Snowplay

Sunday I took Quinn out into the relatively balmy -6C temperatures to get some fresh air. He had his big boots on, his big snowsuit, and the big mitts that snap onto it. I call it his space suit since he has all the mobility of an astronaut in it. He's getting used to the boots quite well and can now walk around not too badly. The mitts are a serious impediment though - the suit and mitts are a little big as of yet, and he can't grip anything.

I wasn't sure what he wanted to do, or could do outside. We're still figuring out the outside-in-the-winter thing. Including Quinn. He wandered around for a bit and ordered daddy to do a few things, but he really couldn't do much himself. I decided to try to figure out how to make winter outdoors fun for him.

I put him in the sleigh shovel and pushed him around some. He didn't really seem to get a kick out of that. I packed down the snow on the mini-hill I previously shoveled in the driveway; he walked on it a bit but that wasn't really working either. I plunked him on top of the mini hill; he liked that a little. I tried to slide him down the mini hill and that got a little giggle, but it was tough sledding and I couldn't scrounge a suitable sliding implement on short notice.

Next time Bec poked her head out the door, I asked her to get his knit mittens, which are quite a bit smaller. They wouldn't be good for serious cold or long jaunts being carried in the backpack, but it was relatively warm and he was moving about so we thought we'd try it for awhile and see how his hands fared heatwise. I managed to get his thumbs actually in the thumbholes which took a little doing. It's amazing what a difference that makes. He could grip most anything then.

For awhile we played fyonto yodo (front loader) in the snow, dumping into his dump truck. He liked that. I started shovelling a path in the backyard to the composter, more for something to do than anything else. Quinn started helping with his little yellow shovel. Then he gave me his little yellow shovel and he started pushing the great big sleigh shovel by himself and trying to tip it over like I do. He had the right idea! By then I'd finished the path to the composter and then he had a great time walking up and down the path, shovelling along the sides and walking in and out of some spurs I'd dug.

It was a slow start, but by the time it was time to come in he didn't want to, which I think is a sure sign he's learned to have some winter fun.

A storybook ending

We did the usual bedtime routine tonight. In the bath, Quinn was a quite owly that he couldn't have Elfo Wattatan in the bathtub, since Elfo was downstairs awaiting a bath after the yogurt treatment Quinn gave him at breakfast. I don't know whether he was concerned that Elfo was inside the dishwasher, or whether he just didn't like that Daddy wasn't responding to orders very well.

Sometimes now Quinn opts for stories and cow's milk over breastfeeding at bedtime, so Bec usually has the bottle on hand in case he chooses that option. Tonight Bec realized she forgot it so I went to retrieve it. By the time I got back he was yelling the clearest sentence I've ever heard him utter - "I WANT READ FASSY NASSY BOOK" (Fancy Nancy - a book series involving a high maintenance little girl - Bec teases me about trying to get him to avoid them but I have to concede they're actually pretty good books...).

Once he was ready, he unexpectedly came out with "Daddy read book". This is unusual since Bec always puts him to bed when she's home. However, I've been putting him to bed more often recently as Bec's been out more, and it's become quite natural and fun. We asked him three times, and he was sure - he wanted daddy to read him a story and put him to bed. So Fancy Nancy notwithstanding, read I did! And a little proudly too I might add! He and I had a good weekend together and Bec mentioned this morning that he often seemed a little sad when I left for work on Monday mornings, so this was a perfect way to end the day. I'm really looking forward to 11 days off at Christmas and spending more time with him.

He Gets The Family Picture

We got a print made of a picture of my mom and dad, my brother and me from my recent birthday celebrations. When Bec brought it home today, Quinn caught sight of it. He immediately lit right up with a Great Big Smile and said "Nana Dampy Unca John!". Bec phoned me at work to tell me about it, and I lit right up too. I phoned my parents tonight to tell them and they lit right up as well. Grampy was particularly excited to no longer be known as "Dumpy", although that moniker also had some quirky endearingness to it.

It's hard for family to be separated by so much distance. I really need to work harder at webcam calls to keep the memories fresh. But Quinn impresses me that he remembers, and obviously remembers fondly, far flung family that miss him so much. We all brightened one another's day today.

O Christmas Tree

We decorated our Christmas tree tonight. Quinn was quite into it. While we were putting up lights, he had a separate string of lights that he carried around and eventually put on a branch in a pile. I took it off, but then thought "why'd I do that?". However I couldn't get it back on the branch he had put it because it was too heavy, so then it had to come off. He carried around some ornaments. We tried to pick sturdy ones but one of them bit the dust, prompting a dustbuster cleanup. We've got so many we could actually stand some attrition... Anyway, after that it was about the dustbuster, but he still put some ornaments up while toting the vacuum in his wake.

I forced our cat Tulsa out of her self-imposed basement exile to be part of the family for once. She immediately hid under the tree. Quinn was very excited to see her, but he contained himself very well. He crawled under the tree and offered her his car-ornament, a candy cane and a wooden car - all earnest efforts from our young son. He even ventured some gentle pats, saying so in the process. She didn't run away at least. Is that progress? Hard to tell. We really wish he could have a family pet. Oh well, for a moment today she was part of the family.

I really love a real tree. We got a nice full dense one. We have lots of nice ornaments, and many meaningful ones. It smells nice. It's just...Genuine. This day and age of environmental awareness makes me appreciate the luxury of it. It is a former living thing that adds meaning to our lives; its tenure as a tree was abbreviated; its meaningful stint is rather brief in the big picture; upon which it will be returned to the earth for renewal. Lots of symbolism in that, especially this time of year.

I'll love it every day. Thanks, O Christmas tree.

Sleep Nirvana

Three consecutive days of 7am-730am wakeup times! Wow! Wow in two ways - 1) that's luxury now and 2) if you'd told me 2 years ago I'd be excited about getting up at 7am I would have thought you were crazy. But that was then and this is now. It was after a week that included some 5am's, but all in all wakup times seem to be stabilizing nicely. It still gets out of whack sometimes - timechange + sickness took about a month to recover from, but I think recovery is easier now (easy for me to say since Bec does most of that work...but I think it's true). He still usually naps for a couple hours each day too.

It's been a tough road and Bec has been a superstar. I think the biggest lessons learned are: that everything is connected (night sleep length and time, nap(s) length and time, feedings, fresh air, exercise, stimulation); that each kid is different and no book or expert should tell you otherwise (no book will say 9.5 hours of sleep at night is enough...but attempting anything else with Quinn just pushed the problem around); and that consistency and ritual is king (the nightly routine puts him on rails toward bed, and it has even proven to be portable when we travel). And one thing I've come to accept is that things can knock it off the rails, especially sickness, but that it *will* recover again.

I can put him to bed now quite comfortably for all involved, and down for naps, though Bec still does the majority of it. It's pretty special, and he seems more attached to me in days thereafter. All this semblance of normal life makes us hesitate when considering a second one, but who knows...maybe one day.

Word updates

He's got some great new words - in addition to the old faithful "fyonto yodo" (front loader), he now has "baygo teener" (vacuum cleaner), "baydo" (blanket), "wayuphigh" to stand on our shoulders, "wantdown" to get down from his high chair, and my personal favourite "elfo wattatan". Any guesses? No? How about "elephant watering can". Give yourself five bucks from me if you matched Bec's prowess at figuring that one out.

He also has entered a phase that we'd refer to in software as "babbling interrupt" - he says a word or a phrase and he'll repeat in 981 times until you echo it back to him. Sometimes he's asking for something, but sometimes he's not even really talking to you. Only saying the phrase back to him stops the incessant self-monologue. Mostly it's cute but it does wear at times.

He understands so much. He follows instructions pretty well, even sets of 2 or 3 instructions sometimes. He seems to understand conditions and sequences. In spite of the babbling, sometimes it's hard to get him to repeat something you didn't understand, or only understand part. Repeating what he says "acknowledges the interrupt" in software parlance, and so he stops saying it. But he doesn't understand when you ask him to repeat it. We're going to need to work at developing that concept I think because it leads to frustration on both sides at times.

All in all the whole communication thing is coming along nicely.

Trains

Quinn's in a big trains phase. We read Thomas the Tank Engine books that Bec got from the library and they're a big hit. They're well done, with 4 self-referential stories in a book, so there's some continuity and he gets to know the characters. The characters make mistakes and learn from them. The books are also a smaller physical size so Quinn can hold them easily. He often grabs the books on his own, climbs up on the couch and looks at the pictures and tells himself stories, babbling away to himself.

Bec requested the compendium from the library and you should have seen the look on his face when Bec produced it at home. His face lit up in a huge smile (he's becoming *much* more expressive, smiling and laughing and...oh yeah some of the bad stuff as well...) and he held his arms up. "Weed! Weed!" he said. It has even supplanted Richard Scarry, at least for the moment, which is saying something (it probably helps that we hid those, in self defense).

We've got some of the small Thomas trains too (Percy, Thomas and Bertie if you're keeping score) and he loves those too. He's stopped calling them tugga-tugga's, and Bec laments that his little-boyness is starting to wane, but certainly trains are a big hit right now.

Great words

We try not to reinforce improper pronunciations with Quinn's expanding vocabulary, but some of them are pretty priceless. Now and then when he falls or drops something, he'll come out with "Oops day see" (oopsy-daisy). His word for "front loader" is "fyonto yodo" which took some fine detective work by Bec to figure out. "Tractor" comes out as "cock-so" clear as a bell, which is a little hard to fathom, and further complicated by the fact that he uses the same word for "cracker". A firetruck is a "wee-ahh", after the siren sound it makes. A train is a "tugga-tugga" (chugga chugga). "Buhh dozz" (bulldozer) was one of his first real words. "Fahdown" (fall down) is a heavily used expression by our little gravity-checker.

Even better - he's started into the hushed self-monologues as he plays. If you listen closely you hear him say things like "fyonto yodo fahdown go boom oop day see" and then the front loader crashes onto the floor. All the words he's learned to understand these last few months are now just pouring out of him. A chatterbox, he now is.

