Sundays, Getting Into Character, and Progress

One of our son's favorite books is called, "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." That describes our Sunday mornings. Sundays are not a day of rest in the morning while getting the kids ready for church, trying to get out the door, getting to our seats just after the meeting starts, juggling three kids and their snacks and toys without distracting the people around us (surely futile), etc. The afternoons are much better. We get home, eat lunch, relax, and play. Which brings me to acting.

My son asked me to be his assistant fire fighter, while he pretended to be the captain. Together we put out several fires in our living room. At first, I was half-heartedly going along with it. I noticed, however, that he began to lose his enthusiasm for the game. I decided to take my acting more seriously. I always remembered to get the pretend hose, and I actually began aiming it and making the proper sound effects, while he rescued pretend people from the fire and threw them in the back of the truck. His enthusiasm for the game increased again. He even let me drive the truck. He can obviously tell when I'm really into it or just playing along. When I'm just playing along, it ruins the game and seems to make him feel a little silly for wanting to play it in the first place. When I get into it, we both have a blast.

Now for progress. We had dinner in the car on the way to a family member's house, so no report on our son's appreciation (or lack thereof) for my wife's cooking. However, our daughter is beginning to understand "big voice" and "little voice." Now, all we have to do is remind her to use her little voice. I realized I needed to make some progress too. My wife helped me realize that part of the reason our daughter calls our names so much is so that she can talk to us more--she can talk much better now, so she is looking for excuses to practice talking. That is also part of the reason she often repeats her questions and answers. I've noticed she also does it with our son. I've been a little slow to pick up on this, but its already made a big difference in my thinking. Whereas before it was something I wanted to stop, now it is something I want to encourage--as long as it is with a little voice.

Moments of Truth

We didn't get to work with our son again on dinner manners because of another Halloween party. As far as our daughter constantly yelling  for our attention, not much progress. We were reading "Good Night Moon" tonight, and our daughter kept yelling, "Daddy! Moon!" I said, "Honey, use your quiet voice," but it made no difference. She kept yelling, "Daddy! Moon!" with every page. Usually it's pretty frustrating, but tonight I couldn't help but laugh as she yelled to me throughout the entire book, despite the fact that I was sitting right next to her.

Despite a lack of progress with our daughter, our son really surprised us tonight. He gets a weekly allowance, which we let him put in jars labelled after things he wants to save for. His sister's birthday is coming up, so he gave us some of his allowance to pay for a gift that he is really excited to give her, one he picked out. But he kept insisting on giving us money. We didn't understand why and kept explaining that we pay for his birthday gift. He said that he wanted his sister to be able to get him something for his birthday too. We said she would help us get him a gift. Then he insisted on giving us some of his allowance again and said, "but she doesn't have any money." It was so sweet that we decided to let him give his money to his sister so that she would have some money to buy his birthday gift.

Big Voice, Little Voice

Our son did not have to suffer tonight through any experiments on getting him to stop complaining about dinners, because we had dinner at a Halloween party. But, I did try something new to get our little girl to realize the difference between loud and soft voices. We played a game called big voice, little voice. I'd say, "Let's use a big voice." Then we'd hold our arms out wide and yell, "Mommy! Daddy!"--which is what she always does. Then I'd say, "Now let's use a little voice." Then we'd cup our hands around our mouths and whisper, "Mommy. Daddy." She seems to like the game, so we'll see what happens.

Epilogue to Pumpkin Carving: Authority and Respect

After the pumpkin carving last night, the rest of the night was disastrous. Our son kept getting out of bed. We finally refused to tuck him back in again, and he just waited in his room until after 10 pm. My wife and I were pretty fed up. It is interesting how easily I get offended when our kids just flat out refuse to acknowledge our authority as parents. My wife is a little more thick-skinned. Thinking about this since last night has helped me to answer two important questions? First, where do parents get their authority? Second, how can we tell if our kids respect it?

As to the first question, I realized very quickly that saying, "Because I'm the Daddy" doesn't work. I wish it did, because sometimes I can't come up with any better reason. In reality, time, attention, and trying to set a good example of what we teach builds our childrens' trust, including acknowledging when I make mistakes. That trust is my source of authority.

As to the second question, even having their total love and trust does not guarantee absolute obedience from even the best kids. I think we do have the best kids, but we still couldn't convince our son to go to bed last night. Obviously, there has to be some other way that they show us that they love and respect us. Tonight I was reminded of at least one way. After reading to my son, I talked to him about last night and apologized for getting angry. Then my son said something that he's often said before, "It's okay. Sometimes Daddy's make mistakes." It reminded me that even if he has moments of downright rebellion, he definitely respects me as his father, because he forgives my mistakes.

