Mobile Sandbox!!

   Whoa! This was unexpected!! I made a quick, kind-of-spontaneous trip to by some soil for our planter boxes and berry bushes, but wasn't able to lay the soil for a while. Guess what resulted?! That's right!! A giant sandbox on wheels!!

Well, it's not sand, obvs, because we aren't planting our veggies in sand, so don't freak out on me about my soil choice, but sheesh did Wyatt love playing in that dirt.

Nothing makes a man feel like a more accomplished father than having his son all dirty, smiley, and happy to play in the bed of his truck, while that man crushes Candy Crush and hums some bars of Frozen.

Who knew that spending 30-some bucks on dirt could feed our plants AND feed Wyatt's imagination?! I did, but you didn't so now you ... do ... wait...

Fertilizer?

That... that was fertilized dirt he was playing in. And then eating. And then licking me. Does that ...huh. So, I guess that means that I am still a really great dad and we shouldn't dwell on this anymore but just remember how happy he was and how awesome it was and goodbye.

My mood: not at all disgusted
Wyatt's mood: not at all clean
Listening to: not at all Frozen

Vacation!!

   Way back at the new year, Cara and Wyatt and I took a vaycay to cali. Something I learned while vaycaying in cali: only posers call it "cali" and only girls call it "vaycay." The three of us flew to San Jose, rented a car and made stops and stays in Monterey, Big Sur, San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, and ... um ... Riverside.

   Now you're thinking "wait how did I not know this?! Someone spending time in California is required to absolutely blow up my instagram, facebook, twitter, and send me postcards so that the whole world knows!! Well, I wanted to play it cool because a) that's what this blog is for, and b) IF I ANNOUNCE TO THE WORLD THAT I AM GONE WHILE I AM GONE THEN EVERYONE WILL COME ROB ME!!! And I don't want to lose my Pokemon cards, because I have a killer deck that my brother could never beat because I made him trade me that Venusaur for a Charmeleon when he was like seven and what a sucker. I think he's learned from that experience though.

There's a real fun aquariam in Monterey that everyone says you have to visit. This was a big tank with sharks and turtles and sadly nothing eathing anything else. It's located inside the Mystery Science 2000 Leagues Under The Sea Theater. It turns out that when you've seen Free Willy in person, a little hammerhead isn't so impressive.

There was also a clam that made Cara uncomfortably happy. Like, I was uncomfortable. Wy wasn't too sure either.

In Monterey, there is a place where thousands of Monarch butterflies are supposed to converge. I don't know why this is exciting. Do they taste good or something? Anyways, the wife really wanted to check it out, and on the way we found this awesome park bench. I was so relieved to finally learn that the legacy did not in fact die, but was continuing very, very far from Colorado.

(we saw like 4 butterflies).

Big Sur was nice, although not a great place to go with a 2 year old. Wyatt napped at all the wrong times (hikes) and wanted to play at all the wrong times (in the car). Here was a waterfall that we just "had to see" according to everyone, and apparently Big Sur doesn't realize that these little suckers litter every highway in Oregon. I learned that Big Sur is not a place where dudes go to surf.

There were, however, lots of really awesome views. This is where we thought we'd find Peter Pan as the mermaids try to drown Wendy. Cara thought I was a little too excited at the idea of seeing a mermaid, but I kept telling her that I've seen topless fish hundreds of times. In fact I don't even get excited by it anymore.

   This is the mission in Santa Barbara. I wasn't sure why we were making a point to see it once I learned it wasn't like a famous restaurant or anything. I'd show you pictures of the inside, but you care less than I do so let's move on.

   We had a wonderful time in Santa Barbara. I was hoping to bump into the guys from Psych, and hung around all the crime scenes I could find, but alas. The thing we liked most about SB is it's where we spent the longest time crashed on the beach. Wyatt loved the beach. Like, I think it might now be his favorite thing in the world besides his dad and fussing. I will have a separate post about our beach adventures, but hopefully this will ... tide ... you over.

My mood: ready for another vaycay - dang it! I mean vacation!!
Wyatt's mood: looking for a single missing car
Listening to: Kings of Leon on repeat for like 7 days.

Thomas Time!!

No, no, Wyatt didn't solve that all on his own. I did. No, no, I didn't solve that, the neighbor boys did and then I stole it and gave it to Wyatt.