Big Hugs

Quinn's been sick recently. Just regular sick, which is a relief in these H1N1 times (a couple nervous days were had...). He's had a very runny nose, and we constantly had to wipe his nose to keep puddles from forming on the floor. His nose and upper lip got quite sore and Bec would put cream on it to try to make it better. Well Quinn didn't think much of that idea. "Owwie Nose!" he'd shriek and flail left and right. But mommy always achieved her mission, as mommies always do.

But then Quinn came up with a very clever defence. "Big Hug" he'd wail and throw his arms around his mommy's neck. Well of course this would melt mommies heart and they'd hug for a moment. "Big hug" he'd plead and hang on for dear life. After awhile it became clear that this was as much evasive as emoting. I said "I think somebody's a sneaky hugger" and honest to god he got a twinkle in his eye!

In spite of his boxer's clinch, mommy still always achieved her mission, as mommies always do, but the defensive tactics are already evolving lickity-split. We're going to have to work at it to stay ahead of this kid I think.

Quinn and his gang

For months we tried to get Quinn attached to a stuffed animal that might get him through the night without the aid of mommy or daddy. For months we tried in vain. The teddy bear his great uncle Dave bought him through an exception in the "no stuffed animals - we've got too many already" rule; the fox that gramma bought him through another exception in the "no stuffed animals - we've got too many already" rule;any one of the 45 stuffed animals that led to the "no stuffed animals - we've got too many already" rule. To no avail.

Suddenly Quinn developed an attachment to four of them at once. Foxy, Owl, Hippo and Puppydog are all required attendees at bedtime now. He'll call them by name and stack them around or underneath himself causing seemingly uncomfortable contortions. Sometimes he'll lose track of one and while lying on his back, he'll hold up a hand and say "Ow ull" until you retrieve the fugitive furriness.

Whatever gets him through the night. Sleep's going much better these days.

Hocquet

Bec bought a second small replica hockey stick today. However we can't find the old one we had. So grampa and Quinn played hockey with a whack-a-toy mallet, the hockey stick and a blue rubber ball. Seemingly a combination of hockey and croquet, we dubbed it "hocquet" (or croqhey).

I got to play some hocquet with Quinn when I got home. Now, it's always fun to do things with Quinn, but this didn't require any pretending - it was truly fun!

Dokker Semi

Quinn's got another ear infection, which combined with a full body rash last week warranted a couple visits to our family doctor, Dr. Assemi. The maladies have turned out to be nothing serious, but Quinn won over the entire audience by saying "Dokker Semi" several times.

He also has a doctor kit at home with several play doctor instruments in it. He now gets it out and we play "Dokker Semi".

WXYZ

One morning recently, right out of the blue, Quinn looked at a group of things in a book and said "One....", (I noted it), "Two....", (I thought 'very good, counting to two is impressive'), "Three....", ('wow, he's really going!), "Four!" (Holy cow how far is he going to go??). Then he stopped, but I was completely flabbergasted. He had counted one a lot, two on rare occasion when aided, and here he went right to four all by himself! With some aid he got right up to eight! I'm not sure it would have all been identifiable out of context but I was impressed nonetheless.

Today Bec sang the alphabet song and stopped at 'P'. He sang 'koo arr esss, tee ooo vee, dub eck wyyye zee, now no ayy cee sing see". He did it again for me at suppertime. We made a big thing out of it, as you can imagine, and he looked so proud.

It's truly amazing how fast kids learn things at this age. I have no idea how Quinn's progress compares to norms, and I'm trying very hard but not quite successfully to dwell on it at all, but I personally am truly impressed at how well he's doing. I am most happy about how he gets a kick out of it. I so hope we can keep that alive.

Solo Daddy

Bec went to Montreal with her mom and sister this weekend. It used to be a tradition BC, but she missed last year because Quinn was too young for her to be away. Flash forward one year, and well, we weren't entirely sure Quinn wasn't still to young for her to be away. We'd talked grand designs of prepping Quinn and Daddy for a solo flight, but too much work and a general lack of round tuits and here we were holding our collective breaths as Bec left for the train.

We'd discussed that probably having Quinn watch her board the train without him would be too much. However I fear we went a little far in the other direction. Bec's parents picked her up at home, and she said goodbye to Quinn, but then she just left, with us being hesitant to make a big deal out of her departure for fear of meltdown. I briefly considered waving with him from the window, but we were reading at the time and he gets in a reading zone, so we just kept reading. In the short term this seemed quite effective. He asked for mommy a couple times over the next few hours and I explained that she was away until tomorrow. He considered that for a moment and carried on.

Later, just before nap he was going up the stairs and he stopped. He turned around and looked at the door and waved and said "bye bye". It was said in a tone loaded with meaning, and it is one I will remember forever in the "emotion sears memories" sort of way. It was soft; it was vulnerable but confident; it wasn't sad; it was a bit resigned, but also content; and matter-of-fact - all at the same time. Then he turned and continued up the stairs. He went down great and had a great nap.

I didn't immediately identify it with mommy leaving, and in fact it's still not totally sure in my head. Just prior to that he'd been pointing to the light and smoke alarm on the front hall ceiling and said something that seemed to indicate he thought someone was out there. I briefly wondered whether it was one of those "I see dead people" moments from the movies with or without the macabre part, which freaked me out in a number of ways but I was able to quickly banish those thoughts. So when he waved bye bye I wasn't sure whether it was The Imaginary People or not. Only later did I piece together that he was probably waving to mommy, and perhaps even imagining mommy there. Whatever the case, I now wish we'd let him say goodbye more. Who knows, maybe he *would* have melted down; maybe there isn't a black and white answer.

In any event, he and I have done just fine together, and I am so glad he feels that comfortable with me. I think I'm much more boring than mommy, but I think I have managed the care and feeding of our son effectively over the weekend. I even recovered a couple minor meltdowns. My biggest fear was that he would lose it and want his mommy and be completely unrecoverable, but that didn't come to pass. In the end, after much anticipatory gnashing of teeth, I think it has been good for us all, and we'll all be excited to see one another in a couple hours' time.

ERP II

Last night Quinn picked out the "Dr Suess's ABC" book and brought it over to the couch for us to read. As he walked he said "dok soos E-R-P".

Today Bec spelled out "p-i-e" in conversation with me at suppertime, to avoid Quinn fixating on the idea in lieu of dinner. Quinn looked at her and said "E-R-P".

Whatever this ERP thing is, he certainly has caught on to the letters and spelling idea.

The Great Communicator

Quinn is learning to communicate quite clearly. Developmental books we read talk about toddlers getting frustrated when their ability to communicate can't keep up with their understanding and desire to do so. With a combination of Quinn's inventive ways and some solid parsing by Bec, this doesn't seem to be the case for Quinn.

Example: Monday night we were all returning from a dinner out and Quinn was walking (actually running top speed for a lot of it). To keep him moving along, we focused on the fire hydrants along the way, and specifically the ones up ahead. He steamed around the corner of one building, and then looked around quizzically, and said "ennn see" and shook his head. "Ennn" has long been his word for "again" or "another"; 'see' was quite clearly spoken and is a word he recently learned so it seemed a reasonably surefire assumption; the head shaking was plain as day. After Bec and I looked blankly at one another for a second, feverishly trying to crack this word puzzle, Bec blurted out "'again', 'see', 'no'...we were looking for fire hydrants and he can't find the next one". We pointed out the hydrant, which was behind a telephone pole, and he checked it out briefly before we sprinted to the next one.

You still need a large helping of Quinn-to-English dictionary, but he can definitely get his point across. This is a real-life word game that's so much fun to play.

ERP

Quinn has really had an explosion of language learning lately. A new toy he has is a magnetic easel with letters and numbers. In conjunction with the easel, we dug out the Dr Suess's ABC book, which he now pays attention to with renewed zeal with the extra added context. We've started to teach him some letters. He can repeat them after us, but the only one he consistently gets right unaided is 'x' (which he says as "eck"). Still though, I'm impressed at how well he's doing.

For some reason, when he sees letters on something, he points at them, and says clear as day "E-R-P". We're not quite sure why he has glommed onto that particular sequence, but it certainly appears he's referring to letters when he does. Maybe he got into a Swedish keyboard or something. We'll have to write our own alphabet song I guess.

Flying Tackles And Other Nonstandard Affection Expressions

With strong doses of his dad's counterculturalism and his mom's whimsicalness, it should be no surprise that Quinn comes up with his own ways of doing things. And we don't discourage it much either, letting him mostly express himself in whatever fashion he desires so long as it's not offending anybody. Sometimes though, the things we bear and grin don't fall into the grinning and bearing category for all.

One way Quinn likes to express affection is The Flying Tackle. It even has verbal accompaniment now, with a spirited "Tack!" uttered as he flops onto you. Unfortunately some of his playmates don't quite understand this behaviour, and, lacking the requisite size that we have to muster as defence, especially don't appreciate the involuntary physical relocation.

Another affection manifestion is bossiness. "Up up up", he says, tugging a sleeve, or pushing/pulling, or thrusting a toy into someone's hand to play with. Bec and I giggle, accept our Assigned Toy and dutifully play. It happens less so with playmates.

Quinn's also a big hugger. Not with just anyone, but with some playmates that he sees regularly and has come to recognize and know. Perhaps a little oddly, it never seems to go well. Kids are either busy doing something or they don't want some drooly kid draping themselves into their personal space. Of course he's not so much into hugging those that thirst for it, like parents, grandparents, etc.

Showing all his toys to the object of his affection is one of his more effective tactics with playmates. However, it was less effective with Caitlin's dog (although he stands in for it bravely) and our cat (she just flees in terror at any sighting of him...).

Smiles and laughing at everything they do is also a good one.

It seems a shame to train some of them out of him, but I suppose imbuing him with the whens and wheres of things is a part of growing up. It just goes to show you, though, that unappreciated behaviours in those around you might have a different meaning than you think. The trick is to do the imbuing without becoming an 'unbuing' as the ability to feel and show affection is the most important thing of all.

Hootenany II

Quinn's Aunt Caitlin came over for a visit last weekend. At one point Quinn decided everyone should stand up and play, as is his wont, tugging on everyone's sleeves and saying "Up, up up". I grabbed my guitar and Quinn went to his musical instrument drawer and picked out some tambourines and shakers. We all marched in a circle around the ottoman, singing kid's songs. He was having a grand old time! As were we!