Now, for the next few days I need to keep these things in mind as my wife and I try to bring about two important changes: First, we want our son to stop complaining about what my wife makes for dinner. No matter what it is, he always starts dinner saying, "I don't like this!" The only exception is German Pancakes. Second, our little girl yells our names repeatedly as if everything she wants to tell us is a matter of life or death. It doesn't matter how much we listen to her. She wants us our total attention all the time. She needs to learn to keep her voice down and to wait until we can respond. I have no idea how to accomplish either of these things, but I'm sure this epiphany will remind me how to approach these issues.

Pumpkin Carving

You never know what's going to happen with six pumpkins, two sharp knives, and three kids up past their bedtimes. To our surprise and relief, there were no fights or injuries, and the jack-o-lanterns even turned out well. It's no secret that cupcakes, ice cream, and discipline-free mess making help to buy-off the kids a little. But, even when the sugar wears out, there's still "Finding Nemo" to keep the kids happy until the parents finish the carving that remained after the kids' attention spans expired.

I wish I could say it was smooth sailing the rest of the night too, but . . . more on that tomorrow.

Our Own Little Torture Device

Years ago my wife and I visited the Wisconsin Dells and noticed a random museum--a torture device museum.  It was not a gore museum, and I still don't know what possessed us to go inside. I remember one funny muzzle used to punish gossipers. Now that I have children, I realize that one device was missing from that collection. It is a torture device used on children that has been around for centuries and continues to be popular today, though not as popular as it used to be. We've been in denial for generations. It's called the dinner table.

At least it seemed like a torture device tonight with all of the whining, screaming, and escape attempts we witnessed. It would probably also qualify as a device to torture parents.

Avoiding Baby Faces

Second night in a row that had to get up in the middle of the night because one of our children started screaming. Congestion one night. Too hot the next night. Also the second morning in a row getting up before 5:30 am to feed our baby.* I'm sure mothers reading this, especially those we know with multiples, have no sympathy for me. But they should. I've heard mothers have a hormone that allows their bodies to cope with lack of sleep. There is no such hormone for men. Either way, my day began feeding our baby before the crack of dawn. Normally, she lets me set her down in the bouncy seat so that I can make her bottle. I can't do it with one hand. I don't have that hormone either. Every time I tried, she cried. It was so frustrating that I couldn't look her in her cute little face, because it would ruin my anger. That set the tone for the morning.

Getting frustrated with my baby girl made me frustrated at myself. Then, on the way to catch the bus, I ran across the busy street between me and the bus stop when there was a large and safe gap in the traffic. But the bus driver didn't think it was safe, and he proceeded to give me an embarrassing lecture on safety at no extra cost. Work went well, and gradually the frustration and embarrassment of the morning began to subside. By the time I came home, I was ready to look my kids in the face again and let them cheer me up. It was touch-and-go for a little while during the chaos of dinner. Then, my wife and I finished the night looking through the 6-month old pictures of the same baby girl I was mad at this morning. I was right, her little face dissipated any remaining grumpiness.

*I should mention that my wife always gets up in the middle of the night with the kids and has forbidden me to get up before 5:30 am, but I have been doing it for two reasons: (1) I wanted to help because she had a busy week, and (2) it's a natural reaction to hearing one of our kids cry (or scream) at night. Issue 1 is now resolved. I don't want to help anymore! Issue 2 is much trickier. On the one hand, my concern for my kids is becoming more tempered at night now that they are older. On the other hand, I can't shake the fear that one crying child will quickly lead to three crying children and a long long night, and I don't want to give up the rare moments when my kids let me comfort them. They're so tired, they may not even know it's me. But I'm okay tricking my kids into needing me sometimes.

Life or Death

Our son refused to put his Sunday shirt under his sweater, so I took the opportunity to apply what my wife has been telling me from her parenting book. I decided getting dressed was a must, so I offered him the following choices:

-"You can either put it on now or go into time-out until you're ready to listen." My son swipes at my hand holding his Sunday shirt, and I say, "Okay. You chose a time-out."

-My son resists sitting in the time-out chair, so I say, "You can either sit here or in your room." He continues to resist, and I take him up to his room and say, "Okay. You chose your room."

-He tries to leave the room, so I say, "You can either have time-out with the door open or closed." He leaves the room again, so I say, "Okay. You chose door closed."

