Case,
This afternoon, before I left for work and after I told you multiple times not to go into the bathroom, I found you in the bathroom painting. As I mentioned previously, I don't want to stunt your creative development, so I ignored the fact you didn't listen to me and let you do your thing. Plus, you were wearing pants, and that's a victory in itself. I didn't want to push it.
As you painted, I started to brush my teeth. You immediately noticed this and wanted in on the action. You love to brush your teeth. Absolutely love it. It's quite shocking how much you love to brush your teeth. You normally end up in front of the mirror in your room brushing your teeth because you get kicked out of the bathroom after 5 minutes or so. You love brushing your teeth. So it was no surprise that you would want to join me in a mutual brushing of teeth. It was however, a bit of a surprise when you looked down at the paint brush you held in your hand, smiled and shoved it into your mouth. Oddly, this didn't seem to bother you. It did bother me, so I quickly removed the paint brush from your mouth, took you out of the shower stall you had been decorating and placed you on the step stool in front of the sink. I then grabbed your toothbrush (By the way, stop using mine; not cool) and put the tiniest amount of regular toothpaste on it. You've expressed your displeasure with the hard stuff previously, but I figured it might be a welcome change since you just shoved a brush full of paint in your mouth.
I was wrong. You flipped out. You screamed, you cried, you flailed for your tongue as if you just ate a dozen habaneros and chased them with turpentine. I calmed you down, washed out your mouth (again), cleaned off your toothbrush and gave it back. You stepped down from the stool and ran right to the mirror in your bathroom to finish your business.
Maybe we'll try putting a little paint on the toothbrush tomorrow. But don't tell your mother.
Love,
Dad
P.S. I got a call from said mother on the way to work and she let me know that she came upon you in the living room, flat on your back, attempting to change your own diaper. She found the one you had been wearing in the garbage. Niiiiiiiice.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Monday, January 13, 2014
In the paint
Case,
I can't keep up with this running blog!
While you remain obsessed with "choo-choos" (ask me someday about the story your mother just told me on the phone, but ask me when no one is around), you recently took on a part-time job as an aspiring painter. Your newest hobby is awesome if for no other reason than it allows me to call you "PiCaseo," a play on words that makes your mother roll her eyes.
This is not only a creative endeavor, but a messy one, too. In addition to painting, you've also taken to rubbing anything that touches your hands into your hair. Luckily your paints are water-based and come out much easier than macaroni and cheese. Otherwise, you'd look like Dennis Rodman circa 1995. Not a good look, although much better than Dennis Rodman circa 2014. Who's Dennis Rodman? He's the greatest rebounding diplomat in American history.
Anyway, your painting jones seems to have started with a bathtub paint set you got for Christmas. You'll also paint in the living room, but you prefer the porcelain confines. So much that you are no longer content to just spend extra time painting during your nightly bath. You've learned how to open any door in the house (which is REALLY annoying), so you've randomly been walking into the bathroom and climbing into the shower stall to create. Day and night in all forms of dress. Pants, no pants, naked. Your mom doesn't like you wearing your shoes in the tub, but other than that, I think it's great that you're an unencumbered artist. No reason to stifle that, right?
Now, to make your mother's eyes roll even more, I've noticed that you gravitate toward a certain color. Given that proclivity, I am now deeming this portion of your young life the "Blue Period," and it's a trend I hope continues because it's infinitely preferable to your previous work, which we all know by now as the "Poo Period."
Keep up the good work, son!
Love,
Dad
I can't keep up with this running blog!
While you remain obsessed with "choo-choos" (ask me someday about the story your mother just told me on the phone, but ask me when no one is around), you recently took on a part-time job as an aspiring painter. Your newest hobby is awesome if for no other reason than it allows me to call you "PiCaseo," a play on words that makes your mother roll her eyes.
This is not only a creative endeavor, but a messy one, too. In addition to painting, you've also taken to rubbing anything that touches your hands into your hair. Luckily your paints are water-based and come out much easier than macaroni and cheese. Otherwise, you'd look like Dennis Rodman circa 1995. Not a good look, although much better than Dennis Rodman circa 2014. Who's Dennis Rodman? He's the greatest rebounding diplomat in American history.
Anyway, your painting jones seems to have started with a bathtub paint set you got for Christmas. You'll also paint in the living room, but you prefer the porcelain confines. So much that you are no longer content to just spend extra time painting during your nightly bath. You've learned how to open any door in the house (which is REALLY annoying), so you've randomly been walking into the bathroom and climbing into the shower stall to create. Day and night in all forms of dress. Pants, no pants, naked. Your mom doesn't like you wearing your shoes in the tub, but other than that, I think it's great that you're an unencumbered artist. No reason to stifle that, right?
Now, to make your mother's eyes roll even more, I've noticed that you gravitate toward a certain color. Given that proclivity, I am now deeming this portion of your young life the "Blue Period," and it's a trend I hope continues because it's infinitely preferable to your previous work, which we all know by now as the "Poo Period."
Keep up the good work, son!
Love,
Dad
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Well, that didn't last long
Case,
Three days into the challenge of writing a blog entry every day and I forgot to write one Friday, Then I forgot to write something before midnight Saturday and all of a sudden I'm two days behind. So new terms: 365 entries in 2014. That's the adjusted goal. Let's hope I don't have to come up with 186 entries at some point in November.