Aunt Caitlin decided to have a seat to take a rest. Well that simply wouldn't do. Quinn immediately ordered her "up up up". Little did she know this was Music Time Boot Camp! Up she got, and he went and got his piano and round and round we went some more. Quinn got his drum. It went on for some time before Quinn finally got a little tired of it. He wanted us all to keep going around in circles singing while he read some books but we weren't so much into that. Finally Aunt Caitlin, and the rest of us, got some respite! Hootenanying is hard work, especially under the strident guidance of our bossy little band leader.

Zap!

Quinn really laughs at some things now. He was getting a big kick out of Bec saying "Zap" tonight on the change table while the bath was filling. Flying bath toys, the Tickle Bird game, roughhousing; words like "zap" and "plop" and "kerplunk"; anticipation of snooshing, snorgling and zurberting; sometimes he just giggles at random things. His laugh is evolving too, with the early smiles and giggles morphing into full-on belly laughs and hearty chortles.

He has really established a solid frame of reference regarding the world around him, such that he recognizes when some things are unexpected and therefore (possibly) funny. He also recognizes the facial expressions and verbal tones that indicate we're "funning" with him. Best of all, sometimes he initiates it himself, with a "whap" on his own head or his mom's, or a "flop" on his dad on the floor.

A good sense of humour's an essential ingredient for a happy life. It looks like Quinn will be well endowed in that regard. Long live laughter!

Hockey!

I cut down one of my old hockey sticks to Quinn's size. We played around in the back yard pushing a soccer ball with the hockey sticks (I couldn't find the hockey ball or a tennis ball - hafta go digging for those). Quinn was a little interested but not so much into it - he's more interested in Calvin-ball type games (from the Calvin and Hobbes cartoon, games with wacky rules made up on the fly), but I suppose that's understandable at this early stage.

The next day we were outside again and the hockey sticks were still there, propped up against the deck. Quinn said "Hockey!" and I couldn't help but smile. We got a couple passes in before it went Calvin-ball again. I had so much fun playing the game growing up. I hope he enjoys it too. I also hope I don't force it too much. Really, as long as he doesn't become a Leafs fan I can probably tolerate any other hockey-related outcomes.

Bee-bee

I was laying on the floor with Quinn the other day and he pointed at my belly and said "bee-bee". I was a little concerned that he had mentally mapped by burgeoning belly to Bec's maternity photos that we talk to him about, and immediately swore off chocolate. After awhile Bec guessed he was saying "belly button" which is another popular topic we talk about even more. Whew. Chocolate habit reinstated (that wasn't going to last long anyway...).

Playing Flashlight, and other things

Quinn loves to play with the small collection of flashlights that I appear to have accumulated by the side of the bed. We turn off the light, lay on the bed and shine the flashlights all around. We trade. We turn them on and off. Bec comes in and we all have one. We shine them on our toes. We shine them in our mouths. We shine them on our hands. It's become a daily ritual of sorts recently.

Quinn's very interactive at playing many things now. We play trains, cars, walking sticks, kitchen, blocks, rings, music, ball, flying-tackles and flop. Flop was a little nerve-wracking there for awhile - he'd just suddenly fall backwards, assuming we'd catch him, and you really had to be ready. Eventually we began to identify the stationary wobbling that preceded it and began to coach it out of him. No harm done.

He's a lot of fun to play with now. What a great age.

Shoes

And so it begins...sandal season was coming to an end and Bec found his shoes for somewhere or other we were going. Of course they didn't fit. And of course these days it's not as simple as just buying another pair of shoes - it's indoor shoes and outdoor shoes and rubber boots and sandals and crocs and winter boots and...

I remember when I was a one-pair-of-shoes guy. I was a big dork but at least I was a low-maintenance big dork. I guess those days are gone now, and I guess Quinn will never know them. Oh well, at least Bec's a pretty frugal shopper and we have friends who also have several hundred pairs of kids' shoes that have been worn exactly three times, who we can beg and borrow from. Maybe I should buy stock in a shoe company...

Daddy! Mommy!

Quinn now says "daddy" and "mommy" in context and usually with great aplomb. And often to great effect too. The other morning I stumbled out of bed in the morning (of course long after Bec & Quinn had gotten up) and as I passed by his open door he says "Daddy!" and holds up a book. How could I refuse that? We sat and read books for half an hour. When I get home from work now I usually get an emphatic "daddy" too, which brightens my day. If Dale Carnegie thinks calling people by their name is a powerful tool in connecting with people, then I think a son calling his daddy or mommy is that times 10.

It also serves him well as a get-out-of-jail-free card when he's pushed his mother to the edge. Bec calls it the "I smile for you" approach that she apparently employed to great effect when she was a kid. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree I guess :) So far I'm liking these apples though, I hafta say.

Preconceived notions

We try to avoid preconceived notions with Quinn. Trouble is, the beach in Nova Scotia holds so many memories for me that it was difficult not to push things at him. In the end I think it worked out just right.

The first couple days we were there, we showed him everything. The dry sand at the top of the beach; the wet sand on the sandbars; and the clay. The tidal pools; the streams draining tidal pools; and swimming at high tide. The hermit crabs and ticklefish and starfish and jellyfish. Throwing rocks from water's edge. Boat rides. Grandparents and cousins and friendly strangers. The whole 9 yards, fully all 27 feet. As you can imagine he was a little overwhelmed - the biggest sandbox in the world, the biggest swimming pool in the world, and full-court-press family attention. This was me struggling with the preconceived notions.

By Day 3 he was crabby. We decided to take a day off from playing on the beach and stayed in the yard instead (something he's also not used to having given our postage-stamp-sized lawn...but at least it's more familiar). The next day we returned to the beach and let him find his comfort zone. He gravitated to throwing stones into the water from water's edge. Later he began exploring around the edge of sandbars, throwing Bec's sandals into the water and watching them float away (sometimes even retrieving them). Then he started venturing deeper into the water and climbing up on rocks. You could watch his world begin to expand. By the time we left he was eager in the water, jumping off a raft into Bec's arms, trying out a floaty-thing. He's amazingly adaptable, as I suppose all kids are at that age. I was impressed at how quickly, really, he went from overwhelmed to completely at home in his new surroundings.

Grampa's got tractors, and Uncle John's got a boat and is a fireman; Grampy's got a lawnmower and a fireplace. I was beginning to wonder what Daddy brought to the table. Maybe my preconceived notions are the best I've got. Maybe that's why so many parents seem to push their kids into things that the kids aren't so much into. But for desperately wanting him to like the beach and everything I loved about it growing up, I realized I had to let him discover it for himself. Thankfully, he seemed to arrive at the same conclusions on his own. Maybe a preconceived notion's not so bad after all, so long as it's not forced too much.

Gifts from Daddy

I had an appointment near a toy store this week, so I bought a couple gifts for Quinn. They are quite possibly the first gifts I have ever bought for Quinn. That might sound a little strange, but with the deluge of gifts from all fronts there just never seemed to be an opportunity. There was a brief span of a couple days where nobody was buying him anything and I spied my opportunity.

The first gift was a slinky. A good old fashioned slinky. Quinn loved it. He was so excited he squealed for a solid 15 minutes. We got it to 'walk' down a couple artificial steps we set up on the counter and he loved it so much we had to do it again and again. 175 times. It mattered not if you didn't get the stepping to work right - the topple-overs elicited even bigger squeals.

I was going to hold off a day on giving the other gift, but Quinn had already caught sight of it so the jig was up. It was a set of kitchen toys (plates, bowls, cutlery, etc) to go with the big play kitchen Bec found at the second-hand store the other day (and carried home several blocks precariously perched on the stroller, much to the amusement of several witnessing mommy-friends along the way). Well Quinn just loved those too. We had pretend tea and pretend breakfast and pretend dinner. He poured and sipped and cooked and ate. His understanding and imagination amaze me.

I woke up this morning and heard the clink of the slinky. I came downstairs and there were kitchen toys strewn everywhere. Looks like I did pretty well with my opportunity. Next one should come around when he's, oh, twelve or so. I'll have to start working on ideas soon.

Moah

Or 'more' that is. It's one of Quinn's heavily-used words. More food, more of the thing you just did, more of the thing he just did himself, or sometimes just a random uninterpretable 'moah'. One time he even said it in his sleep while at the cottage in Nova Scotia, which struck us as a great "zest-for-life" moment.

It's a solid life philosophy I suppose, or at least the start of one. Find out what you like and do more of it. The next steps after 'more' are to figure out what is "too much" and how to stop at "enough". One can get carried away with the figuring and stopping parts though - I could use more 'more' in my life, in areas at times. But one can also easily fall into 'too much'. I guess the skills of finding that balance and exercising restraint are among the most difficult parts of parenting. Then it becomes a lifelong thing for each of us, with the transition from parents managing it to managing it for one's self often being a primary point of conflict.

Hopefully we can properly imbue Quinn with these skills as he grows up without being overly restrained or overly permissive. Until then we'll try to get him as much 'moah' as we all can handle.

The Orange Juice Dance

While we were in Nova Scotia, one morning Quinn's grampy was shaking the orange juice container to mix it up. Grampy made it into a little dance with a little ditty to accompany it. Well Quinn got a kick out of that, sitting in his high chair. After some demonstrating and coaxing, Quinn started to move his hands back and forth, up and down, along with grampy. Everyone got a big kick out of that and Quinn basked in the attention. After a while he was getting right into it, with an intent look on his face, leaning forward and sticking his tongue out (a sure sign of concentration). Soon the whole table was doing The Orange Juice Dance, and a new shtik was born. This recurred several days leading up to our departure.

Once we got back to Ottawa we were all eating supper and Bec and I were reminiscing about the trip and the Orange Juice Dance. It took a little thought to remember the ditty but we eventually came up with it. Upon hearing it, Quinn immediately started moving his arms in Orange Juice Dance fashion. We were a little surprised at how well he remembered, over and above how well he understood what we were saying.

