So THIS Is Age 3?

Owen has been needing a haircut, so I decided to take care of it while he was watching some tv this morning. During the trim, I was trying to even up the front. He decided to look down despite repeated statements telling him to hold his head still and even trying to keep my hand under his chin. The clippers are very good and caused me to have to take about 1/8" more off than I would have liked to even things up. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Lloyd Christmas from Dumb and Dumber:


One of these two is insane and the other is a lunatic.

From the moment the haircut was over on, he has been channeling Dumb and Dumber. Rather than try to recount humorous anecdotes about each little incident, I'm just going to list the ones I can remember:

1. Trip to CVS to get more cough syrup for Daddy. I promised him a treat if he stayed with me and didn't touch anything. Treat lost 3 seconds and less than 10 feet into the front door. Earned his first timeout since he turned 3 two weeks ago for not listening.

2. Despite being warned repeatedly not to touch the Christmas decorations waiting for the tree, told that Santa doesn't bring presents to bad little boys, and threats of force, he dumped a package of ornament hangars on the floor, resulting in the 2nd timeout since he turned 3.

3. It took a LOT of crying to get upstairs for quiet time. Even though he's been sick and looked exhausted.

4. During 'quiet time' in his room, there was no napping. Julie heard him crying. When she opened the door, he was climbing the bookshelf in his closet. Books? All over the floor.

5. Snack time consisted of carrots and hummus, which he normally likes but he wasn't interested today. Based on general surlyness, we decided to get out of the house. As soon as I got his shoes, coat, and hat on, he put a carrot in his mouth. After being 90% chewed, it was spit out on his train table and one of Lily's baby toys.

6. While I was cleaning carrot 1 up, another 90% chewed carrot was spit back into his Mommy's bowl of carrots. Mommy loudly questioned, "Could you get any more gross?" Challenge accepted Mommy.

7. Immediately after Mommy's statement, a giant booger was pulled and placed on the bill of his hat. The other end was still attached to the source.

8. Immediately after attaching one to the hat, he rubbed and spread everything all over his face.

9. Immediately after spreading it all over his face with Mommy recoiling in horror, he decided it was huggin' time, complete with burying of the face in Mommy's clothes.

10. After wiping everyone/thing down, we headed out the door. Where he picked up his little stack of safety cones and threw them down the stairs.

11. The first 5 minutes of our 10 minute journey were spent whining. The last 5 were spent passed out. When we got out of the car, he cried.

12. Rather than play at the little table of toys in the country store we went to, he wanted to play with all of the wares. The owner and I laughed at him carrying around a wedge of wood painted like a watermelon slice while he tried to eat it. Of course, he dropped it. Thankfully it didn't break.

13. He's been excited about Christmas trees for 2 weeks and I asked him to help me pick one out at the country store. Lily was screaming for no apparent reason and he choked. Couldn't commit, was overwhelmed, and later upset I made the call without his input.

14. Driving home, he cried because I wouldn't give him the other half of the homemade fried apple pie he ate at the store. That's Daddy's half.

15. He cried because I got him and his sister out of the car to take inside and out of the cold and cold rain. He wanted me to take the Christmas tree in the house instead of the girl baby.

16. When we got home, he decided to go potty by himself using the male standing method. He soaked the front of his pants, shirt, and jacket.

17. Dinner tonight included edamame in the pod. He got the beans out of the pod by squeezing them to fire them across the dinner table and going to retrieve them. Okay, this one was pretty fun.

18. More crying to get him upstairs for bath time. I know there was a third timeout in there, but I don't recall when or why.

19. Me: "Owen, can you please take your pants and socks off for bath time? I'll help you with your shirt in just a second." Apparently, he was a little impatient:

20. Bath time included his first cannonball. And more 'stricken u-boat commander' impressions.

21. After drying him and the floor off, he got his 18th wind. We had the Tasmanian Devil doing laps around our bedroom. There were two naked timeouts, a first for this family, because I couldn't get him out of there and into his room for pajamas.

22. After avoiding a third timeout because I picked him up and carried him into his room, there was more crying. Averted because Mommy came in for a hug.

