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.