adjusted, or getting help using the bathroom, our daughter was introduced to the wonderful world of Treehouse. Eventually, we added other shows to her repertoire (most notably CBC's Curious George), and she now has a routine of watching television in the early mornings as well as occasionally after dinner. The DVDs are somewhat of a distant memory, only occasionally being the viewing of choice.

Another rule we had was no toys that lit up or made lots of noise. Generally speaking, we didn't want any battery-powered toys in the house. This lasted for nearly ten months, until one day, while playing at a friend's house, my wife noticed how much enjoyment my daughter got from playing with a "lights and sounds" style activity table. Beginning to question our rule, we explored options at the local toy store and allowed the munchkin to experiment. We chose an activity table (above) that had several musical items as well as some other tactile ones. She danced to the little tunes, and clapped her hands excitedly. It immediately became her favourite, and is still one of a select few toys that are always an option.

When our daughter was around three months old, my MIL and her friend began to insist we start feeding her cereal because she nursed so often and always woke in the night to feed. They believed that adding solids would help her sleep through the night. We refused because we believed we should feed her only breastmilk until six months. However, we eventually started to think about it more seriously, and after talking to our doctor, gave her some rice cereal. The photo above is from that first time; she is just shy of five months old.

As parents we have ideas and goals and dreams. We have plans that map out what we want for our children. However, the most important plan we can make is the plan to be flexible, to adapt to whatever life throws at us. No two children are alike, and even no child is the same in two similar events. We need to learn when to stand firm and when to bend. It is a delicate balance, but one that ultimately will serve us best as parents (not to mention modeling flexibility for our kids).

There's a "bonus" (i.e. in addition to my usual posting schedule) Daditorial up today, where I take a look at the reaction of Leaf fans to the Stanley Cup Finals.

PBN: Memoires Of A Cafeteria Band Geek

This post is part of a blog blast being put on by the Parent Bloggers Network.

The school cafeteria. It conjures up images of mystery meat, old ladies in hairnets, and food stuck in places that make you wonder how it ever got there in the first place. It ignites memories of using the "plastic spoon catapult" or making mashed potato art. It was the place where you ate lunch, played cards, and talked about anything except the classes you were taking.

In my five years of high school (when I went to high school in Ontario it was a five year program) I think I actually ate lunch in the cafeteria a total of ten times. That's not to say that there was anything wrong with the cafeteria, nor does it imply that I was not in the cafeteria. It's more a statement of how many other things were going on in our cafeteria during the lunch hour (and afterwards).

Our school had two cafeterias. One was equipped with a full-service kitchen (that served fresh-out-of-the-oven-but-slightly-undercooked chocolate chip cookies that were as addictive crack) and a small riser-style stage. The other had no hot food, but a larger stage with proper backstage areas and a greenroom. In my five years there, between the two venues, I probably performed over a hundred times, either in a band or as part of a musical.

Our concerts were all performed in the cafeteria. Twice a year, we would co-ordinate an evening of music and parents would attend and listen to the final product of all those late-night practices. The thing was, the acoustics were terrible. One wall was all glass, and despite attempts to cover it with curtains, the echo was even noticed by those individuals who could never be called audiophiles. So, our parents always thought something was "a bit off". Listening to those recordings now, I can still hear the effect of a trumpet soloist bouncing off the far glass wall.

We also did musicals in the cafeteria. Unfortunately, being a venue designed for serving food, it did not have a proper pit for the orchestra, so we (the band) were shoved over in the corner and (literally) covered with a large black fabric tarp so the audience wouldn't see us. It made it difficult to pick up the cues from the stage, given that we couldn't actually see it. One time we cut out two to three seconds before the actor did, leaving him holding his note alone (and turning a bright shade of red shortly thereafter).

No, I did not eat many meals in those cafeterias. But I did spend a lot of time there. I just spent my time doing other things. Aside from all the blunders, the time spent in those cafeterias make up some of my fondest memories of high school. In some ways, the memories are like the more traditional ones: we gathered together and spent our time doing a bunch of things that weren't part of our schooling.

Check out School Menu and its parental counterpart Family Everyday, two sites that work together with School Food Services Directors to provide and promote healthy eating and physical fitness for kids and their parents.

TNS: A Story Evolves

This week, instead of my regular rant, I wanted to share a fascinating story from South Africa. The story developed through four articles, spanning four days.

In the initial article, we learn that a mother has dropped her baby into a toilet. The great-grandmother heard cries coming from the latrine, and called emergency services.

A few hours later, the initial situation has been resolved as the baby was rescued. However, details begin to come through; most frightening is the fact that the baby is a newborn, and was covered in maggots when found.