23. He refused book reading and crawled into his book shelf. "I can't come out, I need a hug and Mommy."

24. He finally got into bed with the Target toy catalog and we spent 15 minutes flipping through. During those 15, he was the cutest little boy in the world. I think I'll let him live another 24 hours. Unless he acts like he did this afternoon.

CK

Hypothetical Scenario 2

Let's say you had to run into a store with a 3 year old on the loose. Would it be terrible to use the free balloon at the end of the store visit as leverage to try to keep him from walking backwards down the aisles, grabbing everything in sight, spinning around randomly, and running in S patterns? A Daddy wouldn't be a horrible Daddy if he said, "Stay with me, or you won't get a balloon when we leave," every 4 seconds, right?

When the balloon has been obtained and tied around said 3 year old's wrist and we walk out of the store, how many times should I, I mean someone who is definitely not me, have to say things like, "Hey, stay with me. Pay attention. Don't walk into that trash...never mind, does your head hurt now? Hold my hand crossing the street."

And when some random 3 year old throws his hands into the air during some random spin/dance move resulting in the balloon slipping off his wrist and floating away, would anyone be a terrible father for using that as a teaching moment? A teaching moment that involves saying something like, "Your balloon ran away because you weren't listening to Daddy and running all over the place."

If you saw a red balloon floating above Gilead Road about 4:30 PM today, I have no idea where it came from. Thankfully, some random 3 year old didn't have a meltdown and seemed to understand that life is full of disappointment, but only if you don't listen to your Daddy and do exactly what he tells you to.

CK

Addendum to 15 and 1/2 Inch World

We are in Atlanta for the wife's company meeting for a couple of days. Drove down yesterday and checked into the hotel around 4 PM. It took about 3 minutes in the room for Owen to drop trou, find the potty, and spray the wall. It wasn't even too high. I think he just got a little excited about being in a new place.

At least I wasn't in the hotel room at the time. But don't worry, the universe has a great sense of humor. The faucet in our little kitchenette fell off the sink and water sprayed into the air soaking the counter and, of course, me.

CK

It's a 15 And 1/2 Inch World

Since it's been way too long since I cracked a good poop joke or gave you an update on my brilliant potty training efforts, here we go. I should definitely be paid for potty training, really no accidents during the day or at night in a long time. Sure, we have an occasional leak because we're playing on a playground, strapped into the car seat to extend his nap, etc. The wife gets a high 5 for suggesting we leave his little training potty in his room at night. But really no incidents. It might be our greatest accomplishment as parents to date, makes us feel like we are raising a human instead of a third dog.

He's really good at dropping his own pants and wandering into the bathroom to do his own business if we're occupied and can't help him. He knows how to flush and we'll eventually learn how to return pants to their original upright and locked position. All in good time.

Our toilet stands 15 inches high and is the perfect height to keep everything within the designated firing zone. When you get out into the world, the toilet height can vary significantly, often being less than 15 inches, and horror of horrors, 15 and 1/2 inches or higher. Since wee bladders are activated by being out in public, we know the locations of all the bathrooms at the stores, parks, and Doctor's offices in the area. We visited the Doctor last week to get him diagnosed with pink eye and pick up a prescription. Since we were in and out of the Doc's fast, his bladder didn't trigger until we were in the pharmacy (to remain nameless so we are allowed back - I'd also hate for other little boy Daddies to miss out on this experience). Hint: Commode Very Substantial.

We entered the bathroom and went through the pre-flight checklist. Pants down, underwear out of the way, step up to the plate...oh crap. We hit a 15 and 1/2 inch toilet. The firing mechanism is located at 15 and 1/4 inch above the floor slab. In this situation, you have to calculate the angle of attack in order to arc up and into the target in more of an indirect firing procedure than a typical point and shoot.

Two minor problems:

1. You have about 0.3 seconds between unveiling of the weapon and commencement of the firing.
2. Your peeing contest prowess is inversely proportional to your height. The smaller you are, the farther you can propel. He can easily clear his height and then some.

I couldn't get him to hold it long enough to pick him up. We didn't have a spare pair of pants so I had to protect them at all costs. And you try explaining the finer points of getting up on your tippy-toes to a 3 year old mid-stream. I made a snap decision that the bathroom walls were covered in that linoleum wall sheeting and would be the safest target. I didn't recall giving him 4 gallons of juice before we left the house, but his bladder apparently thought so.