-He tries to open the door, so I say, "You can either have the door locked or unlocked." He tries to open it again, so I lock the door and say, "Okay. You chose locked."

He calmed down, and we went back downstairs to talk and get him dressed. At that point my wife said, "Just let him try it his way and learn for himself." Sure enough, by trying his clothes on the way he wanted he decided to reverse many of his strong opinions. I felt that all of my effort to successfully employ the choices tactic was wasted, and it really turned out to be a miserable failure. I later confessed to my wife that I mostly felt disappointed in myself for getting so easily frustrated. I said, "Sometimes I just don't know which battles to pick." She wisely responded, "Sometimes you should only pick the battles that are life or death, and what our son wears to church isn't life or death." Once I got over my wounded pride, I benefited a lot from her advice.

Cause and Effect

This morning my wife made one of our favorites for breakfast, a delicious, thick, blue berry, strawberry, black berry, and banana fruit smoothie to go with our German pancakes. My son and I drink every last drop within minutes of starting breakfast. Our little girl typically doesn't finish hers, so we look forward to devouring what she doesn't finish. After turning my head away for only a second, I heard my son yell, "No!" I whipped my head back around to find fruit smoothie all over my little girl, the table, her booster seat, and the floor. The look on her face was one of fascination, rather then guilt. I immediately cleaned her off and put her in time-out. How could she waste something so good! I told my wife that it was a dumb thing to do. Like any good mom, she immediately jumped to her defense: "It wasn't dumb. She was experimenting. Kids that age love to learn cause and effect. Don't stifle her creativity!" I let our daughter out of time-out and responded, "Now she knows that the effect of dumping her food is a time-out. There will come a time when you'll want me to stifle that 'creativity' of hers." As luck would have it, we had spaghetti for dinner tonight. Our little girl's "creativity"--which apparently  is a euphemism for messiness--sparked up again, resulting in noodles all over the table and floor. My wife and I looked at each other knowingly and laughed. Although I helped get her to stop, I had to fight hard to suppress a compelling urge to say, "I'm not going to stifle her creativity!"

Good Night Moon

Before we had kids, I imagined what the bedtime routine would be like: baths, books, prayers, songs, and bed.  As they've grown older, the bedtime routine has begun to include things I never foresaw. For example, sometimes our daughter feels the need to "honk" my nose before bed, which is fine with me if that's what it takes for her to go to bed happily. But the latest craze is going outside to say goodnight to the moon. They beg for it. They could care less how cold it is outside. They run out and look for it. Once they find it, it enraptures them.  Once they leave it, they're heartbroken. But I love watching them do it. Their faces are filled with innocence and wonder at the moon, even conveying a strange familiarity with it. This new element of our bedtime routine has really been inspiring.

Playing Ball in the House . . .

. . . I highly recommend it, if the alternative is to put off a promise to play together. The day tends to pick up speed in the evenings, and promises to play together tend to get harder to keep. Before we know it, we're in our pajamas, ready for bed, and much too tired to play. Interestingly, Emerson said that we remember most the things we love the most or hate the most. I think kids love nothing more than a meaningful promise and hate nothing more than an empty one. So, whether we keep them or not, kids always remember our promises. Having already bargained with my son to postpone a game together once, we went downstairs after the girls when to bed and played soccer in the living room. One might argue that this was a bad idea given the risk that careless 3-4-year olds would break something. Putting aside the fact that we own nothing of value, I disagree with that argument. I've noticed that when my son has my undivided attention, he takes great care to maintain my trust, make me proud, and even mimic me. Sure, there is a risk, especially if I'm careless, but it diminishes significantly when playing ball in the house means keeping a promise to spend quality time together.

Turning Back the Pages

I am not speaking metaphorically. This is really what happens whenever I read to my little girl before bed. She turns the pages back so many times that we set the world record for the slowest finishers of a board book. She obviously doesn't appreciate the amount of effort that goes into reading to her! To fathers, nightly reading is not merely a way to sedate children before bed, it is a medium for developing a love for reading and learning, a habit of finishing what you start, and, in our case, a familiarity with a second language. The sad irony is that pushing the second and third goals to hard may seriously undermine the first. But, focusing on the first enables the second and third. As with everything else, this dawned on me only recently. So, as I read tonight, I let my little girl stop me, turn back the pages, and show me "moon," "house," "cat," and "food." We did that throughout the book, and with each word she would show me, I would repeat back the Spanish translation.

Biter Biscuits? I Don't Get It.

