Posted: December 19th, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Coping, Toddlers | No Comments »
I didn’t go through a fear of monsters as a boy. I slept with a night light, the hall light on and the door open, but really, I was fine.
When Grace was just about three, she started talking about monsters and a general fear of the dark at bedtime. Being a clever nerd, I decided that I could override the irrational fears of a toddler. I set to work.
One night after stories and lullabies, she offered, “But there are no monsters in here.”
“Monsters,” I said. “You like monsters! Who are the monsters you know?”
I didn’t go through a fear of monsters as a boy. I slept with a night light, the hall light on and the door open, but really, I was fine.
When Grace was just about three, she started talking about monsters and a general fear of the dark at bedtime. Being a clever nerd, I decided that I could override the irrational fears of a toddler. I set to work.
One night after stories and lullabies, she offered, “But there are no monsters in here.”
“Monsters,” I said. “You like monsters! Who are the monsters you know?”
She stared at me as if I had grown a second and third head of my own. “Elmo is a monster. He’s funny. Telly Monster is nice. Don’t forget Cookie Monster.”
She wrinkled her little nose. “Zöe,” she said.
“Right, Zöe!” I said. “Zöe is a ballet monster! Did you know monsters like ballet?”
She laughed, and that was it. No more complaints about monsters. I marched out of that room as if I were about to take the center podium at the Olympic Games. Super Dad, right here. Everyone gaze upon me and know that I am The Man.
So, two weeks ago, when nearly-three-year-old William started with the monster routine, I was ready. “Step aside,” I thought, “and let The Master do his thing.”
Fail.
“Waaaahh! I want Da-deeeeee!”
I went into his room. “What’s the matter, William?”
“I don’t like the dark.”
“Oh, but you’ve got your night light, your friends.** See?” I turned the light on, then off. “The same friends, just in the dark.” I turned the light back on and pointed to the wall. “See your pictures?” (His walls are covered with mini posters of The Boston Red Sox.) I turned the light back off. “The same in the dark.”
I could tell he wasn’t buying it, so I sang another song and he settled down.
The next night brought same thing. “But that monster is going to get me,” he said. This continued for almost a week, and then I broke down. My Super Dad Powers were gone. Just like that. I traded in my cape and mask.
I went downstairs and grabbed the seashell night light we bought while on vacation. (It had been living in the bathroom.) Back in his room, I plugged it into the socket right next to his crib. “That’s my Florida light!” he said, and proceeded to hold each of his friends up in turn so that they could “see” it. He changed his orientation in the crib so that he could stare at it while lying there. I closed the door and he went to sleep.
That was about a week ago, and he hasn’t had a disruptive night since. My powers failed, but at least my boy is sleeping. With his Florida light. And his friends. And the hall light on.
Welcome to the club, kid.
*Apologies to Rod Serling
I didn’t go through a fear of monsters as a boy. I slept with a night light, the hall light on and the door open, but really, I was fine.
When Grace was just about three, she started talking about monsters and a general fear of the dark at bedtime. Being a clever nerd, I decided that I could override the irrational fears of a toddler. I set to work.
One night after stories and lullabies, she offered, “But there are no monsters in here.”
“Monsters,” I said. “You like monsters! Who are the monsters you know?”
I didn’t go through a fear of monsters as a boy. I slept with a night light, the hall light on and the door open, but really, I was fine.
When Grace was just about three, she started talking about monsters and a general fear of the dark at bedtime. Being a clever nerd, I decided that I could override the irrational fears of a toddler. I set to work.
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Posted: December 17th, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Toy of the week | Tags: iconfactory, iphone, ipod, ipod touch, parenting, pickin time, toys | No Comments »
Toy of the week
You spent a few hundred dollars on an iPhone or an iPod touch. Then you find yourself in the mall with jr., pushing the obnoxious red stroller you rented for $5. Jr. has that look on his face. The look that says he’s about to go Chernobyl. Do you hand over the iPhone? Well, what’s worse — a scratch on your precious or a red-faced meltdown in the middle of Baby Gap? Exactly.
Of course, you don’t want them checking out the SI Swimsuit App, so grab something appropriate from The App Store. One of the best is The Iconfactory’s Pickin’ Time.
Forget that Pickin’ Time’s graphics are gorgeous. Forget that it takes seconds to learn or that the down-home music stays with you all day. None of that matters if the kids dislike it. Fortunately, kids love Pickin’ Time.
At launch, a friendly rabbit family waves hello and prompts your kid to choose between single player or multiplayer mode. In single player mode, he’s shown a piece of fruit or vegetable. Once play begins, the rabbit tosses a bunch of produce into the air. Jr.’s job is touch his target item. As he moves along, the number of items increases and the background color changes (tricky when it’s the same color as the target). The clock ticks away and at the end he’ll see how many he’s gathered (hint: flip the iPhone/iPod around at the end).
In multi-player mode, each player (up to 4) selects a piece of fruit or a veggie. The rabbit tosses them up in random order, and the object is to be quick enough to tap your item.
It’s a bit memory, a bit beat-the-clock and a whole lot of reaction time. The best part is Pickin’ Time isn’t a game with a definite end. Sure, a session ends, but you can always restart with another target item and try to beat your best score.
In Daddy Daze’s Official Toddler Testing, Pickin’ Time is a winner. The kids get excited, laugh and have fun, which gives me a few minutes of peace in the grocery store. Spend $1.99 for a toy that does all that? You better believe it.
You spent a couple hundred dollars on an iPhone or an iPod touch. Then you find yourself in the mall with Jr., pushing the obnoxious rental stroller. He’s got the look on his face that says he’s about to go Chernobyl. Do you hand over the iPhone? Well, what’s worse — a scratch on your precious or a red-faced meltdown in the middle of Baby Gap? Exactly.