We wrecked this bathroom. Ever seen an old black and white war movie where the submarine gets hit? I know what that stricken U-Boat crew feels like. After damage control shut down the leak, I reached for the paper towel dispenser. Of course it was empty. I started to go for the toilet paper to leave the next inhabitant in a terrible situation, but thankfully there was a free-standing roll of towels sitting next to the toilet and we mopped up as best we could. Well, I cleaned up while he tried to open the door and walk back into the store with his pants around his ankles. I'm happy to say the ankle pants held nary a drop of urine.

I learned a very important lesson. Always carry a tape measure when you leave the house.

CK

Is She Your Baby?

I do all the cooking and grocery shopping in the house because the wife is...questionable...in the kitchen. Used to have a great little ritual that got me to the store on Sunday then home with a sub from their deli and the week's groceries about 1 PM. Perfect during the fall for the early NFL games. For some reason, I kind of switched to taking the kids on Mondays and learned that an entirely different clientele inhabits the grocery stores and Targets of the world during normal weekday business hours.

Weekend shoppers are often carrying a case of terrible beer, a bag of chips, and charcoal. They are too busy yelling at their kids to acknowledge your little darlings screaming about the free balloon and cookie. The weekday shoppers generally lived through the Great Depression and move at a pace that doesn't take much motivation. I have witnessed complaints over cans of peas listed at 57 cents when they were supposed to be 50 cents. Not much beer in the carts, it's been replaced with fiber supplements and cat food.

The weekday folks love talking to babies and little boys riding along with Daddy. ESPECIALLY when it's just Lily and me. I should constantly wear a shirt that says "She (she - she's a SHE) is x-months old, never smiles at strangers, and she looks like her Mommy AND Daddy."

Occasionally, I get some odd ball questions or comments. I was stopped in Target one day for Granny to coo at Lily in her blue and white polka-dot dress with yellow flowers and ribbons. Granny asked how old _he_ was, and I responded with, "She is 6 months old." I might as well have kicked her in the shin. She was really upset and berated me for putting a little girl in blue and that only little boys should wear blue. I tried to crack my usual joke when people get gender wrong(all babies look like old men with gas) but she wasn't having it. It's probably a good thing I could outrun her with a brisk walk.


Am I a boy, girl, or nursing home patient that hasn't gotten their pudding?

I've had people tell me that Lily looks just like me and others say she looks nothing like me. I've been asked what color Mom's hair is. If we're doing cloth diapers (why do you want to know that?). But the best conversation ever left me speechless at the end of it.

This lady spied Lily and me in the store while Owen and Mommy were hanging back home. I could tell there was going to be a conversation. Most people will make a googley eye as they pass or say hello, but this lady lit up at 100 yards. She wanted to know everything. Birth weight, Mom's hair color, religion, preferred college choice (definitely all-girls school, 150 miles from any boys). I was polite, but it was getting ridiculous. Finally, this woman asked if Lily was my daughter, waited about 15 seconds for me to blink at her and spit out an "Uhm...yeeeeesssss?" while I was trying to figure out if this is a trick question. As soon as my response was out, she turned and RAN. This lady was moving like she was storming the beaches of Normandy, just gone.

What the? I looked at Lily and she looked at me, and we made an important Daddy-Daughter bonding decision. From that moment on, she stares blankly at people and I tell them she doesn't smile at weirdos.

CK

The Toys 'R Us Big Book

If you're an animate life form, you clearly know that Christmas is coming. Halloween is still warm and Thanksgiving is tens of days away, but there's only 52 more shopping days left for you to express your love of Capitalism or the terrorists win. I don't think Owen quite realizes what's in store come 12-25. I don't think he really understands what's happening on 11-16, his third birthday, either.

Don't get me wrong, he TOTALLY understands the joy of unwrapping a present. Anyone receiving a gift in any situation causes him to clap, yell Happy Birthday, and try to help open any gifts that remain wrapped. Wrapping paper must be destroyed immediately.