   There are a couple things that Cara and I find inevitable. For example, we know that one of these days I'll post something on the internet that forces us to move, because I've alienated all of our neighbors or told the bad guys that we've never once locked our front door, because we never actually got keys to our house. We know that one day she's going to go a little crazy, because every mom ever has gone a little crazy. Yes, even yours. And we knew that Wyatt was going to get obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine.

   Thomas the Tank Engine. First off, I have no idea what a tank engine is, besides the thing in the tank that powers the tank. Now it's just called Thomas, or Thomas and Friends, or, more accurately, Thomas the train that just looks side to side because he can't actually move his face at all!! There are roughly seven trillion episodes and movies on Netflix Instant, and Wyatt's Grandma has little wood train sets that he loves, so we've known that Thomas is coming. One day, when Wyatt kept saying "George George" over and over, we finally realized that he was trying to say "choo choo." (Yes, that's how it works. He says "George" if he wants to watch the antics of the curious monkey, he says "George George" if he wants to watch the trains, and he says "Geo-George" if he sees a dollar bill. Many of his sentences right now go like this: "Abba Dabba Dabba George." It is adorable. I'll try to get some video to show you later, but he changes when he sees, but I can't be getting off ... track).

I tried to find the least creepy picture I could, and I failed.

   A few months ago, Cara and I found an absolutely killer garage sale. They were basically selling an entire nursery, with lots of toddler stuff in brand-stinkin-new condition. Cara and I almost wished we'd needed new stuff, because, well, it was all so cheap. We bought as much as we could with the cash we had on hand, just so we could be prepared for when our friends are having showers for their babies, because nothing says "Congrats on having a baby!!" like "Here's a used pack-and-play we bought from strangers!!" BUT!!! Boy oh boy did they have Thomas stuff.

   You might not have a child under the age of 6, so you might not know that a single Thomas train can cost $13 new, sometimes on sale for $10. Thirteen!! Now, if we go ahead and get a Thomas (the cheeky one) James (he's vain but lots of fun), Percy (pulls the mail on time), Gordon (thunders down the line), Emily (really knows her stuff!), Henry (toots and huffs and puffs), Edward (wants to help and share) and Toby (well, let's say he's square), we're looking at $104, and that's just for the trains that appear in the song!! A set of tracks costs, oh I don't know, millions of dollars? The point is this: I'd never buy him all of this stuff (I'd throw him a birthday party and have you do it). I mean, if we're going to spend hundreds of dollars on toys, you can be sure that those toys are going to be for me.

   But this garage sale was ready and waiting for us:

 

That pink VW Bug is not part of it. You can tell because it lacks a creepy face, and doesn't have its name written somewhere on it.

This wasn't even all the Thomas stuff we bought!! Lots more track!!

   We are only using like half of our track here, and we aren't even showing four or five engines, because Wyatt is clutching those ones at all times. Look over at this next slide!!

All those creepy, terrifying faces. Smiling. Always smiling.

   So it's been established that all of this stuff could easily cost $300, right? I hope I've made that point clear. Now, I'm not one to haggle-and-tell, but I will say that when I walked away, that 10-year-old boy that wanted to sell his stuff so he could buy big-kid toys learned a valuable lesson about intimidation techniques when negotiating. That's really what I gave him: the gift of growing up and seeing the real world.

   We've only let Wyatt see and play with about three or four of these trains, and all the track. The rest of the engines are hidden in his room. We'll probably give him one for Christmas and one for his Birthday for the rest of his life. However - and I want this to go on the record right now - Wyatt will never, ever be aware that a certain purple dinosaur exists and wants to be his friend. Every time that creepy grin and odd voice hits the screen, I'ma say "George!!" and start making sounds like that curious monkey.

   I've learned so much about trains in the last month. Did you know that "shunting" isn't a bad word? Did you know that steamies are great steamies are fast, and that diesels are mean? Did you know that Sir Topham Hat is able to talk to trains!?

   You can tell that my life is super exciting because I just wrote like 5000 words about a creepy train show for toddlers, and am totally pumped about it!!

My mood: trained out!!
Wyatt's mood: george george
Listening to: "They're two they're four they're six they're eight"

Today, I Spell "Redemption" T-R-U-C-K

Look at the little guy, just hanging out, chillin, in the back of a truck. Like he was meant to be there all along.