Even better - today at breakfast I got out the orange juice to pour some, and Bec and I tried to remember the ditty again. Quinn started humming it! We were completely blown away! I smiled about it all morning at work, and even phoned nana to tell her about it (grampy was out). Ordinarily having such a ditty stuck in my head all day would drive me nuts, but this particular day it was a great thing as I beamed with pride about my son and smiled at the memory of Orange Juice Dancing around the dining room table in NS. Doo doo doo...doo da doo doo doo...doo dah doo...

Back to the grindstone

We spent two glorious weeks in Nova Scotia (more posts to follow - I kept notes this time so as not to lose the experience like we did at Christmas...presuming I can find the notes that is...). Today I returned to work. I awoke early and came downstairs to spend some time with Bec and Quinn before work. When it came time to go to work I told Quinn "Daddy's gotta go to work" and he said "nooooo" and ran over and hugged me, and gave me his camera to play with. As if I needed further disincentive to return to work after a particularly fun vacation... :)

It may have been more because the family full-court-press had dwindled to just mommy and daddy, and now it was dwindling further, but still it felt good and bad at the same time that I would be missed. While Quinn speaks only a few words (but growing fast), he clearly understands a remarkable amount. This was one of the first times he seemed to show understanding of my temporary daily absence. It tugged at the heartstrings, for sure.

Everybody into the pool

Wednesday this week was forecast to be a nice day, and it was. I came home from work early to meet Bec & Quinn at the park. I arrived, battling lateness as always it seems, especially when it comes to leaving work, and they were in the wading pool, Quinn steaming straight through the deepest part as is his wont, Bec madly keeping up behind him. After awhile Quinn came over to see me and got out of the pool.

He stamped around in some puddles for a bit, but then decided he wanted back into the pool. But he wouldn't let Bec take him in. He tugged on my hand. I pleaded unreadiness but to no avail. Nothing would do but daddy had to go in the pool with him. Finally I realized that readiness really didn't matter - I shed my shoes and socks and sacrificed my pants to the water, steaming around behind Quinn in water up to his neck. He had a great 'ol time and so did I, readiness be darned!

Now, quick, before it's gone

Quinn turns a year and a half a week from now. On the one hand it doesn't seem like a very big number, but on the other hand, how far we've come. I was looking for something the other day and came across some breast pads that Bec used to use when Quinn was very small. Not any more. You think these things will go on forever but they don't. I'm so glad we take so many pictures (slowing down from our crazy pace of the first year though) and I'm go glad I keep this blog; but even still it flies by. While pictures and words are the best we've got, they seem such an inadequate representation.

I have heard this from others and read this. I try very hard to immerse myself in the Now. Yet here he is 8.3% grown up (presuming 18 is "grown up" at least by some measures...) and I feel like I'm missing it somehow. Then there's that lady in Montreal who was killed by a 300lb slab of falling concrete while on a patio, celebrating her birthday no less; and a favourite former manager of mine waging a battle with cancer, with two young kids at home. You never know when your time is up.

Come on Quinn, wake up from your nap - there's some Now to be had.

Up, Down, Hop, Help, Hat, Dada...but mostly No

Quinn's words. He uses 'up' pretty accurately now. 'Down' comes out like "dowwwww". He uses 'hop' a lot while bouncing stuffed or plastic animals. We're gradually having success at training him to use 'help' ("hep") to replace general shrieking when he can't do something himself. 'Hat' was one of the first random repetitions he uttered but he's not so much into that word any more. 'Dada' seems to come out when daddy's going to work, which is pretty special.

But as to be expected for an almost-one-and-a-half-year-old, 'no' is the most popular word in his vocabulary. He applies it to every situation, and it might possibly be accurate sometimes, but it largely seems to be a random utterance, signifying his independent intentions of whatever we might have planned for him.

I think he understands a lot of words. Many he obviously grasps; many others I think he has a general idea about. We still read books that are quite advanced for him. Many of them I think he understands, to a certain degree anyway. He's still quite excited about reading and gets a great big grin on when he picks out a book and brings it over to the couch to read. It's one of the favourite things we all share together. May that continue for years to come.

The State of Eating

Quinn's a pretty good eater. There are only certain things he'll eat, but he eats lots of those, most days. He's not so much a meat eater, although we've tried on a number of occasions. He gobbles up all fruits, will eat a few vegetables sometimes (sometimes we have to resort to trickery or hide them in things). Cereal, bagels, toast, cheese, crackers, pizza, pasta...he's pretty open to trying new things, but first tries are usually tentative and it's the second meal attempt with the new food that's the telling one.

He's got almost all his molars now (last one's still finishing coming in I think), his front four and I think one or two other teeth. He is capable of biting food, although he only does so sometimes - I saw hime bite off some banana once and therefore assumed he could and would, but after some spectacularly huge mouthfuls I've learned to make smaller bites for him.

He will occasionally remove food from his mouth if something more appealing is put on his plate, which is a bit of thinking-outside-the-box I hadn't really considered. He also loves to throw food on the floor, much to his parents' dismay. It usually happens late in the meal when he's mostly done, or he's done with the particular sorts of food currently arrayed on his tray. He usually has this "watcha gonna do about it??" look on his face that may be a sign of things to come.

He's become reasonably adept at feeding himself with a spoon or a fork. He's quite proud of himself when he does this, so much so that sometimes he will refuse the same food if others attempt to feed it to him. He largely feeds himself from food we put on his tray. It appears to be a fine line between putting enough quantity and variety on his tray, and overwhelming him with too much so that he turfs it all on the floor. He can manage a sippy-cup of juice or milk pretty much on his own, but we take it away from him when he starts making puddles on his tray. He's interested in drinking from adult glasses, but I guess it's harder than it looks - he still usually spills and coughs.

All in all I'd say it's pretty much normal toddler eating. He eats pretty well and he's got the buddha-belly to show for it too :) Hopefully that translates to upward growth before long. He is solidly built, growing, and getting heavier, so I guess he's putting it to good use.

Quinn, Eager Gymnast

Quinn had his first gymnastics class today. I talked to Bec briefly on the phone and apparently he just looooooovved it...had a great big grin on his face the whole time. There were somersaults and hanging from rings (with instructor's help) and trampolines and balance beams and all sorts of things to jump on and to. Apparently most of the other 6 kids didn't immediately take to it, but Quinn just ate up every moment. I'm so excited for him! Now we'll have to figure out how to foster that at home without any death-defying stunts.

I can hardly wait to hear all the gory details when they get home (they're at a birthday party for a friend of Quinn right now)!

Heffalumps Begone!

We've had to retire the Winney-the-Pooh book. Quinn was quite disturbed by the Heffalumps. They're sort of like elephants but mean. In one particular story, it blows its trunk at all the characters, blowing them out of the garden, and then stomps on the carrots, all for no apparent reason. In analyzing Quinn's reaction, I suppose he has never had to deal with meanness in real life. I don't know what the right stage to begin to deal with meanness in the world is, but I'm pretty sure one-and-a-half should not require it. So out with the Heffalumps it is.

He generally seems to have entered a phase where a lot of things frighten him. I guess he's become much more cognizant of the world around him, and the possible threats they pose to him. Perhaps he's inherited his father's fear of everything. He also appears to have inherited the drama-sensitivity gene, that I and several of my family have. It's a bit of a double-edged sword, never having desensitized to violence, conflict and tension. I suppose in the longer term it might be prudent to preach coping rather than avoidance, but I like to think that above-average sensitivity and empathy is a good thing. The balance will likely be hard to strike in Quinn, as it always has been in myself.

For now, avoidance. Out with the heffalumps.

Touch-a-Truck and Pumper 55

Last Sunday, Father's Day, Mothercraft put on an event called "Touch-a-truck". Quinn is very into trucks (and daddy is too!), so we decided to take him to it. He liked it I think, but he was completely overwhelmed. There were firetrucks and army trucks and streetsweepers and graders and front end loaders and all manner of things. I'm guessing there were 50 displays in total, many of which you could sit in. And many of which you could blow the horn, unfortunately. Imagine 50 7-year olds blowing airhorns simultaneously. The particularly loud horn on the BFI garbage truck put him over the brow and he began to cry, so we left after about 40 minutes. I think he had fun though - we sat in the cab of an enormous army flatbed trailer that can carry tanks, and he sat in the cab of a grader and played with the steering wheel.

After we got home, mommy assigned us to go to the park and get Quinn some exercise. We were on our way when I noticed the flashing lights of some emergency vehicles down the street. Being raised a firetruck-chaser by my own dad, we set out to investigate. It turns out there was a fire in the middle of the night and there were still some firemen there mopping up hotspots, as well as police cars and a Hydro cherry picker truck there. I was talking to Quinn about the firetruck and how it hooked up to the hydrant etc when Kevin The Fireman, driver of Pumper 55 invited Quinn to sit in the cab (and Quinn's dad too!). We climbed up into the cab and Quinn was fascinated, pretending to turn the big steering wheel and trying to blow the horn - Kevin explained that his captain wouldn't be too pleased if the horn started blowing so we were very careful.

While Touch-a-Truck was fun, somehow the Pumper 55 experience was more gratifying, and Quinn seemed to enjoy it more too. It was a quieter setting, and a serendipitous encounter. Seeing trucks at the Truck Zoo is nice, but seing them "in the wild" is way better.

Not coming in out of the rain

Bec is taking to heart the quote "there is no bad weather, just wrong clothing". On rainy days Quinn is clad in his yellow rainsuit with (mostly) watertight cuffs at the legs and hands. They go out and splash in our driveway's many puddles. Then they go to the park. You pretty much get the whole park to yourself if the forecast is anything less than 20 degrees and sunny. Quinn plays blissfully, oblivious to what could be considered inclement weather.

It took me a long time to not hate rain, which looking back seems like it unnecessarily discarded some perfectly usable days. With any luck Quinn will not know enough to come in out of the rain when he grows up.

That blue light

The other night I was going to bed and doing my bedtime-routine house-rounds when I noted this strange blue light out the back window. I looked a little closer to determine what this might be. It then dawned on me that it was the sun, which had not quite set yet! I apparently go to bed a little earlier than I used to...

930pm I was asleep last night. That used to be unheard of for me. It was an exhausting week though, and today it was my turn to get up early - after all it's Father's *Day*, not Father's *Weekend* :) Fortunately Quinn got the memo somehow and slept in til 630am, a full hour and a half longer than most of the past week. Lucky me! Maybe I'll even be able to stay up to see the blue light again tonight.

