Posted: September 15th, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Toddlers | Tags: daddy blog, Fatherhood, kids, parenthood, parents, Toddlers | 1 Comment »
The following is a throwback post from my days blogging for Parenting Magazine, re-published here for posterity’s sake.
Earlier today, I was playing “Pretty, Pretty Princess” on the floor with Gracie (I was TOTALLY winning. I had two earrings, a necklace and a ring. She only had two necklaces) when William walked into the room, chewing.
“What is William eating?” I called.
“He’s eating something?” my wife answered from another room.
“Yeah,” I said. “He just walked in here chewing.”
“What does he have?”
“Don’t know,” I said, inspecting his empty mouth. “It’s gone now.”
No worries. It was just what we’ve come to call Floor d’Oeuvres.
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Posted: September 14th, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Coping | Tags: daddy blog, kids, parenthood, parenting, parents | No Comments »
Kitchen or kids?
It’s the proposition that follows dinner in our house. It basically means, “Do you want to clean up the post-dinner mess or kick-start the kids’ PM routine?” Don’t jump too quickly. There is no easy answer.
Answering “kitchen” could mean scrubbing a mountain of dishes and/or pots and pans, plus cutlery, the counter tops, the table and so on. With some luck, the dishwasher will actually be empty (a rarity), the trash can won’t be overflowing (hasn’t happened yet) and the evening’s “chef” would have tidied up while cooking (a bona-fide miracle).
Selecting “kids” is even riskier.
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Posted: September 14th, 2009 | Author: Dave | Filed under: Coping | Tags: daddy blog, Fatherhood, kids, parenting, parents | No Comments »
I like to think that I have a handle on the 3-year-old language. “Doesn’t your three-year-old speak English?” you ask. Well yes, but she uses the toddler dialect. Here’s an example.
Earlier today, we were at the grocery store picking up diapers and milk. On the way home, Grace announced that she wants to play with “…that toy” when we got home. “Which toy is that?” I ask her. “That toy you put on your knee,” she answered.
My mind set to work on the problem. “Grace,” I said, “What is the toy that you put on your knee?” “You know that toy,” she said, laughing dismissively at what must have been a joke.
“Oh, no, I sure don’t,” I thought.
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