   You remember the manlyvan, right? It was the nadir of my existence. When I from being a cool, independent, strong you man who could easily be believed to own a motorcycle, and turned into a guy with a car that his high school students point and laugh at. No, that actually happened once.

   Never again!! No more!! For I, Grant, have a truck.

Look! Hauling garbage cans AND strollers, just like any manly dad would. Which I am. Obvs.

   What kind of truck, you ask? Gosh, I don't know, I don't know stuff about trucks or cars or machines. It's a Chevy 1990-something 1500? Quad Cab? 12 Liters? Those are all things, right? The point is, look at that bed. As you can see, it's already being used to haul garbage, strollers, yard debris, probably some bear meat too... It would have gone hunting with me if I hadn't gotten incredibly, absurdly sick. Like, go-see-the-doctor, temperature-of-104.8 KDUK, nurse-literally-yells-"Holy crap!!"-when-she-sees-the-thermometer sick. I've taken three - three! - trips to the dump since getting this slab of iron on wheels. You can tell that I am a man who was in need of a truck.

   You might recall that I've taken the manlyvan to the dump. And was summarily judged by everyone there. Not this time!! Well, I was judged, but not for having a minivan. I was judged because A) my truck squeaks incessently (I think it has mice... that only squeak when the engine is running because they are all scared), and B) I only had $6 cash on me, and the dump costs $7, so I was the guy in the squeaky truck with a kid in the passenger seat trying to bum $1 off other people in line. This is still better than being judged for driving a minivan.

   Here's the most important part. Wyatt, also a man, loves trucks. Every time he sees it he says his word for "truck" which I cannot type here for fear of getting fired. When he's in the truck, driving, he's super happy. When he's in the back of the truck, playing, he's beyond super happy. Why did we ever get the manlyvan in the first place?

So much space!!

He sure loves that little flower pinwheel thing.

Remember when the sun was out? This was taken just a couple weeks ago...

   I, Grant, MAN, have a rusty beat up old pickup truck. The battery is about dead on it. It squeaks when it drives. The dome lights don't turn on. The back, driver's side window can't latch. It barely fits in my garage (we're talking about 4 inches of space). Much like Zoolander, it cannot turn left. One of those previous things is not true. I could not be happier.

   Yes I could. The Ducks could've beaten Stanford.

   My mood: proud to be king of the nerds

   Wy's mood: loves the adventures in the truck!!

   Listening to: that "Like a rock!!" song. You know the one.

An Ode To Keens

   Keens. These are the world's greatest shoes for a young walker. I haven't actually tried every shoe, but these are tough to beat. Let me tell you why:

• Go on super easy
• Stay on super well
• Protect the toes
• NO LACES
• Can get wet no problem
• No socks
• Super cute
• Little loopie things on the heels (those might seem like they are trivial, but pulling the heel of that shoe out as the foot goes in can be magical. Also, I felt like I needed more than seven things on the list)

   Cara found our first pair at a thrift store. Wyatt wore them for weeks, which is like years in baby time. Then we realized they were different sizes. After that, we scoured sales and thrift stores and garage sales and other people's closets when they weren't home. We have the pair you saw above, and are planning on buying every-other size for the rest of his life.

   They are literally the only shoes he has worn in the past 4 months. I don't even know if we have all the matching pairs with the rest of his shoes anymore.

   Now, let's make one thing clear: These shoes are not Chacos.

   

   Chacos are the world's best shoe, obvs. No self-respecting adult doesn't not wear any other shoe. One day he'll grow into his first pair, and, in a perfect world it would be his only pair. Because they are that great. They are the world's best shoe because:

• look at them
• no, seriously, have you seen them?
• and look at how little Wy's shoes are compared to mine?! What a cute little guy he is.
• Also, you'll note that I don't have a toe strap. This was a big decision on my part. I mean, when you get a pair of Chacos you are wearing them for life. Maybe not your whole life, but definitely the cool exciting parts of your life.
• I plan to die in these Chacos. I mean, like, seriously, I have planned my death and I will be wearing my Chacos. No, I'm not going to tell you the plan. Forget it.
• No! Really! Forget it!
• Okay I'll tell you this: flying squirrel suits.

• No. Wait, no. Not that. That's just an adorable kid's costume. In fact, I might get one of those. No, I am talking about the actual dudes that fly in those suits and aren't little girls:

• What is going on?!
• And where is her torso!?