We held a surprise baby sprinkle for my cousin last weekend. Terminology lesson: a sprinkle is like a smaller baby shower for people who already have kids. I am an adult male. As soon as the gifts came out, Owen started yelling 'Happy Birthday!' and had to help open up presents that weren't for him, or even immediate family members. Thankfully, my cousin graciously let him open one or we might have had some crying.

Yesterday afternoon, the wife had the kids while I was running around doing adult work. Owen went into her closet to punish her since she was selfishly changing the sheets on our bed instead of giving him 100% attention. That's where he discovered our secret stash of wrapping paper. Wrapping paper has to be the greatest toy ever. It's a present that has all the ecstasy of ripping apart the paper and when the paper is gone... Oh. My. God. It's a 3 FOOT CARDBOARD TUBE.

Or should I say, it's a trumpet telescope megaphone funny noise amplifier sword bridge for Thomas the tank engine thing that can be jumped up and down on. It is WAY cooler than the $550 swingset or the *insert any toy above $20 here*. Yes, I'm still bitter about how he'd rather run around in the backyard with a stick than play on the swingset.

We got the Toys 'R Us Big Book a few days ago in the mail, followed closely by the Target Toy Sale catalog and this has opened up a whole new world. Since receiving the catalogs, they have been studiously poured over and are getting pretty ragged at this point. He kept asking to go potty with his 'Magazine' and I wasn't sure what he was saying until he ran past me to find it on the floor. He spent 15 minutes in there looking through it and making random comments. "Wow, look at that!" and "It's a crane!"

Our bedtime story last night was the Target toy catalog. I was trying to ask him things like: "What numbers are those? What color is that truck? How many night jobs will Mommy need to get to afford everything you want in this catalog?" He wants no part in the learning, just to point at stuff and announce, "That's cool!"

He pointed at a picture of two boys playing with a racetrack. One kid's car obviously lost and that kid was giving the classic hand on his head frustration pose. Owen pointed him out and announced that the boy hurt his head. Opportunity! I told Owen that the boy hurt his head because he was bad. I might have told him Santa hits bad little boys in the head and doesn't bring them toys.

So, this birthday and Christmas, I'm going to the Dollar Store and getting a multi-pack of birthday wrapping paper and Christmas wrapping paper. He can destroy reams of paper, get an embarrassment of cardboard tube riches, and I'm out like $2.17 and win yet another Father-of-the-Year award.

CK

Darn This Ancient Technology

Owen mastered iPod several months ago. He knows where to find his games in various folders. He can access Netflix, go to the Instant Queue, and play an age-appropriate show. Of course, he also knows that if he accesses Daddy's blood and guts games or plays the Nazi Zombie movie, there will be a magic trick performed before his very eyes. He'll get thumped and the iPod will vanish into thin air (Daddy's pocket).

It's pretty fantastic, I have used the iPod to pacify the beast in the grocery store, doctor's office, car, while I'm on the phone, and so on. Maybe being overly plugged in is bad for them, but being assaulted by an angry mob for the screaming kid in a store is also bad for us.

The problem we've found is that Owen expects all electronics and even stuff that is not electronic to be magically wonderful like all Apple products. Touch screens are Awe. Some. So EVERYTHING should have a touch screen, right? The tv, the digital camera, screen door, laptop computers, windows, the light switch when viewed through the digital camera. That was hilarious. He's trying to flip the light switch through the camera viewer. Who's raising this kid?

It's funny, but it's kind of annoying when he's trying to swipe the tv to get to his shows. Oddly enough, lil' boys have greasy, sticky, and snotty fingers and this material is now on our expensive media devices. After Owen is finished with my iPod, I usually need to take a pressure washer to it. With bleach. And antimicrobial soap.

We try to explain to him that some electronic devices require a remote control, oh the horror! He is pretty excited about the fact that he doesn't have to un-ass himself from his chair to select the next show on Netflix. A real man. Especially since he's learned that weekends mean "Daddy needs to watch football!"

I feel like next year will be the year that I teach him how to yell at missed tackles and second guess the coaches. I just hope he doesn't think he can take a Sharpie to the tv to diagram plays like the announcers.

CK