The next day, a follow-up article tells us that the infant still had the placenta and umbilical cord attached, and was covered in ant bites.

Finally, an article tells us that the mother has been charged with concealment of birth and attempted murder.

Reading the four stories, we see, in rapid succession, the evolution of a news event. From fear, to relief, to horror, to the small comfort of justice, the entire story played out over the course of a few days. I found it an amazing story with a relatively positive ending.

The Brief Side
First up, some advice (just in time for family vacation season) for parents who want to take a baby on a plane.

If flying isn't really your game, here's an interesting look at marital intimacy following a new baby.

For those of us with toddlers, we have some advice about controlling the clutter of toys.

In the "Well, duh!" department, we have new research that has found that mothers who are stressed out (isn't that all mothers?) are at greater risk for poor mental health.

Another bit of research in the realm of common sense: roller shoes (like Heeleys) are injuring kids. Wait, if I put wheels on kids feet in crowded public places, they could hurt themselves or others? Really?

In a story that confuses, angers and just downright disturbs: a mother was given a parking ticket because she chose a poor location to breastfeed her infant. The disturbing part? The ticketing officer took photos to prove the charge. Are parking tickets always accompanied by photographic evidence?

Finally, it's a little early, but there is a service that is offering free paternity tests for Father's Day, just in case you don't think you should be celebrated.

Over at Daditorial today, I take a look at an article about diverging EQAO scores and end up talking about responsible reporting.

TRS: A Series Of Unfortunate Events

This weekend, we learned just how resilient toddlers are.

On Friday, MTM and I booked back to back appointments with our RMT, so I did dinner with the munchkin alone. (Technically, I fed her dinner and waited for MTM and I to have dinner alone later on.) The munchkin and I were sitting on the sofa watching Treehouse when Mommy came home, and she immediately asked for Mommy to bathe her and put her to bed, which she did.

Afterward, MTM and I settled in for some dinner and a movie (we watched Deja Vu with Denzel Washington - an excellent film, in our opinion) before an early bedtime due to the morning's plans.

We all woke up quite early on Saturday morning, got ready, and headed down to a street festival in MTM's old neighbourhood. It was sunny, humid and HOT outside, so even with sunscreen and a hat, we were all sweltering. The munchkin enjoyed her "crown" (seen in the images; no, it isn't much more than a dollar store toy strapped to some ribbons; but she liked it) and the parade. She loved all the treats (fresh lemonade, hot dogs, sweets) and just hanging out on Mommy's hip (thank goodness for the sling) and watching the clowns meander about.

She slept a little on the way home, but nowhere near enough. We tried to put her down later on that afternoon, but she refused to sleep. After the failed nap, things started to unravel. She was moody, irritable, and even more fussy than her normally overtired self. We blamed the heat she had experienced earlier in the day. She was also exceptionally clumsy, and at one point was spinning around when she toppled over and struck her ear on the corner of some wooden furniture. She immediately began to wail and soon there was a huge bruise on her left ear. This would come into play later in our weekend.

After a less-than-healthy dinner of tortilla, peas, and applesauce (all the food we could negotiate into her whiny mouth), we offered her the choice of a bath alone, or a shower with Daddy. She chose the shower. So, I went up to wash myself first (nothing more gross than rinsing off your filth onto your child) and she came in after. As I was washing her hair, shampoo got in her eyes, so I picked her up to help rinse her more effectively. Then, I lathered up her louffa and started washing her. She wanted to stand on her own, so I carefully put her down and... whoosh! Her feet slipped out from under her and she fell flat on her back! I quickly picked her up (not even thinking about a spinal injury) and tried to rinse her as fast as I could so she could get to Mommy and begin feeling better.

She came to me as I sat in our room crying because I felt so badly about almost "breaking the baby". She hugged me, and began asking about my tattoos. I told her who had each of the zodiac signs on my arm, and we settled each other down. She went to sleep peacefully.

Sunday we were slotted to spend the better part of the day together while MTM was busy at another street festival working a booth for her work. We started out at the mall so I could do some stuff at Toys R Us (the jumping castle we bought last weekend was on sale this week, so we needed a bill adjustment, as well as a return). We decided to go to an all-day breakfast place for lunch instead of our usual food court, and left the mall shortly before lunch.

I reached the exit to the mall and found a red light. I waited, and the light changed to an advanced left turn. I waited patiently through that, and then it turned green. I accelerated into the intersection (it's on a slight slope) and immediately heard screeching brakes and a horn. I slammed on my brakes and the van suffered a glancing blow across the front passenger corner as another van raced through the red, careened over the curb, took out the power for the traffic lights, and came to a stop about 150 feet from my van.