Words

Quinn is finally beginning to use some words - I was beginning to think that our mental calisthenics in figuring out what he was yelling about was going to set him back. Predictably, the first, the most used, and the most distinguishable is 'no'. However Quinn puts his own personality stamp on it. When he's ambivalent enough emotionally it comes out as a "Nuup" with a glint in his eye that is quite cute. At least for now. When he's quite emotional it is your traditional toddler "NOOOO". The more spectacular renditions include laying flat on the floor, squeezing his arms tight to his body, and other evasive maneuvers. Yes, we're into toddler-ness. Fortunately it doesn't happen very often as of yet. He's also been trying some other words. 'Help', 'half, 'banana' ('nana').

It's funny, but it all seemed to start one day when I commented to Quinn that I was looking forward to him starting to talk because I'm interested in what he is saying in his many babblings. It might have been (probably was) coincidental, but I always wonder how much he understands. I'm certainly not going to tell any dirty jokes around him - like my mother did when I was a kid, only to have me repeat it around the cottage cornboil bonfire to the hilarity of all the little old ladies in attendance. When it comes to assuming his understanding of good stuff, I'll just say "Nuup", but when it comes to saying bad stuff in front of him I'll state an emphatic "NOOOOO"...

My son's father

I took Quinn for a walk yesterday and twice I was identified as Quinn's dad from park connections. The park is a great way to become part of the neighbourhood, which is not an easy thing in Ottawa. It may partly be a city thing, again relating to the repetition theme - without Quinn and the park I would never see these people, at least not often enough for us to speak. It struck me as funny, being a person that grew up in a small town, known as my parents' son or my brother's brother, to now be identified as my son's father. Not that it bothered me - to me it's part of what it means to be family.

These are some of the first new people I've met in 15 years of living here, at least outside of work and expatriate Maritimers. The city and its seemingly endless variety I guess has reduced my repetition rate in going any one place such that I wasn't familiar to anyone. All those years, so much searching, so little finding. All I had to do was give up and stay home to become part of something. One of the many lessons, I suppose, that comes with being Quinn's father.

All roads lead to the park

Quinn spends so much time at the nearby park that I refer to it as his office. He's beginning to know the neighbourhood well enough to know when you're not walking towards it and he begins to fuss when he realizes. You have to be somewhat crafty in route planning, deft in direction changing, and creative in ruse-using if that's not the intended destination.

He really loves his park. In what I read about toddlers, repetition is key for them to be able to establish context among a whole world full of unfamiliar things. It gives them an anchor of understanding to build from. He's extended his range to incorporate the entirety of the park, but strangely enough he has not challenged any of the fencelines yet. Yet he's still aware of what roads lead to the park. It's amazing to watch his little mind work.

Strollercizer

Bec finally found a cheap, non-pink stroller for Quinn at a nearby garage sale. Quinn is over the moon. He regularly swipes other kids' strollers at the park and pushes them all over the place. He just got it about 10 minutes ago. He lit up as soon as he saw Bec walking down the street bringing it home, and he has pushed it all over the house since. I had to pry the dangling stroller out of his hands to feed him his snack. Fortunately once I got him separated from it he realized he was hungry and it became less of an issue.

It's not about pushing things in the stroller, it's just about pushing the empty stroller. Bec put "Pete", a doll in the stroller, and he said "Nuup" which is his first official word (perhaps to no-one's surprise).

Best of all, it was free. It's nice to see other yard-salers adopt the same approach we do - it's not about the money, although we don't always give it away but rather in exchange for a song - but it's about purging unused stuff, and to a deserved and excited new owner. Certainly there is no more deserving and excited new owner for this stroller than Quinn.

Consequential

It was quarter to five in the afternoon. I had been immersed in my work and looked up and noticed the time. There was a couple other things I could do, but my schedule was in as good a shape as could be expected and it was nice out. And Bec & Quinn were probably at the park. I headed home.

I got to the park and they weren't there, but a cellphone call confirmed they were on their way on the bus from downtown. When they arrived I saw them across the street. Bec caught sight of me and pointed me out to Quinn, who looked up and pointed and smiled. We all played in the park for awhile. Quinn reached up for my hand at times while walking over obstacles. Quinn learned to climb a little, at my encouragement and to Bec's dismay.

I could have worked a little longer and finished a couple of inconsequential things. But coming home seemed more consequential today.

Tenacious Q

It was time to come in for supper. Quinn was pushing his lawnmower around the driveway. Lord knows our terrible driveway is in dire need of mowing - but I take some solace in the fact that Quinn thinks we have the best puddles in the neighbourhood right here at home. Anyway, Quinn was not giving up on the lawnmower idea. I picked him up and he hung onto his lawnmower like grim death with both hands, the lawnmower dangling in his grasp and swaying with each of my steps.

We got to the back steps and I pried one hand off the lawnmower, then the other, then the first again, then finally I got both his hands free. He stuck his foot out and caught the handle on the way down. The lawnmower dangled off his foot. I figured this couldn't last long so I waited. It continued to dangle. I swayed a bit hoping to expedite the process. Quinn adjusted his foot and the dangling continued. Finally I bumped it with my leg and gravity was finally allowed to reclaim the last foot of altitude. Amid minor wailing we came in for supper.

Tenacious, this kid.

Scooper rescue

When Bec & Quinn left the park today, The Scooper was nowhere to be found. Bec looked and looked where they had left it in the sand after going to the swings, but it wasn't there any more. Fortunately Quinn didn't seem to notice. When I got the news when I got home I think I was more distraught than Quinn - he probably would've moved right on, but I decided to go back to the park for one more check. Lo and behold there it was on a picnic table in plain sight! I was quite excited. Some kid must've taken it by accident and they or their parents brought it back when they discovered it.

Hose off eh!

Quinn has a new predilection for water sources. The kitchen tap, the bathroom tap, the shower tap. And the garden hose. He loves the garden hose. I taught him how to turn on the nozzle and helped him do it a few times. It's pretty stiff and he seemed to need the help - but then he walked away with the hose while I was momentarily distracted and very nearly squirted the neighbours who were passing by.

He also loves the kitchen tap. Every day, 7 times a day, he walks over to the sink, points at it and says "Ah!". Most times we say no. The other day I finally relented and sat him right in the sink and he turned the tap on and off and tried to operate the sprayer nozzle. Fortunately the sprayer nozzle is even harder to operate than the garden hose and I managed to escape unscathed. Quinn was absolutely soaked though. Now he asks 14 times a day. I've created a monster :)

He had a blast (pun intended) operating the hose at Gramma and Grampa's on the weekend. Grampa was trying desperately to teach Quinn to spray other people, but so far he's quite focused on the nozzle-operating part. It won't take long before he masters it and Grampa can move him onto the finer nuances of nozzle-operating motivations though, I'm sure.

Toys for Alan

We were dog-sitting Quinn's Aunt Caitlin's dog Alan this weekend. Quinn was quite excited about this prospect. Alan is sort of one step above a stuffed animal, so he's not too intimidating for Quinn. And while Alan gets a little startled by some of the vagaries of human 1-year-olds, really he handles Quinn quite well.

Last night after supper, Quinn was playing in the living room while Alan roosted on the couch. One by one Quinn brought all his toys to show Alan. Over came Quinn's most prized possessions - his excavator, his Scooper, his books. Alan handled those ok. Alan was slightly less excited about the walking sticks and fishing rod. Quinn was puzzled as to why Alan wasn't as excited about his toys as all the kids at the playground are.

It was an early glimpse into what it must be like to have two young kids. It involved constant refereeing as long as Quinn was awake - and we only had to worry about what Quinn would do to Alan, not vice-versa (Alan is the most placid dog ever...). I can see why people say two kids is more than twice the work. However, I think some important mental groundwork was laid for Quinn, and I think he and Alan will have fun together in future...once Alan is more convinced that Quinn isn't going to eat him.

6 am

I never thought I'd ever hear myself say it, but I'm very excited about the fact that Quinn's getting up at 6am. Compared to 5am, it's a huuuuuuuuge improvement. And I'm not even the one who was doing the getting up at that hour - Bec is practically beside herself with glee.

He woke between 6am and 630am 6 days in a row. At first we were concerned he was getting sick, as previously those were the only days he slept more. After a couple days it seemed he wasn't sick, and we dared to hope. It's still not a sure thing - he needed some help getting back to sleep at 5am, eventually getting up at 545 today - but we're hopeful he has turned a corner.

It seems like such a small difference, but it seems not all nighttime hours are created equal in terms of sleep. All three of us are sleeping much better. Bec looks forward to seeing him when he awakes, rather than involuntarily resenting the ungodly hour. Where I was unable to get back to sleep after 5, I seem to be able to after 6, and those two extra hours make a humungous difference for this former night-owl. I can get up at 7, feel much better rested, and much less guilty for not being with Bec and Quinn for that time. Quinn is in much better spirits too, with the extra sleep making him happier, more animated and more resilient through the course of the day.

All this sleep struggle makes me realize how key sleep is to happiness. I have cheated myself of sleep most of my life, oftentimes to my detriment. I won't say that my night-owl tendencies are gone for good, but I do have a more proper appreciation for slumber. Now if we can just imbue Quinn with that thinking before he's 40...

A Scooper full of imagination

Bec got another great toy for Quinn at the St. Vincent's today. For the worldly sum of $0.99, she got the Scooper. It's quite a good toy actually - rolls well, makes a satisfying mechanical clicking when rolling, bucket goes up and down easily, colourful, and has a decidely catchy moniker. Quinn is very excited by machines that dig, and he loves digging in the sand at the nearby park. He loves his Scooper. I mean, really really loves it. He dug in the sand with it. He carried it on the swing. He brought it into the bathtub. Fortunately we separated it from him in an inattentive moment just before bed.

The best part about it is that it doesn't take batteries. It's virtually impossible to find a toy that doesn't beep, flash, or drive on its own. Where's the imagination in all that?? Bec also scored some handmade wooden toys recently, including some planes and cars. With a little encouragement, Quinn has learned to make a fine "vroom" sound when he pushes his cars around.