I would like someone to explain to me the concept of biter biscuits. We've used them with all three kids, and giving one to our baby girl before dinner reminded me why they make no sense. They are for babies who can't eat solids. Yet shortly after coming into contact with their saliva, large pieces break off in their mouths. They gag and choke until I stick my finger in my baby's mouth to get the chunks out, but it usually comes at the cost of some crunching on my finger. On top of being life- and finger- threating, they are a mess. They melt in your hands, not in your mouth. The explanation I get for why we use them? They keep babies quiet and happy so that we can eat. Big problem: babies don't have the motor skills to keep hold of them for very long. Dinner is spent playing catcher while our daughter involuntarily plays pitcher.

Going Out to Dinner

We've done it before, but the older the kids get the more complex going out to dinner gets. The following is a chronological break-down of events:

5:50 pm - family picks me up at the train station
6:00 pm - arrive at the restaurant
6:01 pm - assigned to a table, not a booth, we both worry that we won't be able to contain the kids
6:02 pm - host struggles to sets highchair upside down for infant seat but can't figure out how to secure it
6:05 pm - we request a booth
6:06 pm - infant seat doesn't fit, must set it perpendicular to bench between the bench and the table
6:08 pm - baby girl gets restless, starts wrestling with toddler boy in the bench (won't seat together in future)
6:10 pm - infant girl starts to fuss for dinner, begin feeding cold peas sideways to infant, she won't touch it
6:11 pm - baby girl begins to scream for no apparent reason
6:12 pm - I take baby girl into hallway to talk, we decide on sitting her in a high chair
6:15 pm - baby girl calm in high chair
6:20 pm - we order, thankfully our toddler can actually tell us what he wants
6:25 pm - genius restaurant brings kids' food right away
6:30 pm - blessed adult food!
6:31 pm - toddler eating happily, baby bored and wants out, infant tired and hungry, both cry again
6:35 pm - baby wrestles toddler again, knocks his head into wall, he cries (forgot to keep them separate)
6:36 pm - infant gets baby's leftovers, crumbles them all over me bench and floor (table remains unblemished)
6:40 pm - adult food gone, not sure where it went, but we think we ate it
6:45 pm - both adults standing and rocking the girls, while toddler finishes food
6:50 pm - ice cream! toddler eats it up, baby girl loves feeding it to me and my wife and saying, "Dat nummy Mommy? Dat nummy Daddy?", I'm bouncing fussy infant on lap
6:55 pm - pack up, pay, and leave
7:00 pm - kids climb steps and have some fun outside restaurant
7:05 pm - race to the car, toddler runs into the sliding door and hurts his arm
7:06 pm - my wife calms the toddler, while I try to catch and buckle in baby girl trying to get into driver seat
7:10 pm - bed time routine

Although things seem to have happened in rapid succession, it did not feel that quick to us. We had several moments where we were relaxed, laughing, and enjoying each other. Perhaps having children speeds us up, so that while we perceive time moving naturally, outsiders looking in see us moving like hummingbirds.

I'm also looking at these 5-6 minute increments, wondering what parents would make if they billed like attorneys. No down time, very productive, very long hours. I think we'd make millions.

Retaliatory Parenting--By the Kids!

There are times when I feel like I have to make a sudden noise to recall the kids back to this world from whatever world hypnotized them into forgetting their own names and believing that whatever they were just doing was okay. My daughter was swinging her spaghetti noodles around like a lasso and would not respond when I repeatedly called her name. Needing to get her attention quickly to prevent a disaster, I quickly slapped my hand against  the surface of the dinner table. Apparently she thought this was an effective technique because, only a few minutes later, she did the same thing to me when trying to get me to let her down from her booster seat during dinner. She looked very stern. My first thought was, "Is that what I looked like?" My second thought was that I should immediately comply before she hurt me.

Thankfully, I snapped out of it and remembered that I was the parent. I think a new attention-getting technique is in order.

"It's Okay. Daddies Make Bad Choices Sometimes"

Our Saturday didn't turn out as planned. Part of the problem is that we weren't sure what our plan was. As a result, I was bit grumpy for part of the day. At dinner, I apologized to the kids for being a grump, and my son replied, "It's okay. Daddies make bad choices sometimes."

To make it up to them we laid out all the couch cushions, popped some popcorn, and watched "The Land Before Time."

