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.