When he was in the bathtub tonight with his Scooper, he started picking up something and putting it in the bucket of his Scooper. I looked a little more closely. There was nothing in his hand. He did it over and over. Finally I suggested it was probably full, and he dumped out the non-existent contents of his Scooper bucket.

It's an uphill struggle in today's society, but we might instill some imagination in this kid yet! All hail the Scooper! Vrooom!

Time to go Gladys

Quinn's not big on prolonged goodbyes. When I go to work in the morning, I tell him it's time for daddy to go to work, and he usually waves at that point. Then put on my shoes and collect my stuff, say goodbye and wave as I go out the door, wave at him through the front window, and wave again from the car. He completely loses interest after his first wave. It's somewhat reminiscent of my grandfather's impatient response to my grandmother (Gladys) and her 'infinite leaving' tendencies. Apparently I have inherited those from her, and Quinn has inherited my grandfather's reaction.

Quinn waves at everything. Mostly he only waves to things when he's leaving them now, rather than all the time as it was there for awhile. He waves to the park when we leave it. He waves to the living room when we take him upstairs for bed at night. He waves to his bathtoys when we take him out of the tub. But he doesn't wave more than once when you're leaving, so get cracking!

Early mornings

Quinn has me conditioned to wake up every day at 5am now. I wake up then even when he sleeps in til 630, although admittedly those times are rare. Unfortunately, while I'm going to sleep a couple hours earlier than is natural for me, I'm not going to sleep at 9pm so I'm accumulating quite a sleep debt. I'm lucky to break even sleep-wise on the weekends. Something's going to need to change.

Mornings seem to be the last sleep frontier. He goes to sleep easily all on his own. He stays asleep / gets himself back to sleep all by himself all through the night. I think Bec still walks and sings some for his naps, but he is capable of going to sleep by himself for naps if you're willing to let him scream for a half hour.

All in all sleep's going a lot better, but sometimes it's hard to see that because the improvements are so incremental. I'm not sure what we're going to do about 5am, and I think it's going to be a tough nut to crack, but I now feel we'll get there someday where historically there were times I really wondered. One more hurdle to overcome.

Scarry...Very Scarry

Richard Scarry that is... One time when I was home in NS, I absconded with two Richard Scarry books that I loved when I was a kid. One is copyrighted 1969 and the other 1972, but I was at another parent's house a while back and saw another one so they must still publish them. Anyway, Quinn LOVES them. He studies the pages, points at things and makes excited noises. He's beginning to know many of the recurring characters. And of course he LOVES all the pages with power shovels on them.

They're great books really, explaining how communities function, and houses and boats and many other things. Many of the things Quinn already has been exposed to, and the explanations seem to expand his understanding. They seem to have intensified his already-large love of reading. And that's a good thing. Whoa - did I just quote Martha Stewart? Scary, very scary.

Cleanest kitchen floor ever

Quinn has developed an intense love for the kitchen broom and dustpan. He goes to the utility closet and says "Ah! Ah!" until we open it and give them to him. Then our 2.5' tall son carries the 4' high broom around everywhere. He quite often gets it stuck in things but he's improving his broom navigation. He often moves it back and forth as if he's sweeping.

He also is a pretty good dustpan operator. Bec gave him a couple lessons yesterday about holding the dustpan while she swept, and then showed him how to dump it in the garbage can. This morning he wanted to do the same thing with me. He started by shaking the dirt out of the back door mat, and then brought the broom to me and shoved the handle end into my hand. I swept up the dirt and got him to hold the dustpan on the floor while I swept the dirt into it. Then, with only a little bit of help with dustpan stability (and a couple of tries) he dumped the contents into the garbage. He picks stuff up quickly, this kid! Our kitchen floor has never been so clean.

Not a bad kid even remotely

We have a bathroom off our living room. This morning I took short and had to have a "sit" while taking care of Quinn. He and I played through the gate to the bathroom for awhile. Then he spotted the remote control sitting on the couch. Where he could reach it. His eyes lit up. He walked across the room to the couch and reverently touched the remote that he knows he's not supposed to have.

He looked over at me, immobilized on my perch. Unfortunately nature was not to be rushed on my part. I tried to remain calm and asked him to bring the remote over to dad. And lo and behold - he carefully picked up the remote, toddled over to me and passed it over the gate! What a good kid!

As a reward, I promised him we'd have a remote lesson later on. True to my word, we practiced turning the TV on and off later on, and he was thrilled (although I kept the emphasis on operating the remote, not watching TV...that's still verboten).

Soon he'll be able to give nana and grampy remote lessons :)

A good 'ol hootenanay

I was sitting on the kitchen floor with Quinn, amid all his kitchen toys. Bec came in and sat down on the floor too. I grabbed a plastic bowl and started tapping on it. Bec took the eggbeaters and started banging them on a metal pan. Quinn started banging on a metal pan too. Then I found the marinade pump - what a cool toy that is! By blowing across the opening and moving the pump up and down it makes a neat rising and falling sound. It also clicks nicely at both extremeties. We cacaphonied away for awhile, Quinn rocking back and forth in time and occasionally banging on things, to our encouragement. Bec's 'Creative Family' book talks about such family gatherings and refers to them as 'hootenanays'. I think we shall have to make such hootenanays a regular occurence.

After Quinn started to lose interest in hootenanaying, I found the turkey baster fit quite nicely into the inverted marinade pump. With a suspense building countdown, I'd then punch the pump and launch the turkey baster into the waiting hands of mommy, to the great squeals of Quinn. That game lasted quite awhile until we decided we should wind things down with some reading so he wasn't swinging from the chandelier when it was time for bed.

A great night all around really.

Solo sliding

Quinn goes down the slide at the park on his own now! He's quite proud of himself when doing so, apparently. I haven't seen it yet but hopefully tomorrow. He also spent some time pushing his wagon around in a circle today at the park - another first. He was splashing at the river's edge (under Bec's constant supervision of course) yesterday. New explorations and capabilities every day - what an exciting age.

I've been quite ill with a flu / cold / chest infection of some sort, including losing my voice for a few days. It doesn't take long to fall out of the loop I tell you - between all my sleeping and my silence, Quinn almost forgot who I was I think. I never realized how much I actually talk to him until I couldn't. I'm now recovered to the point where it'll drag on at 10% because I won't rest enough to finish it off :) At least Quinn remembers who I am now.

Another great leap forward

Another visit from nana and grampy, another Great Leap Forward for Quinn. He seemed like a whole different kid by the time they left. He has become even more socially interactive, laughing and smiling at things people do, bringing books to be read, giggling at the books, responding to tickles and being chased. He has become fully mobile too, walking on his own, going "under the bridge" of propped up legs when people are sitting and popping back up onto his feet on the other side. He clearly understands so many words now, although he doesn't speak much yet - I think his ability to communicate effectively without words may mean that comes a little more slowly. I'm trying not to worry about it. His disposition has really become much more sunny too - he smiles and laughs a whole lot more, and gives visible and audible reactions to so many things now.

The advent of spring weather has improved things too. He and Bec spend A Lot Of Time Outside now, at the park, at the river, and biking / walking / jogging everywhere with Quinn in the chariot. All the exercise and fresh air is making for better sleeps - after a recent sleep training effort, which was much easier I think probably due to the previous efforts and the fact that he was just more ready for it now, he goes to sleep easily on his own, and stays asleep until early morning. The last two nights in a row he's actually slept in to a reasonable hour! Could we have turned a corner? Here's hoping!

Dances without wolves

Nana and Grampy brought Quinn a little toy train that plays "Mary Had A Little Lamb". Since it's the only song it plays, and it's not the Stevie Ray Vaughn version I think it might not wear so well...however Quinn seems to love it. He bounces and sways with the music, looking all the world like he's dancing. Hopefully he'll learn his dance moves from his mother, not his father. The train has got some animals that came with it that ride on the train cars. Absent among them are any wolves.

Rebecca takes Quinn to a "Make Music Meaningful" class once every week. It's made it such that Quinn thinks of music as something he does as opposed to something he listens to, which I am quite pleased about. Some evenings I play guitar and Quinn plays along too, shaking his shaker, his tambourine, or banging on his drum. Singing to him often soothes him when nothing else will. I think already music is meaningful in Quinn's life, and I look forward to nurturing that over the years.

Gotcha Grampy!

Quinn's Nana and Grampy are here for a visit from Nova Scotia. Yesterday afternoon we were all in the living room and Grampy said "come over and give me a hug, Quinn". Quinn toddled over to Grampy with a big smile and gave him a hug that lit up his whole day. Then we said "go give Nana a hug" and he repeated the exercise back across the room towards Nana, to similar effect.

Then they said "go give Grampy a hug" again. He started off towards Grampy again with hands out and eyes lit up. Grampy was all lit up in anticipation. Then at the last second Quinn veered off in another direction, seemingly with a twinkle in his eye. Everyone had a good laugh. In his own way perhaps Quinn was stating that while he can follow instructions, he's not a trained seal. You can only go to the well so often. Something for us to keep in mind as we all get older I think.

Afternoon at the park

Quinn has a newfound love of playing outside. Today was an absolutely beautiful day, and I had a little overtime in the bag at work this week, so I came home early and we all went over the the nearby park. Quinn had a great play in the sand, on the swings and slides, and walking around the empty wading pool. A great afternoon!

We're sleep training again. After a hard-won relative peace, things went off the rails during Christmas travel. Then we achieved a new less-strict equilibrium post-Christmas. When we traveled to Wichita and we all got sick, sleep went completely to hell in a handbasket. I guess we have to cut Quinn some slack - I certainly wasn't on a train or an airplane for long-haul travel at Quinn's age. That doesn't make the sleep challenge any easier though.

It's Night 4 now. It's going well at bedtime, and he's made it mostly through the night the last two nights. The 430AM wakeup is the tough one though - he's used to nursing then, and he's usually pretty awake and quite able to scream for an hour until we (well, Bec) just get him up. That one may take awhile. The particularly sad part is knowing that any time we travel or get sick we'll have to go through the same training again. Hopefully it at least gets easier every time.