Picking Up a Cheerio

After a typical day at work, I came home and sat down to family dinner. Our baby was beginning to fuss, so my wife handed me some Cheerios and suggested that the baby might be ready to pick them up with her fingers. For most of dinner she pushed them, pulled them, smacked them, and flung them, but did not appear to have the motor skills to pick them up between her fingers. Then, to our surprise, she did it. She could not get it to her mouth, but she finally picked it up. Such a little thing, but it excited us, because it was a big sign of her growth and development.

Picking up that Cheerio affected the rest of my night as well. I began to notice little things with each of my kids that told me they were growing. My son asked, "May I be excused?" at dinner. He also buttoned his own shirt buttons. I also caught him helping our little girl up and teaching her how to dust herself off when she fell outside. Our little girl told us she needed to go potty and sat on it by herself (though she remained in her diaper and fully clothed). She is also beginning to use small sentences like, "Pease see da moon?" And, in addition to picking up her Cheerio, our baby sat up on her own for a few minutes.

My wife's question to my son when tucking him in tonight sums up my feelings about all of this. She asked him, "Can you please, please stop growing?"

The Transition Home

Work is like a stray dog. It is a homeless thing that we might look at it lovingly and enjoy, dispassionately and endure, or spitefully and taunt. But when we're finally done with it, it tends to follow us home. At least that's how I felt on the bus this evening. No matter how much I tried to "shoo" it out of my mind, it kept coming back. It's especially difficult mid-project to snap out of it when I get home and give my wife and kids my full attention. When my mind is split between the two, I'm naturally distracted and impatient. But, I can't say I wasn't warned. Prior to law school, I worked at a law firm and was told that one of the biggest challenges I would face as a corporate husband and father is leaving work at work and being home when I'm home. The transition from work to home would not be easy, and there would be times when I wouldn't be able to sever the two, perhaps even choosing work over home. But, the ability to do it would come if I made a conscious daily effort. It starts as a choice, develops into a habit, and finally becomes an aspect of my character.

I took that advice as a challenge, and set a goal prior to law school to be home for family dinner every night (with exceptions on rare occasions, subject to my wife's veto power). Keeping that goal has made it easier for me to switch gears when I come home or to decline unnecessary distractions from family dinner and evenings together (a practice I'm confident helps professionals draw appropriate ethical lines as well--a post for another day). However, I've still got a long way to go before I would consider it a character trait.

Get the Bad Guys

My wife needed to go to the grocery store, and, consistent with our "divide and conquer" approach to parenting, decided to take our toddler while I put the other two to bed. Our son was jealous, resulting in some bribery involving ice cream and a promise to play "get the bad guys" together in order to convince him to stay (apparently, time alone with me isn't very appealing without these kinds of incentives).  But, as frequently happens, time got away from us. He got his ice cream (so did I), but by the time I finished bathing, feeding, and tucking in the baby, it was too late to start a game of "get the bad guys." Then, the memory of a lecture I recently gave my son about keeping his promise to eat dinner flashed through my mind. Though time at night to get personal things done is truly valuable, a promise kept is even more so. So, armed with a stuffed sword and a construction helmet, I teamed up with my son, who wielded his trusty green recorder and a foam shield, and together we fought the bad guys. It was actually a lot of fun. There's nothing like winning a battle to help you sleep well at night.

Give Them an Inch . . .

. . . And they'll probably surprise you. The terms "self restraint" and "three-year old" don't usually go together, but when our toddler started wrestling with our three-year old, my wife and I decided to sit back and see how our three-year old was going to handle it. He could easily throttle her if he got angry or just too excited. Instead, he let her climb all over him. When he did wrestle back, he was surprisingly mindful of her limits. It wasn't fair to him that she would dish it and not take it, but I think he'll find that the additional trust we have in him will more than pay him back for it.

Itsy Bitsy Spider and Family Traditions

My toddler and I have a special relationship. I am possessive of the responsibility of putting her to bed at night. I do not give it up lightly. Tonight was especially sweet. While holding her and rocking back and forth, we said her prayer and sang a few songs. However, when I moved to lay her down, her grip suddenly tightened. She doesn't usually do that, so I assumed she wanted more songs. We sang another song, and when I moved to lay her down, she tightened her grip again. Reluctantly, she let me lay her down, but she didn't want me to leave the room. Again, a little unusual. Then, she held up her two little hands and touched her little fingers together in an upward motion. It was the signal for "Itsy Bitsy Spider." As I sang the song and did the motions, I could see, even in the dark, her giddy little face loving every minute of it. Then, and only then, was she willing to go to sleep.