I'm going to blame the first day of the playoffs for tonight's forgetfulness. I got all caught up in a wild 28-point comeback by Andrew Luck and the Colts against the Chiefs. Not too surprising that the Chiefs choked; that's what they do. Then again, when Luck goes down as the next John Elway, the collapse won't look so bad. The second game wasn't as thrilling, but it came down to the last play. The Saints won on a field goal as time expired against the Eagles after Drew Brees led his team down the field in the final minutes. Three things you need to know about Drew Brees: This was his first career road playoff win; no quarterback ever got more out of his abilities; and he saved New Orleans four years after Hurricane Katrina.
When I started typing this, you were still jumping in your crib in the middle of the night. And now I just heard you again. Gotta be honest, son, this staying up past midnight is an annoying trend. You're 2. Go to bed.
The plan is to take you out to breakfast in the morning and let your mom sleep in. But if you don't go to bed soon, you'll be sleeping on my shoulder through the whole meal.
On second thought, that would make a good blog entry, See ya in seven hours!
Love,
Dad
Three days into the challenge of writing a blog entry every day and I forgot to write one Friday, Then I forgot to write something before midnight Saturday and all of a sudden I'm two days behind. So new terms: 365 entries in 2014. That's the adjusted goal. Let's hope I don't have to come up with 186 entries at some point in November.
I'm going to blame the first day of the playoffs for tonight's forgetfulness. I got all caught up in a wild 28-point comeback by Andrew Luck and the Colts against the Chiefs. Not too surprising that the Chiefs choked; that's what they do. Then again, when Luck goes down as the next John Elway, the collapse won't look so bad. The second game wasn't as thrilling, but it came down to the last play. The Saints won on a field goal as time expired against the Eagles after Drew Brees led his team down the field in the final minutes. Three things you need to know about Drew Brees: This was his first career road playoff win; no quarterback ever got more out of his abilities; and he saved New Orleans four years after Hurricane Katrina.
When I started typing this, you were still jumping in your crib in the middle of the night. And now I just heard you again. Gotta be honest, son, this staying up past midnight is an annoying trend. You're 2. Go to bed.
The plan is to take you out to breakfast in the morning and let your mom sleep in. But if you don't go to bed soon, you'll be sleeping on my shoulder through the whole meal.
On second thought, that would make a good blog entry, See ya in seven hours!
Love,
Dad
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Milk
Case,
Judging by your pound-a-day cheese habit, you're not lactose intolerant, which means you can spend your lifetime enjoying the greatest beverage of them all — milk.
Now, just as with any kind of drinking, there are rules when it comes to milk:
1) ALL milk is good. Skim. 1 percent. 2 precent. Whole. (Note: Buttermilk is not milk; I don't know what it is, but it was invented by the Obama administration to soften Americans up, so avoid it.)
2) The colder the milk, the better.
3) Milk is at its best when consumed from the container in which it was bought. This is a fact that will horrify most women in your life, but don't listen to them; they don't understand. It's science. Milk was intended to be chugged in the middle of the kitchen with the refrigerator door wide open. Wearing sweatpants is optional, but encouraged, for this activity. Aside from the taste, the primary benefit to drinking milk this way is that it prevents others from drinking it. Remember, it's YOUR milk. Drink it the way God intended.
Love,
Dad
Judging by your pound-a-day cheese habit, you're not lactose intolerant, which means you can spend your lifetime enjoying the greatest beverage of them all — milk.
Now, just as with any kind of drinking, there are rules when it comes to milk:
1) ALL milk is good. Skim. 1 percent. 2 precent. Whole. (Note: Buttermilk is not milk; I don't know what it is, but it was invented by the Obama administration to soften Americans up, so avoid it.)
2) The colder the milk, the better.
3) Milk is at its best when consumed from the container in which it was bought. This is a fact that will horrify most women in your life, but don't listen to them; they don't understand. It's science. Milk was intended to be chugged in the middle of the kitchen with the refrigerator door wide open. Wearing sweatpants is optional, but encouraged, for this activity. Aside from the taste, the primary benefit to drinking milk this way is that it prevents others from drinking it. Remember, it's YOUR milk. Drink it the way God intended.
Love,
Dad
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
One down, 364 to go
Case,
I came across a suggestion the other day that one's New Year's resolution should be to write every day. It reminded me that I started this blog with that very idea. I was going to write every day about parenthood, life lessons, football, music, etc. Well, the thing about parenthood is that it quickly taught me this lesson: I don't have the time and/or energy to keep up with this blog every day. Hell, there are a not insignificant amount of days each year in which I am so harried and lost in thought that I simply forget to eat during the course of the day.
But …
I need a challenge.
So …
I'm going to resolve right here, right now to write something, anything on this blog every single day of 2014.
Let's see how this goes.
Love,
Dad
I came across a suggestion the other day that one's New Year's resolution should be to write every day. It reminded me that I started this blog with that very idea. I was going to write every day about parenthood, life lessons, football, music, etc. Well, the thing about parenthood is that it quickly taught me this lesson: I don't have the time and/or energy to keep up with this blog every day. Hell, there are a not insignificant amount of days each year in which I am so harried and lost in thought that I simply forget to eat during the course of the day.
But …
I need a challenge.
So …
I'm going to resolve right here, right now to write something, anything on this blog every single day of 2014.
Let's see how this goes.
Love,
Dad
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