Wichita - the good, the bad, the ugly

We have friends who live in Wichita currently, and we've been meaning to visit them for awhile now. One of their two kids is about to undergo surgery for a congenital heart defect, so we thought now would be a good time to show our support. We left Thursday morning, with a little trepidation regarding how Quinn was going to handle his first plane trip, including a change at one of the largest airports in the world at O'Hare.

Quinn was a star on the plane ride. We fed him one meal on the first leg and together with some nursing, his ears were fine and the time passed amicably. At O'Hare he was completely fascinated with all the goings on of a busy airport. All the planes, buses, trucks, baggage cars and people had him completely mesmerized and he spent the whole time pointing and grunting at things of interest.

Bec managed to find a little corridor to an emergency exit that was quiet enough to get him to sleep and he napped for much of the time. Which was good since our scheduled two hour layover was to become three and a half due to one of the infamous O'Hare delays. Fortunately though, we checked the board often, first to detect the delay and a gate change, then to detect reversion to the original schedule and yet another gate change. Eventually, we got on our plane, reasonably on time. Another feeding on the plane and suddenly we were there, and after the couple of minor hiccups really the whole thing went quite well. Once again, Quinn proves to be an able adventurer!

We mostly laid low the first day. Our hosts had a couple medical appointments in anticipation of the surgery, and we were able to look after their other daughter who is a really nice, sweet, good smart little girl. Quinn loved to follow her around, which I think got a little tiresome for her by the end of the trip, but not this day.

That night (Friday) I came down with the stomach flu. Really violently. Outside of one food poisoning, it's the sickest I can ever remember being. Every half hour, both ends, for 6 hours through the night. I was terrified I was going to give it to their daughter having the surgery, and I was terrified I wasn't going to be in shape to fly home. In part to quarantine myself and in part to try to speed my recovery, I stayed in bed the whole next day and into Sunday - not that that was difficult because all I wanted to do was sleep, which I did for 33 hours of a 40 hour period (including the time actually being sick).

On Sunday I finally emerged, shellshocked. My relationship with food was still somewhat adversarial, but at least I was recovering. We spent some time in the backyard, and Quinn loved the chance to play outside for the first time. Quinn walked a mile in their backyard.

That night Bec caught the flu. The hubbub eventually woke Quinn. And then just when he'd begin to settle she'd have to go again. Quinn, of course, was puzzled as to why mommy would have to bolt from the bed to the ensuite bathroom at intervals, followed by these inhuman sounds. He cried and cried. Showing him mommy helped some, but made it worse some too. Singing didn't calm him, which is somewhat unusual. Bec reciting stories helped, but I can't remember the words to anything and Bec was too incapacitated to do this for any lenght of time. I began reading a Dr Suess compendium. It includes a Bartholomew Cubbins story that's really well past Quinn's age level, plus not in the usual Suessian rhythm and rhyme, but he was totally galvanized by it. I read 243 pages of Dr Suess that night. Nobody got much sleep, but we got through the night.

At some point that night, Quinn also puked a big puddle in the bed. Uh oh we thought - here we go. But it was a one-off event and after a bed change that was the end of it for him. Unfortunately though, puking noises became apparent from elsewhere in the house during the night - two of our hosts had caught it, including their youngest who was due for surgery. I was mortified that we had some all this way to show our support and instead we got their daughter sick, but in the end it turned out to be no serious impact. At least none that they'd let on to - hopefully it's true.

Bec wasn't in shape to fly so we had to postpone our flight back a day. It turns out that due to some sort of error they had cancelled Bec's return ticket, but fortunately we were able to straighten that out. We spent an additional day recuperating. That last day, the other two of our four hosts caught the flu, meaning it went clear through all 7 of is in 5 days flat. Highly contagious would you say? The next day, Tuesday, our flight went completely smoothly, blessedly. I was sooooo glad to see home again - at times I had felt like I was on Apollo 13 on the other side of the moon, wondering whether I'd ever get back...

One of our primary motivations in going down was to show our support for our friends in their difficult time, and I suppose there was a little symbolism in getting through this flu menace together. Flying 2000 miles to get a close-up view of my friends' toilet for 6 days I'm afraid isn't going to rank up there in vacation memories for me, but there are more important things in life. We made it through together and we will continue to make it through whatever comes, together.

Walk-walk-walking!

I think we can declare that Quinn took his first official steps tonight! More specifically, he was walk-walk-walk-walking - it was four steps from the fridge to mommy, who was holding the highly motivating Red Serving Spoon. We think it is what he's been screaming for for three days whenever he's in the kitchen. Yes, anyway, 4 whole steps! A new World Record for Poopsie-Stepping! Pretty steady too.

I have to say, the whole transition to walking thing isn't as sharp a transition as I'd imagined. He's been standing steadily for small periods of time for quite awhile now. He's even taken a step or two on a number of occasions but it's not like he just got up and walked across the room one day. I don't know why I pictured it that way - it doesn't really make sense.

This will open up a whole new realm of things he's not supposed to get into, which will be quite exciting for Quinn. Like his father (in spite of best intentions), it seems he only focuses on the things he doesn't have rather than the things he does. I suppose our questing leads to new things even if it doesn't result in the sought thing. Sometimes this striving is hard to understand but it's amazing to watch the natural, innate striving and pride of learning as Quinn achieves new masteries.

Helicopter snuggling

Quinn had a mysterious fever for three days. He was miserable at times, but it seems to have subsided now. Oddly, there were no other symptoms. Now he has a red rash on his face, which could be related - Bec discovered some viral thing it might be, but it's nothing to worry about either.

During one of those miserable days, Quinn woke about 10pm absolutely shrieking. It might have been the wind - 60km/h gusting to 90 - or it might of been the illness, who knows. Whatever the case, he was inconsolable. After quite awhile of this I went in to see if I could help. Bec was cradling Quinn in her arms in the chair and it was having absolutely no effect. I remembered the skin-contact theory from his younger days, which had been effective then. Bec tried it and he began to settle some, but he was clearly still miserable and clingy. We decided to take him to bed with us.

All went pretty well for awhile. With some singing he got to sleep in his now-strange confines of our bed. He slept quite well for several hours. I did too, in spite of the fact that I remember him roaming around until he was pointed south on the bed, and he curled up so his head was resting on my stomach. I remember thinking that that should probably be uncomfortable, but then I apparently fell asleep again. A little later in the night he got quite restless and was roaming around, flailing his arms, and rotating, all while asleep. I think Bec took the brunt of it since I don't recall waking much.

Who knows what caused it? Maybe he sensed our consternation at Bec considering a job opportunity? Or maybe it was just The Crud. Whatever it was, I hope it's gone. Snuggling with Quinn is nice but I don't want to have to wear my hockey gear to bed.

Noseprints

The front bay window is covered with snotty noseprints from Quinn pressing his face to the glass. In spite of the grossness, I have to say it makes me smile. When I leave for work now, he stands on the windowsill of the bay window. He taps the window and I tap back from the outside. He waves and points. He waves again as I depart in the car.

When I get home, the process is often repeated. We also spend time standing in the window, looking out at the daycare traffic across the street, squirrels, cars and trucks, and whatever else is going on outside. I can forgive a dirty window for all the fun we have in the front windowsill.

Checking the telemetry

Quinn's room is equipped with the Latest Sensors and Equipment to Facilitate the Sleep Management Process. It starts with the Summer Audio and Colour Video Monitor with LED Night-Vision Technology. Follow that with the 280Mhz Indoor/Outdoor Wireless Thermometer with Remote Probe (we don't probe anything...) to track the temperature in his (unducted) room. Then there's the Rechargeable LED Plug-In / Battery Powered Night Light with Dual Light Settings. Oh, and the Bionaire Sleep Machine with 27 Sleep Inducing Sounds, Including Waterfall and Rushing River.

All the glossy brochures in the world and he still sleeps like crap. Hopefully the technology isn't part of the problem.

Cereal escapades

Last Saturday morning I got up with Quinn to give Bec a break, as I hadn't been contributing much due to the stress of my work instability (layoffs occurred Thursday and I wasn't one of them...let's hope they're over for awhile...). Bec had given me instructions some days previously regarding his breakfast cereal. In my (very early...) morning fog I began preparations.

I found the box of powdered cereal. I began to dump some in a dish. Tip, nothing. Tip, tap, tap, nothing. Tip, Whack WHOOSH, a whole bunch. Hmmm, looks like a week's worth. Oh well let's see what I can make of it. How much water should I add? Read box. Smiling baby, organic, friendly, we're so nice...no directions. How much water?? This is clearly not targetted at engineers. Read top of box, bottom, sides...nothing. Oh well, let's wing it. Run tap, pour water into dish WHOOSH instant soup about an inch deep. Hmmm, a do-over in order methinks.

A second attempt with wiser applications of tapping and pouring seemed to produce the right consistency. Now...she said something about prunes. No prune cereal boxes...check fridge, no none in there. Think. Baby food jars, that's it! Find stash, find prunes jar, open it. Now what? Stir it in? How much? With newly aquired wisdom from pouring escapades I spooned in a bit and stirred, then repeated. There, looks pretty much like when Bec makes it.

By the time I finally finished, I think Quinn was so hungry he would have eaten anything. As it was, he ate lots of the cereal and the mission was a success. Now if I can just get my prep time down under half an hour maybe he won't starve on my watch. Wish me luck - it's probably my turn again tomorrow.

Waving

Quinn has figured out the waving thing. Thing is, he hasn't quite mastered the when-to-wave part. He and I spent some time waving at one another in the bathtub tonight. It's all a bit confusing I suppose. We have hello sometimes, we wave goodbye, we wave goodnight. Seldom do we wave from the bathtub though - but it's early in the waving game and it was pretty cute, so I didn't want to discourage it.

He waved at me through the front window this morning while I was scraping ice off my car. When a school bus caught his eye, then I was chopped liver though. He's pretty cute standing up in the dining room front bay window well. He has gotten lots of waves from passersby, garbage truck drivers and occasionally people coming to the door, and that's with mommy or daddy helping him with the waving. Now that he can do it on his own I'm sure he'll be trying his new waving act out on birds, squirrels, parked cars and whatever else is within eyeshot.