This is one of several special moments that have filled our extended weekend (I had today off for Columbus Day since I work for the Federal Government). Although it is true that the little things we do to establish a good routine and teach positive things in our home make an almost imperceptible difference from day to day, there are traditions we establish for special occasions, like holidays seem to have an almost immediate and tangible effect on our family. Today, for example, we followed a Fall tradition of going to a farm in the country and riding a tractor out to the pumpkin patch to pick one pumpkin for each member of the family. We were in no hurry to do anything but enjoy our time there, looking at the animals, having a picnic, picking apples and pumpkins, riding the tractor, and enjoying a beautiful hilly countryside full of colorful fall trees. We were in such a good mood when we came home that there was absolutely no fighting--no fighting! This tradition made for a memorable experience together, something that I hope will stay with our kids as they get older.

Plan to Have No Plan

There are moments of clarity, like today, where a corporate dad realizes that impatience is really a reaction to unmet expectations. If nothing else, that is a good reason to have a day, like today, to have no expectations, to plan to have no plans. The result is that my relationship with each of my kids, whose needs are so different, is renewed and strengthened with unimpeded individual, sincere, and spontaneous interaction. The result is a reminder that, apart from my wife, my kids are my closest friends. There are moments of clarity, like today, where a corporate dad realizes that one day to be entirely at their disposal is a small investment with tremendous returns.

Take Two

My poor wife observed an argument this morning between me and my three-year old son. I won, but felt pretty silly about it. It wasn't that I was wrong in principle, it was that I was embarrassed by my approach. After the argument, I asked my wife, "What would you think if someone secretly video recorded an argument like this with one of the kids then played it back to you?" I asked rhetorically because I have the misfortune of an automatic replay mechanism in my mind that was instantly triggered when I noticed my wife watching. I thought I looked pretty childish. The replay continued running through my mind in the early afternoon while I was getting frustrated with our baby for grabbing at the spoon I was using to feed her the drippy, messy baby food. By the time the kids were napping, I had two embarrassing episodes of me acting childish and impatient replaying in my mind. It was somewhat haunting.

Luckily, I had much better moments with each of the kids. Later in the afternoon, for example, I took my son to the dinosaur museum as a treat for filling his listening chart. It was fun to sit back and let him enjoy what he wanted to. He loved the T-Rex skull, the sharp shark teeth, and the flying fish. It was also funny to see how much he enjoyed playing on the train, the handrails at the station, and the bike racks. As I end the day, the two negative episodes have been replaced by much more positive ones.

 

"Why Are You Acting So Bossy Today?"

This evening was not a typical one. I came home from work knowing that tonight I would know if I passed the Bar exam. However, we were also hosting our neighbors for dinner. So, my wife and I scrambled to get everything ready. When they arrived, we scrambled to get the kids dinner so that the adults could talk. Dinner ended pretty late, so then we scrambled to clean up and get the kids ready for bed. Since our three-year old has become more independent and helpful, and since I was anxious to get through the night and check my score, I asked him to do a bunch of things to help during the preparing, entertaining, clean-up, and bed time. I say "asked," but I must have forgotten to use my magic words because he eventually asked me, "Daddy, why are you acting so bossy today?"

On the one hand, I wasn't sure how to react to hearing my son say that. On the other hand, he asked so sincerely that I knew he wasn't just mouthing off. It really concerned him. I actually felt a little better knowing that, if my anxious and bossy behavior was concerning him now, I must not be doing it all the time anymore. I told him he was right, that I was being bossy, and that I was sorry. I also told him "thank you" for being so helpful. I'm amazed at how much my kids can teach me if I listen.

As a side note to this story (though a keynote of my day), I was finally able to check my score around 10 pm. I passed the Bar exam!

I've Got My Toes To Suck On

The end of the day is always chaotic. The kids are usually climbing all over my wife, who is busily preparing dinner, while our baby sits in her bouncy seat fussing for food and a nap. It is a hard time of day. Coming home today, I happened to glance through our kitchen window to see my wife and kids dancing to music. I went in and was greeted with the usual "toddler charge" to the battle cry of "Daddy's home!" Through kisses, hugs, and show and tell, I made it into the kitchen to greet my beautiful wife. She told me they were dancing to entertain the baby, who was getting fussy.

Finally I turned to our baby girl, who was quietly sitting in her bouncy seat in the corner and smiling at me. Feeling badly, I picked her up and took her with me to put my stuff away and get ready for dinner. When I laid her on the bed, she immediately popped her big toe into her mouth and looked at me in her characteristically sweet and patient way that seemed to say, "I'm fine now, Daddy. I've got my toes to suck on."