Being in the middle of an intersection, I advanced ahead and parked the car out of the way of most traffic. Frantic, I jumped out and called MTM and told her what had happened, forgetting to tell her where we were. I then went around to the passenger side to get to the munchkin. Unfortunately, the van's doors locked when it was in gear, so I had to go back and get the keys. Then I went back, forgot that I had the keys, and went back to the driver's side to unlock the doors. The munchkin was sitting in her car seat, waiting patiently for me.

I got myself off the road to discover three people waiting for me to be witnesses. All three wanted to wait for the police to give statements. I called MTM again to tell her where we were and so she knew we were really OK.

While we waited for the police (and ambulance, and fire department), one of the residents of a nearby home came out and offered the munchkin a juice box, which she happily accepted. Then, a neighbour of ours came up to me and asked if I needed help (she had been driving by, recognized us, and stopped to assist). Someone else offered the munchkin a snack if she was hungry. The outpouring of concern was amazing.

When the authorities showed up, everyone focussed on her left ear (whose bruise had ripened quite nicely). Car accident + toddler + bruise on head = head trauma, so everyone was freaking out as I tried to explain that in fact that was an existing injury.

The paramedics were amazing, giving her a stuffed bear and stickers while they assessed her (she was fine, as was I). MTM arrived as we were finishing with the paramedics, and I told her we were lucky it was the van and not the car that I was in. When she asked why, I told her because the van's tire iron is not easily accessible (yes, dear reader, SciFi Dad has a dark side... he is more Darth than Luke some days).

The cop charged the other driver. Apparently he got statements that corroborated my story, so everything should work out OK.

However, the fact remains that had I not reacted the way I did (dead stop in the middle of an intersection), the impact would have been in the rear passenger door - where the munchkin's seat is. We were very lucky that afternoon. More lucky than I care to think about right now.

We went out for dinner last night, in an attempt to make up for the missed lunch. We also had ice cream because, well, because we wanted to have ice cream. And as we sat there, and the munchkin's face was covered in purple, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was living on borrowed time with my little girl. I hope this feeling doesn't last.

TDS: Reflections

Wednesday was the day you turned 26 months old. (Is it wrong that I just think of you as two now? Should I still be considering your age in months at this point?) I usually try to mark every other month with a post, and this time I just forgot. Maybe I need to rethink the whole bi-monthly approach.

As you slid past your second birthday, your marked changes have slowed down. Whereas the first two years were an adventure in leaps and bounds, recently it has been an exercise in the art of subtlety.

Your language has continued to develop, but not so much in vocabulary (certainly you have a bunch of new words in the last couple months, but that isn't so remarkable anymore; you're a sponge, kid, and celebrating you learning words would be like celebrating you breathing). You're becoming more aware of language, of nuances like verb tense ("Did you see a bird outside?" "Yes, I saw a bird, Daddy.") and colloquialisms (one of your favourite affirmative responses is "Sure.")

The biggest change is that you have really taken to potty training. It's taken a little over a month, but you're not wearing diapers anymore (I think you last wore one on Tuesday). Last night you had an accident in your bed, but I think it was because you were too warm, and thus stayed dozy. (Tonight: a onesie and the a/c on full blast, kiddo!) In all seriousness, though, you have really been a trooper through all this. When Mommy told you that you should tell us when you have to pee, even in a diaper, you took it to heart, and would not pee in your diapers all night. Morning after morning we would wake up and you would be so proud of the dry diaper on your bum, and we were too.

You have really taken a shine to dancing, and are becoming more inventive with your moves. You incorporate stuff you learned at Salsa Tots with things you see Mommy and I do, as well as things you make up yourself (my personal favourite being the two-marker snake arms). You loved Salsa Tots so much, you planned to teach your little friend how to salsa yourself (and were none too pleased when they were uninterested).

Your imagination has really taken flight as well. Your favourite game right now is "Once Upon A Time", where Mommy or I start a story with "Once upon a time, there was a girl named" and have you fill in the name (and shockingly, more often than not, the girl is you). We then proceed to frame a basic narrative with pauses for you to fill in the details. You have gone shopping, to the zoo (where you saw the flamingos that were outside their cage) and even to visit relatives in other cities. You love these stories so much.

Sometimes, we just sit and cuddle, and you ask me to cradle you like a little baby. And in my mind I know you're pretending, because you're not a little baby anymore. In truth, sometimes I miss the little helpless infant that would stare at me and occasionally fart on my hand. But for the most part, I like you better now. We interact, we hang out, we talk about your day. I am so proud of the little girl you have become, my munchkin, and I love you more and more each day.

If you're not in the mood for sap, maybe you should head over to Daditorial and check that out. I take a look at a recent daycare probe and look at what was learned.