Of course, you don’t want Jr. checking out the SI Swimsuit App [App Store link], so launch something appropriate. One of the best is The Iconfactory’s Pickin’ Time.
Forget that Pickin’ Time’s graphics are gorgeous. Forget that it takes seconds to learn or that the down-home music stays with you all day. None of that matters if the kids dislike it. Fortunately, kids love Pickin’ Time.
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Posted: December 17th, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Coping | No Comments »
I woke up suddenly. Blinking my eyes, I reached for my alarm clock and turned it towards my face. It said 1:24. I sat up, and then put my feet on the floor. The house was quiet.
Through the window I could see the black silhouettes of our trees against the navy blue sky. I could also see the turtle-shaped sandbox, a soccer ball, the bulky, plastic sliding board and the tool shed which holds more toys, a lawn mower, several cans of paint and, I suspect, a family of mice.
Everything was in order, yet I felt a tremendously worried. I picked up an old, grey T-shirt that was hanging over the rocking chair. Several years ago, the shirt bore the logo of the bar my wife and I visited before we were married. I wore it as often as possible.
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Posted: September 30th, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Featured | Tags: Fatherhood, parenthood, parenting | No Comments »
“David, we’re late,” my mother says, stuffing me into cold weather clothes. Before I can reply she’s whirling around the kitchen grabbing lunchboxes, backpacks and her own coat and hat with the dexterity of a quick-change artist. She opens the door and the cold air hits us like a board.
“Into the Embarras-mobile,” she says. “Go.”
The Embarras-mobile was an ocean blue Ford Galaxy 500 with no hubcaps, fist-sized rust holes and discolored patches of unsanded Bond-O. It was huge — with a hood like a helipad and bench seats half a mile long.
I climb in. The windshield is covered by a thin sheet of ice. My mother cranks the defroster and peers through a shoebox-sized hole in the frost.
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Posted: September 24th, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Featured, Toddlers | Tags: halloween, kids, parenthood, parenting, peanut allergy, trick-or-treat | 3 Comments »
Next month is October, and that means Halloween, one of my favorite holidays. When I was young, my aunt decorated her house like the set of a Vincent Price movie. She wore an elaborate witch costume and greeted kids in character, cackling and over-acting. I don’t know what was more fun: anticipating how she’d outdo the previous year or watching the unsuspecting kids poop themselves when she threw open the door.
When I say she gave out candy, I mean the good stuff. No “Fun Size” candy bars, no generic gum, no popcorn balls and no freaking apples. I’m talking about the full-sized Snickers and Bazooka Joe. Primo.
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Posted: September 22nd, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Toddlers | Tags: babies, children, daddy blog, Fatherhood, kids, parenthood, parenting, Toddlers | No Comments »
The following is a throwback post from my days blogging for Parenting Magazine, re-published here for posterity’s sake. And because it’s funny.
The kids have invented a game called The Door Game. It goes like this:
Grace goes into her bedroom and closes the door while William stands in the hall on the opposite side. Then Grace throws the door open. William laughs hysterically and then pulls it shut, which causes Gracie to laugh hysterically. She then throws the door open again just as William runs out of the way.
The game usually ends with purple fingers and/or tender feet that have been bashed by the door. Despite these deterrents, as well as my own stern-voiced requests to end The Door Game once and for all, they continue to play.
Hanging from the doorknob is a pitiful rabbit holding what is essentially an arch of piano wire over its head like a mafia hitman. Since William can’t reach the doorknob, he uses the rabbit to shut the door. Being a highly intelligent problem-solver, I deduced that removing the rabbit would end The Door Game.
I slipped it off of the doorknob.
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Posted: September 21st, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Coping, School, Toddlers | Tags: daddy blog, Fatherhood, kids, parenthood, parenting, preschool, School, tips | 4 Comments »
Earlier this week, I brought two quarters to the bank and asked the teller to exchange them for a half dollar. I took the coin and walked back to the car, remembering when I was just 4 years old.
I have scattered memories from preschool, like the little hut with grapes and vines on the ceiling. I also remember napping on a braided rug and the musty smell of it. One time we made some sort of potato concoction on a hotplate like a college student would use. My friend Peter and I cowed those things down while sitting crossed-legged on carpet squares. I also remember the stone-floored lobby. But mostly I remember crying.
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Posted: September 20th, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Fatherhood | No Comments »
Last weekend I visited friends who are pregnant with their first. It was fun to hear the excitement and anticipation in their voices. Though I must admit, I had to stifle laughter when dad-to-be said, “I’m not worried about it at all. I mean, my life’s not going to change….”
You just keep telling yourself that.
Amid stories about Babies R Us and some really good pizza, I started to think about all of the “baby things” that my kids don’t do anymore. While I don’t miss changing diapers at 3:00 in the morning, there are several things I do miss. They should tell me, “Dad, this is the last time I’m going to do this. Pay attention, because this is it. Ready?”
Here’s my list of five things I miss about babyhood.
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Posted: September 20th, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Coping, Featured, Sports | Tags: family, Fatherhood, kids, parenthood, soccer | 4 Comments »
I’m the parent of that kid.
Do you know the kid who stares at his feet while everyone else sings at story hour? The one who won’t sit on Santa’s lap or acknowledge a seldom-seen relative? Do you know that kid? That one puttering in the sandbox while the other kids enjoy the bouncy castle? I know that kid.
He’s my son. And he wants to play soccer.
He doesn’t have the eye of the tiger. More like the cheekbones of a meerkat. So when #8 slipped into his jersey and doll-sized shin guards, dad was nervous.
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