Her patience and sweetness during chaotic moments is more than appreciated. I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts, knowing that if she follows in her sister's footsteps she'll soon have personality, opinions, and volume to spare. When that day comes, and the chaos in our family goes up yet another level, I will probably miss the days when they could just lay there and quietly suck on their toes.

Crashing Family Prayer

Before we put the kids to bed, we have family prayer on our bed. Our two-year old sometimes cooperates and kneels down with us and folds her arms, but just as often, she doesn't cooperate at all. Tonight was somewhere in-between. She kept purposefully sliding off of the bed and running around as we read books. When it was prayer time, I lifted her back onto the bed. Right away, she scooted back over to the edge to slide off. As her feet were dangling off the side, she heard us ask her to get ready for prayer and sweetly folded her arms (feet still dangling). The second the prayer ended, she suddenly slipped off the bed and crashed onto the floor. Our first reaction was to laugh (we need to work on that). When we regained our composure, we (including our oldest) peeked over the edge to find our little girl still sitting there on the ground looking a little shocked. The sight of our three heads peaking over the side of the bed must have struck her as funny because she burst into laughter too.

They say a family that prays together stays together. I interpret that maxim broadly so as to include just being in the same room together while the prayer is said, which is the best we can do at this point. Even if meaningful participation from the kids falls far short of the ideal, at least there are moments like this one that let us laugh about it together.

Mental Stimulation

I'm going to pick up from yesterday's post. They say that one of the biggest factors in the mental development of children is family dinner. After my wife taught the kids how to pick up graham crackers with their tongues for dessert, I'm convinced it's true. That's why I try never to miss it.

Preschool and Competitive Parenting

I'm hesitant to publish this post lest anyone think we are stuck up parents. But, our son came home from preschool frustrated that his teacher is not teaching him letters, numbers, etc. or using worksheets. These are things we frequently do at home, things that he loves. We probably left him with the impression that that is what he would be doing at school. We spent much of our night talking about what to do. Should we take him out? Should we try to put him in the older age group?

Have you ever heard of competitive parenting? It started for me when our eldest was just a baby and we began teaching him the alphabet during bath time. The first book I read to him was Paradise Lost. I wanted more than the best for him; I wanted him to be the best--at everything. The alarming nature of this competitive spirit did not fully dawn on me until my son had a break away in his first three-year old soccer game and missed the goal. I actually felt disappointed in him. I was shocked at myself. What's the big deal? I scared myself with the thought that I would be "that parent" who pushed their kids so hard at everything that they ended up disliking it. I quickly backed off and just let my son have fun. By the second season he lost interest in scoring and became passionate about being goalie. We let him experiment, and he was great at it. Several times he'd save a goal then run off the field yelling, "Daddy, I blocked the goal!" He'd even ask me to practice with him at home. I'm scared to think what would have happened if I would have continued in competitive parenting.

Ultimately, our conversation about preschool ended the same way. Although it is not Harvard (though paying tuition makes it file like it should be), there are some important things preschool can teach him as long as his parents don't get in the way. He needs to develop interpersonal skills, and, at the very least, he needs to learn to finish what he's started and to grow where he's planted. Even though we cringe at the thought of paying tuition for this, we decided to focus on helping him take advantage of the education this preschool has to offer and to supplement the rest at home. I think he will come home one of these days with the same excitement he had when he discovered for himself the joy of playing goalie.

The Brown Badge of Courage

Anyone with kids knows that Sunday is a day of rest in some respects but not others, especially if you're really trying to pay attention to whomever is teaching from the pulpit. Almost every effort at a rejuvenating Sabbath seems thwarted by children who act mortally wounded by our momentarily divided attention. Parents in this situation could persuasively argue that they feel figuratively pooped on.

The phrase took on a different meaning for me when I handed our baby girl to my wife and noticed poop on my suit pants. I've heard of it happening to fathers before, but in my almost four years as a father, it's never happened to me. I guess this is sort of a fatherly badge of courage--the brown badge of courage (sorry Stephen Crane).

Trip with My Toddler Day 4--Learning from Day 1

The road home was much longer and harder than the road here: 9 hours in a car back to the airport, 2 hours on the plane back to DC, and 1 more hour in the car from the airport home.