• There. That's just a part of the plan. Not the whole thing, or even the exciting part, because that would be terrifying.
• Also I am obvs not wearing Chacos in this part of the plan.

   In conclusion, Keens are great for toddlers. In fact, I think they are my best piece of advice: If you have a toddler, you should get them Keens. (Do you remember my best baby advice? It was Netflix. I even updated my list of shows you should watch on there, because, when you have a baby you will be stuck in one position for hours, so make that position in front of a TV.)

My mood: dwelling on my mortality

Wyatt's mood: smells like sunscreen!!

Listening to: Jars of Clay

Camping At The Beach!!

   I'm on a never ending quest to make you think my life is exciting and glamorous. I've talked about spending a month in Montana, 4th of July at a lake house with terrifying kids, and a full day's worth of adventure. In fact, I haven't updated my blog in like a week to make you think "Wow he sure must be busy!! No time for blogging!"

   Now I'm going to share just the good parts and none of the bad parts about our camping trip to the beach!! I'm even going to call it "the beach" even though every Oregonian ever calls it "the coast" because "the beach" makes it sound like it is actually warm and fun and it never is.

   But we had a great time!! Wyatt absolutely adores sand and water. They are honestly his two favorite things besides his dad, the garbage-man, and ruining everything all the time. So while mom napped under a towel (nope! not kidding about that!), dad and Wyatt frolicked, laughed, splashed and dug. Look!!

Feeding dad sand

Feeding mom sand

A bucket of just-eaten sand

Sand!

   Once we'd had our fill of the beach (and we were there for hours), we decided to go make camp. Camping at a legitimate campsite is something pretty new to me. We rarely, if ever, did it when I was young. It was always out in the wilderness after a 92-hour drive, or a 92-hour hike. So, things like a picnic table, toilet, running water and fire pit with wood seem a little weak sauce to me. At least, they did. Now I'm all for the ease of car camping and the wimpyness that comes with being at a campground with like 400 other people and a park.

I chose to pack by literally throwing everything in the back of the manlyvan. Like, no suitcases or boxes or bags, just a bunch of stuff.

   Again, Wyatt just ran and played and refused to sleep.

   Cara, on the other hand, was all decked out in her 80's-action-film-extra, army-surplus, future-modeling-career outfit.

She's resting before the big tournament. And also a manlyvan features heavily in the plot.

   She had a training montage and a nemesis and everything!! We have some worse pictures of her than the one above, but I'd like to stay married so I am keeping them to myself. And some of my closest friends who have gmail accounts. And also I'll probably put them online in a few months anyways.

   Wyatt loves to camp. He likes exploring and being dirty and having other people tell him how adorable he is, which happens all the time. Like, seriously, too much. Back off people. The campground had a huge, fun playground, and he keeps on getting braver and braver, which simultaneously makes me more and more nervous. Watch where he ended up:

   Wow!! What a great video!! Of the whole 43 seconds, I bet you only felt like 41 of them were a complete waste of your time. But little Wyatt is just so special that you needed to see that.
   The best thing about camping, however, is how well he sleeps. He sleeps really well in tents, and on the ground. He also sleeps well on the couch, the carpet, on a single pillow, in his carseat or stroller, and after being heavily medicated. I don't even know why we put him in his bed anymore.

   That's all!! I'm off on another great adventure today and definitely not reorganizing the kitchen!!

My mood: organizey
Wy's mood: contented
Cara's mood: montagey
Listening to: Kings of Leon

Mother's Day 2013

   Wahoo!! Mothers are the best!! I think we can all agree that mothers are in fact the best. My baby Wyatt has a mom, her name is Cara and we spend all day telling her she's the best, even if it isn't Mother's Day (which, despite Cara's insistence, it turns out most days are not Mother's Day).

   So, I got Cara what any mother would want: Power Tools.

I guess I can't really call this "Power Tools" plural, when it's really Power Tool singular.

   That's right. It's the Ryobi 4-cycle gas engine string trimmer. It's even better than the Binford Gas Powered String Trimmer 2000 that was recently featured on Tool Time. The reason you can give your wife a power tool for Mother's Day is it's like saying "Here honey, I will do lots of yard work for a long time." Trust me, she'd like nothing better than for me to get her the attachment to my drill that lets me put recessed lighting in our ceiling. Well, that's not really true. She'd prefer it if I just paid someone to put lights in our living room and family room. And, over that she'd prefer a cruise somewhere. Let's not dwell on these things though because dad she got a gas powered weed whacker!
   Now I am ready to whack it up like crazy out in the yard.