Hockey stick

How has it taken us this long? Today Bec picked up a Quinn-sized hockey stick at the sports store. Quinn was quite taken with it. So much so, in fact, that the no-snowshovels-at-the-table rule had to be expanded to cover hockey sticks. When I got home from work I showed him some stickhandling with his blue ball and he giggled. He giggled even more when I shot the ball against the basement door. Not habits to encourage indoors in the long term I suppose, but the concepts of stickhandling and shooting are important to instill at a young age :)

He took a couple of unaided steps tonight. His hands were never far from safety, but he's making incremental progress at walking every day. He is a master of his dump truck now - he can push it around, turn it around obstacles, and walk to its other end to push it the other way when he hits a wall. He has even turned it around 180 degrees in tight quarters by himself. This makes for a great spectator sport for mommy and daddy ensconced on the couch.

Bec had him to the doctor again today. We're mildly worried that there's a medical reason for his night wakeups. The doctor observed that he hasn't gained weight again, which is not the first time. After a blazing growth rate in the early going he's really plateaued. It's probably nothing to be worried about, but we're going to see a pediatrician anyway. Perhaps he's merely destined to be a speedy centre rather than a power winger.

Our little nosepicker

Quinn has learned that most important of skills - how to pick his own nose. On the upside, it means mommy can probably ease up some on Booger Patrol, but the downside is the back of the couch will never be the same.

On a less gross note, he has also gotten quite adept at the "Where's your (insert toy name here)" game. He has picked out a half dozen toys on request the last few days. He has demonstrated understanding of many words in this way and others. He is standing unsupported for up to 10 seconds, and can walk short distances with minimal hand-holding. He is also beginning to get the idea of non-destructive play a little - while previously he would only destroy hapless towers and train track assemblies, now he will humour them for a little while; plus he has learned how to put things inside other things, like toys into buckets or cups.

First came the toy phase, then mobility in the form of crawling. Then came exploring. Now he seems to be in a big learning phase. Now we just need to teach him that ancient adage - you can pick your nose and you can pick your friends, but you can't wipe your friends on the back of the couch.

Imagine that

Quinn gets a kick out of things crashing together. Whether it's toys tipping over, dropping, or running into one another, he giggles. Loud noises, at least the ones that don't frighten him, make him giggle too. You see him flinch ever so slightly and blink, but then he giggles.

This evening Bec was reading Quinn a book in which a group of characters crash into another group of characters, sending them all flying. Quinn got a big giggle out of the picture. There were crash-boom-bang words to go along with them, which usually get a smile out of him too, but the giggles and smiles lasted well beyond the words. I think he was envisioning chaos such as his play situations that make him laugh. Imagine that!

Collective Couch Time

After supper Quinn has a little playtime before bath and bed. Bec often sits on the couch, sometimes I sit on the floor with Quinn, and usually I end up on the couch with Bec too. Quinn, of course, wants to be part of this congregation. We pull him up and he clambers all over us, gives his mom Flying Tackles, and generally has fun.

Tonight we had a rousing game of Fort on the couch. Pulling the blanket over all our heads, Quinn got a big grin on.

It wasn't consciously decided on, but it's happened enough times to be called a pattern now. I have to say I really enjoy it, enough so that I hope to make it a nightly tradition. It's a great way to forget the stresses of the day.

Bath aversions and Books

Quinn has always loved the bath. Suddenly in the last couple of weeks he's started shrieking when Bec lays him down in the bath. We have no idea why. There have been no bath tipovers, water in the eyes, or anything else that would prompt it. Even situp baths elicit minor cries. I wonder what goes through his little head sometimes.

He still just eats up books. He got a couple new ones and he wants them read 17 times per day. I have to say the new development of excessive repeats gets a little tiring for mom & dad, but we realize it's how he learns. I'm just so excited that he can make his own book choices, and that he loves to read so much.

The cure for bad days

Recently we found out that Rebecca's job is being privatized. Today I find out my project at work is in jeopardy, and there is an implied threat of layoffs. Some co-workers were knocking off early and going to the pub. I mulled that over for a second, but decided to go home early instead.

Quinn got two new books today. When I walked in he held one up, looked at me and grunted. I couldn't help but smile. I read him the book and then hung out on the floor with him while he emptied the pantry for the 87th time. Later on he picked up the other new book and crawled across the floor with it for me to read to him.

That, and of course the loving support of Rebecca, is exactly what I'd hoped for when I opted for home over the pub.

Impromptu Pantry Reorg

It's less about toys these days for Quinn, and more about exploring. He got into the pantry cupboard today. Bec observed that it wouldn't be many weeks before we had to relocate some stuff from that cupboard. Try "not many minutes" - before long he had a beer bottle in his hand. Time for an immediate pantry reorg.

Anything at an altitude of 3' or less is not safe. We've had to relocate the phone to prevent inadvertent calls to Yemen. Putting your coffee down is an adventure. The lingering baseboard replacement project has led to some drywall damage at the hand of Quinn. An inquisitive mind is a good thing right? I have to keep reminding myself of that fact.

Sugarbush

We had a great day at Fulton's Sugar Shack today. We met Gramma and Grandpa and Aunt Caitlin there for a great meal. There was a young guy playing fiddle there who was quite good. Quinn was quite taken with the music. Once the lunch rush subsided, some of the staff were doing some step dancing. It was a fun time all around, and Quinn was taking it all in. After that we went for a sleigh ride. The weather was perfect and the people were friendly, and Quinn loved the horses.

Unfortunately Quinn got so keyed up by the whole affair that he wouldn't nap this afternoon. Not in the car, not in his crib once we got home, not even in our bed with us. Oh well - bedtime came early and he held up pretty well in the interim. Hopefully the overtiredness doesn't affect tonight's sleep. It would have to go some to be worse than last night's, waking up half a dozen times. It's frustrating that sleep is still such a struggle after all this time. It's no accident that nature makes kids that cute :)

Yesterday we had a great skate on the canal. Quinn had his first taste of a Beaver Tail. He was quite taken with the whole idea. A lifetime love affair with sugar begins...hopefully it's not at the root of the sleep problems.

Life with Riley

Friends of ours have a son named Riley, who is two weeks younger than Quinn. Quinn is fascinated with Riley. Riley was over for a pre-daycare afternoon recently, and the two of them has a ball together. They're too young to play together, but they followed one another around and Quinn giggled and smiled whenever Riley did anything.

Quinn is always fascinated with other kids, but he seems particularly so with Riley. I theorize that it's because they are so close in age. At this stage, kids differ so much in capabilities for just a small difference in age; Riley is close enough in age to Quinn as to be someone Quinn can really identify with, capability-wise. Riley is taking his first steps - maybe this will be inspirational for Quinn.

While he's interested in other kids, I can't even fathom having him in daycare right now. I'm so glad Bec's staying home for a second year. I guess millions of kids do it and thrive. Riley didn't miss his mom much in his afternoon here, to mixed reactions of his mother. But for us it just doesn't feel right; we would have tried to prep him for it and I'm sure he would have been fine, but it wouldn't have been a natural progression. I guess sometimes we all grow at a natural pace, and sometimes we're thrust into growing, but with the option available to us, why thrust him unnecessarily? In this case, living the life of Riley would not be, for us, the Life of Riley.

Spinerama

Quinn has done this thing for awhile now where he spins around while sitting on the floor, propelling himself around in circles with one foot an stabilizing himself with the other foot. Like the Mars landers, he crawls along, then pulls up and spins to scan the situation, and then continues on.

He's not quite walking. He does get around quite ably by crawling and cruising though. He pushes his dumptruck around lots, and can even maneuver himself a little to get unstuck. As a result, my guess is it'll be a little before he walks just due to lack of necessity. We're not stressing about it. When he's ready, he'll walk.

Where's your tractor?

We're in the kitchen, playing with Quinn's new fridge magnets. I say "where's your new tractor Aunt Caitlin got you for your birthday? Where's your tractor?". He looks at me for a second, and then promptly crawls out to the living room and picks up his tractor from among 20 toys strewn on the floor. Smart kid!

Tonight I had a tired mental slip-up and said to Quinn's of Tulsa's meowing, "I think Tulsa wants Luther to come over and pat her", when I meant to say 'Quinn' instead of Luther. Luther's been gone for almost two weeks but Quinn crawled over to the basement door and looked under the gate, down the stairwell, waiting for Luther. Impressive that he remembers him, but very sad all at the same time.

Juggling

Quinn got a hoop and some balls as a new bathtime toy for his birthday. Tonight as I was lifeguarding post-bath I picked up a couple of the balls and started trying to juggle one-handed, forgetting of course that I don't know *how* to juggle. Quinn started giggling. In the history of juggling, there has been no worse juggler who got as favourable response as me. I eventually got up to maybe 4 or 5 in a row, but the failures were as entertaining as the successes to Quinn. It won't be long before I get in trouble with mommy for juggling in the house so we'll have to enjoy the surreptitious giggles while we can.

Obie the Owl

Some time ago Bec bought Quinn a stuffed owl at a local arts and crafts fair. He didn't take to it much at the time. Recently though, Bec tried him again and it seems to have caught this time. The Harry Potter association and owl-woods expeditions with Grandpa make the owl a solid choice I think. We've dubbed him Obie, for the alliteration, a reference to Obi-Wan Kenobe and a nod to a new era of leadership south of the 49th. With that many positive associations, how can we go wrong?!

Quinn is very cute with Obie. He hugs him when he goes to bed. It also calms him and gets him back to sleep sometimes at night, which has been a prop eagerly sought but to no avail these past months.

I sense there will be at least one "turn-around-and-go-back" to get Obie in future. Remind me then that I said now it'll be worth it.

The big sandbox in the sky

So long Luther. I loved you. Maybe I didn't always show it is much as I felt it but it was always true. We did what we thought was best for you. I hope you knew that and thought so too, or at least understood. I hope there is a better place and that it's true for cats too, and I hope you're there now. I learned a lot from you, and we shared a lot of love, and I think that's all anyone or anything could ever hope for in a lifetime. Eight years ago I never would have predicted that I could love a cat this much but you taught me otherwise. You opened my mind so I could learn a lesson. So long good friend.