Thanks to my impatience on the first day of travel, I was more careful in my efforts on the way home to trick her into thinking that 12 hours buckled into something was fun. I even tricked myself, though I'm not anxious to do it again. If you assume a two-year old's attention span per activity is 5 minutes max, then to entertain her for over 12 hours requires only 144 activities. Here are some of the things she enjoyed the most:

-Reading all of her favorite books as many times as she wants.
-Having me sincerely listen and respond to everything she says--I mean everything.
-Picking all the games, including tickling Daddy and calling all the cows doggies just to tease me.
-Asking me "what's dat?" and having me explain every blade of grass from Kansas City to Chicago.
-Blowing my nose, her nose, and the dolly's nose with the tissues.
-Playing with my hat.
-Pulling my water bottle out of my mouth.
-Feeding me her snacks.

-Pushing all of the elevator buttons in the airport.

-Riding the automatic walkways.

-Eating dinner while not at the dinner table.

-Pushing the dolly in her stroller, though she was not entirely successful dodging other people.

-Trapeze swinging from my arms while waiting to board the plane.

-Playing with the trays, light switches, air-flow knobs, etc.
-Pushing my arm off of the arm rest.

Trip with My Toddler Day 3--Jumping and Dancing

Five more hours in the car from the wedding location to the reception location. At the wedding location, the hotel was on a small main street of a small town, which put us close to shops, a playground, a garden, and other fun things to do. At the reception location, the hotel was on the corner of a busy street with nothing nearby but other hotels.

So, what do you do with a restless toddler when there is nothing to do? We jumped on the hotel bed, of course. My daughter couldn't get enough of it. We jumped and bounced and wrestled for nearly an hour.

Eventually, we got ready for the reception. I think this was my favorite part of the weekend. Not only were my brother and his new bride beaming, but I finally got to dance all night with my daughter. She insisted on dancing on the dance floor for much of the night as well. She loved it when I would perform her dance moves with her. Of course, she began to tire and snuggled up to me on my shoulder with her thumb in her mouth for the remaining dances of the night. I loved every minute of it.

Trip with My Toddler Day 2--Time to Admire

The luxury of a trip alone with my little girl is that there was nothing to distract me from just watching and admiring her. She is truly beautiful.

I woke up to see two brown eyes looking over at me. My brother noticed that she woke up before me but wouldn't leave me. Instead she would poke her head up to see if was was awake yet, then lay her head back down for a few minutes, then repeat the process over again several times until I finally woke up. The second she saw my eyes open she took my hand, pulled me up, and said, "C'mon Daddy!"

We were ready before most of the group, so we left early to walk around the gardens of the wedding location. I loved pointing out the crickets and bees and hearing her respond, "Woah!" Then we sat in the garden, and I watched her look around at the flowers. I can tell she is a keen and thoughtful observer. I'm sure she notices what we do at home more than we think.

After a whirlwind of wedding events, we spent the evening at the park by our hotel. I can't remember the last time I was able to pay attention to just her at the park. I noticed how she finds joy in experience something new; she has a passion for life. She would circle through the park and try everything, the merry-go-round, the slides, the jungle gym, etc. She laughs and screams a little when she plays on the equipment, but most often she quietly smiles and just soaks in the experience. My favorite part was when she would just look at me and communicate with her eyes how much she loved experiencing these things together.

Interestingly, our time together was not spent talking. Still, we felt much closer to each other by the end of the day through the experiences we shared.

Trip with My Toddler Day 1--Everyone Knows Her Name

We took the divide-and-conquer approach while I went to my brother's wedding this weekend. I took my toddler daughter with me while my wife stayed home with the other two kids. I was excited about it because she typically gets the least amount of personal attention from us. My goal was to avoid letting the wedding plans get in the way of making this weekend about my relationship with her.

I was off to a slow start with my goal. Cosby jokes that whenever anyone brings a child on a plane, by the end of the trip everyone knows her name. This was true in our case, I think more because of my natural impatience than because of her natural spunkiness. I'm not sure how many times I repeated her name with a "no," "wait," "please stop," or an "I give up" kind of sigh. Looking back, she was really wonderful on the plane. All she wanted was to play with the window shade, push the light button, twist the air-flow knob, or open and close the food tray. That should have been a small price to pay for taking her on a long trip.

After getting off the plane, we rode in a car for another four hours to reach the country location of the wedding, finally reaching the hotel at 2 a.m. Because of all the excitement and travel, she was having a hard time falling asleep. But she didn't make a fuss. She was angelic. To tell her how much I appreciated her patience, I let her sleep with me in the bed. To be honest, she was really doing me a favor too. I don't really get to do that often.