Bike Wash!!

   Wyatt has been especially adorable lately. New haircut, cute clothes, speaking in gibberish and trying to do whatever I do. It's just the most precious thing! (Sometimes I feel especially maternal when writing things like this, so we are going to take a more butch tone moving forward).

   I wanted to take him for a bike ride today using our wonderful bike trailer (although if you're in the market for one, (you could start here). This would be the first time he was old enough to not have to ride in the bike trailer like this, but like a regular, well-adjusted kid. I pulled the trailer out of storage and saw that it had gotten a decent amount of mold, so I attacked it like a facebooker on gun control.

   I scrubbed and scrubbed and Wyatt watched very interested. I finished and went to grab the pump, turned around and saw this happening:

   The little dude grabbed my brush, dipped it in the soapy water and started scrubbing. Light, barely-touching-the-fabric scrubbing. I'd say it was super sweet, but I'm a man so I am going to say it was about time.

   If you'd like to see a minute and ten seconds of shaky-cam footage, be my guest:

   This trend has been picking up steam for a while now. We've put a new floor in our kitchen, and he loves to help with this process too. Here's some pictures to prove it:

How To Fix Your Ripped Jeans

   You've got that pair of jeans. We both know you do. What if something happened to that pair of jeans? What would you do?! You'd have to fix them, wouldn't you. Well, something happened to my pair of jeans. Um, twice. Something happened twice. I don't know what it was and let's not just assume I tore them due to baby weight, okay!? But every self-respecting housewife needs to know how to sew and repair, and I am certainly one of those so let's get cooking. Also, I can cook good.

   I almost wore these jeans to work one day. I mean, two days. Both times I was dressed and ready to go, and both times I reached for my wallet and got a handful of underwear in the process. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking either Where do you work that you can wear casual jeans?! or you're thinking How do you grab underwear when going for your wallet?? or you're thinking Wait what on earth happened to those poor things?! Great questions!!
   I'd like to make one thing very clear here: IT IS MY GOAL NOT TO USE DUCT TAPE AT ANY POINT IN THE RESTORATION PROCESS.

Favorite Toy!!

   Oh man. You've heard about the big party. What you didn't know was, before the party, we simultaneously made Wyatt very very happy and very very sad. I'll show you what I mean.

   We headed to Fletcher's to buy a baby shower present for a friend (Fletcher's is the local baby store in town). While there, Wyatt was fairly interested in all the toys and clothes and everything, but when he got his hands on this thing, there was no turning back:

   In fact, when we tried to turn back, this happened:

   It's only like a three second video, but it happened over and over and over. He cried on our way out of the store. He cried the whole drive home. He cried at home, then found his fire truck and tried to make due:

   Sure, it looks like it could work, but we ended up wit this, just a few moments later.

   We weren't sure what to do. It was obvious he really enjoyed the wooden lawnmower thing, and wanted more time with it. We weren't sure if we should get it for him, as it wasn't cheap and we don't really want to spoil the kid after all. The last thing you want is a kid who gets whatever he wants when he cries. That's why sometimes I don't even feed him or change his diapers. STOP CRYING FIRST!!
 
   As you saw from the party, though, he got lots of presents. Two of those presents were just like his lawnmower!! In fact, one of them was a lawnmower!!

   Okay, no more videos. Thanks for putting up with all that. If you look in the background, you can also see a walking popper as well. The lawnmower was from Cara's grandma (Wy's Great-grandmother), and the popcorn popper was from my mom and dad (Wy's grandma and grandpa). Wy loves them both dearly and plays with them all the time. It's fun for me to mow the lawn while he's on the deck mowing the lawn. Thanks everyone!!

   Sometimes people think that having toys that make a lot of noise are going to be really annoying. I'm sure at some point they will be, but right now, I would much rather have a happy baby playing with a toy that clicks a lot, than have a baby who is fussy and wants my attention. Leave me alone! Also, it's great being able to hear where he is in the house, so that I can feel like I am watching him while I am watching 30 Rock reruns.

My mood: Go ducks!

Wyatt's mood: new toys!!

Listening to: Neon Trees

Perfectly Legal Adventures

   We have a few heavy duty pieces of baby gear. Beyond just a crib and a Pack N Play and a manlyvan. No, I'm talking about the jogging stroller and the bike trailer.

   The jogging stroller is perfect for the active parent on the go. It turns quick, rolls away from you so you have to chase it, and can carry your mail! Wyatt and I go for runs probably nine times a week, and I can almost make it around the whole block now. Talk about some serious equipment.

But, it pales in comparison to the almighty bike trailer.

So... here's the thing about bike trailers and babies. Um, there's a big gray area, we'll call it. In the great state of Oregon (easily one of the top five states touching the Pacific Ocean, which is easily the best ocean), no one under the age of 16 can ride a bike without a helmet. This includes kids in bike trailers or in a bike basket or whatever.

BUT! Babies under the age of two (it doesn't apply to just babies - anyone under the age of two) can't wear a helmet. At least, that is what we've been told or heard. It's sort of like the "do you need a lifejacket if you are floating in a personal innertube" law that no one is really clear on and no one ever actually tries to look into. So he's too young to ride without a helmet, but also too young to wear a helmet. Hmm.

I think I've worked out a solution to the problem, however:

Gettin' Stuff Done

   Guess what Cara!? I just got like seventeen things done while you were at work! How much stuff do you get done while I'm at work otherwise engaged? What's that you say? You do the laundry? Three loads today. Huh? You take care of the baby? Fed him four different times. Oh, you clean the kitchen? No you don't. Ever.
   I guess that having a job that earns you all that fancy "money" takes up too much of your precious time to let you do your wife duties. That's fine. I'm the modern man. The modern man does his wife's job AND his own job, which involves not actually having a job. The modern man can look good and play hard. The modern man eats healthy. The modern man drives a minivan a manlyvan.

   Bang. Daddy gets stuff done. We wanted a freezer to put in the garage. We found one. I loaded it in the manlyvan, drove it home, unloaded it, and then bench pressed for an hour because I was so amped.

   We had a bunch of crappers and other crap to get rid of, so I threw it in the manlyvan, went to the dump and dumped the dump buckets. Was the manlyvan up for it? You bet your bottom dollar it was. Did I forget to mention that the modern man quotes Annie? He does, if he wants to, because the modern man doesn't care.

Two toilets, one ceiling fan, five shelves, two shower sliding doors, no mercy.

   Yeah, that's right. The dump. I'm not afraid. Me and a whole bunch of crusty old farts and their crusty old trucks, each of them looking at me thinking What a modern man you are in your manlyvan. I can tell just by looking at you that I should be calling your car a "manlyvan" because "minivan" is just insulting.

Nice trucks everyone. I bet the whole soccer team fits in real comfortably.

   Guess what. It gets cold in the winter. Not so cold that it bothers me, but my wife and baby need some warmth, so I bought some pellets for our pellet stove. Guess how I got them from point A to point My House. I got them there with a truck and a trailer a few months ago, and then I went back and got some more today IN MY MANLYVAN. I had the workers load it and drove it home and unloaded it. That's right. Me and my bare hands have moved over 3000 pounds of wood. What have you done recently?

Fine, you caught me. I forgot to take a picture of the pellets in the manlyvan, but I did use it to haul some of those bags. Also, I couldn't find my camera so this picture quality is even lower than my usually-shoddy pics up here. Also, look at how cute that lamp shade is on top of the shelves!!!!

   I needed to get some stuff from the home improvement store. I took the baby. On my way out of the home improvement store, the workers carried my stuff for me and loaded it into the manlyvan for me. Because that's what men do for other men who are clearly men and not just stay at home dads.

   Done.

   Modern Man.
 
   Me.

   I'll leave you with this thought: Just look at how cute my baby is!!! Don't you just want to eat his cheeks!? Do you think his cheeks will always be so soft and smooth and squishy!? Gaaahhh I love him so much!

   I mean, is he meditating? Is that what he does when we go for walks? Wow, what a kid.

My mood: all business
Wyatt's mood: just stay out of daddy's way
Listening to: the freaking Legend of Zelda soundtrack.

Parental Savior!!

   Oh man oh man oh man. I was taking Wy for a walk when we came across a garage sale. Like all good garage sales, this one had a "free" box, which basically means it's full of garbage they're hoping we'll grab out of pity. You know, it always has things like a single Reebok shoe, a few chewed up dog toys, and a VHS copy of She's All That or Goodburger or something.
   So, like I always do, I thumbed through the box of rejections. Then I came across the book I have been waiting for since, I dunno, maybe my whole life?!

   The heavens opened and I saw it. 101 Ways to be a Special Mom, by none other than Vicki Freaking Lansky. This is what I've needed. I feel like, at best, I've been a mundane, ordinary, not-at-all-special parent. I mean, I certainly haven't done anything super special to differentiate myself from all of those other parents out there, but with this book I knew I had the key, an advantage no one else had because they hadn't read this book.
   Before I even cracked it open, I had all kinds of questions: One hundred and one ways!! It's amazing there's that many, and that it lands on that perfect amount! I wonder if she had to cut some out to get such a cool number? Is there any possible way this could apply to dads too?! Are these things I would naturally do, or does this stuff only come natural to moms?! Is anything going to be kind of creepy?!

Safely Sleeping!!

   I've done it! I've invented a revolution in baby sleepification and safety!!

   (Look at how the cute little guy just sleeps in his stroller. Do you see that bottle of pills blending in with his onesie? He grabbed it off the counter a few days ago while I was holding him, and has held on to it as his rattle ever since. It has like four ibuprofen pills in it. Also, did you know his mom is a pharmacist?! Also! Look at how big he's getting!!)

   Like most babies, I assume, Wyatt falls asleep in carseats and strollers and things that strap him in. I'm sure he feels safe and secure, like when he was in the womb, only less wet. Well, I would always wake him up when I'd move him from the stroller or carseat to his queen sized bed crib! It was just the worst!!

   So I came up with a solution:

Baby in the carseat in the crib.

   This is the best of all worlds!! The baby is safe, secure, comfortable, and in his crib. If we were to have to hurry and get in the car, he'd be ready to go! And I try to leave the carseat's handle up to act as a roll bar. Boom.

   And yes, this does make me a fantastic father. For all time. No matter what happens from here on out, I can rest assured, knowing that I am a good dad, because I found a way for my little one to be safe from cars AT ALL TIMES.

My mood: satisfied and excited!!
Wyatt's mood: safe and sleepy!!
Listening to: The Killers

(sidenote: what on earth do you think the womb is like? Nevermind, I don't want to know what you think. I'll just tell you what I think. I think it's warm and moist and dark and cramped, so it pretty much involves the worst combination of words possible.)

A Disconcerting Trend

   My parents got us a wonderful screw-on high chair for our baby shower. It's been a fantastic piece of equipment, because it attaches to any surface with some sort of lip (like a table or most countertops), and can travel to restaurants, other people's houses, and on vacation and such.

   As you can see, it gets very messy. Wyatt likes to try and eat the high chair while eating food. The cloth comes off, so you can easily wash it ten to fifteen times per day! And you'll probably have to!

   But lately, little baby Wyatt has started to make us pretty nervous.

Crawl to the knife, Wyatt! Or... gosh, are those giant hedge trimmers in the background?

   That's right. Little baby Wallet, who can walk on his own now, likes to stand up and crawl out of his chair. It's terrifying!! Sometimes he just crawls on the counter, which is... okay... but sometimes he leans over the edge!! Gah!
   The chair even comes with little belts to strap him in, but he squirms out of them. I can just see the headline now: Irresponsible, Awful Father Let's Baby Fall On Head While Playing Tetris. Mother Could Have Done Better.

   Now let's get one thing straight: I think that's a bed headline, because it is not clear which of us was playing Tetris. If Wyatt could play that wonderful little game successfully, then I think that's a bigger deal than him falling off a high-chair! Now let's get a second thing straight: Yeah, I get it. Wyatt only really needs a mother at this point in his life. She's the one that he cries for and she's the one that they synchronized their periods with while he was in the womb, or whatever, but I am doing just fine!

   For example, I am the one that put that adorable little bib on him in the first place, and I am the one that paused to take a picture of him standing precariously in his clip-on high chair. So I think it's clear that I know what I am doing, and don't need any innate sense or some sort of biological something to get through a day with a ten month old.

We tend to dress alike - because that's adorable

My mood: scared!!
Wyatt's mood: fearless!!
Listening to: Kenny G