An indicator of things to come?
February 4th, 2009 by Damian
At four weeks, Zach was in the 20th percentile of weight. At one month, Samantha is in the 85th. I can’t help but sense some sort of rivalry here.
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Minor, sleep-deprived update
February 1st, 2009 by Damian
There have been not many updates here because of the following two factors working in conjunction with each other:
- Samantha doesn’t like to sleep for more than a few hours a night, and
- Zach thinks that getting up after 6am is a ridiculous proposition.
So the routine while I’ve been on leave has been for me to blearily entertain the three-year-old while Sarah gets another three or four hours’ sleep; once Sarah has been rested- and freshened-up I stare numbly at my computer for an hour while sipping coffee: works well.
But – I go back to work on Monday, and we’ll have to adjust to a normal working lifestyle. I’ll toddle off to the gym (stop laughing) at 6am, and Sarah will have to deal with the ensuing mayhem and chaos. She gets a reprieve during Zach’s kindergarten sessions and with-Gran days and weekends, though, so with good luck and a fair wind it will all work out.
On a lighter note, I called Zach a menace today, as he’d cannoned into me; he also received a stern tickling. However, he didn’t like that moniker, and insisted that he was a ‘menace rocket’ instead. I consider this to be a wonderfully apt nickname, so we’ll see if we can make it stick.
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Greetings from the land of nursery rhymes
December 20th, 2008 by Damian
(it is important to note that this exchange has no context whatsoever)
Me: “Hello, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”
Zach: “Hello, Old King.”
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My son, the conversationalist
November 19th, 2008 by Damian
“GO AWAY, Daddy! Go away! Go awaAAAaaay… What underpants you got on?”
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I reject your bourgeois numeracy and substitute my own
November 13th, 2008 by Damian
Our little boy eats somewhat like a sparrow; a sparrow that loves lollies and has no concept of meal times. He (very politely) asked for a treat before dinner and was told that he could count out four lollies for him to have after dinner.
I noticed, after he had had his traditional five bites of food and left the table, that he had put three black jelly beans and two blue jelly beans into his dessert bowl. “Zach,” I called, “would you count to four for me please?”
The reply was rapid and emphatic. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, FOUR!” he chirped. I showed him the bowl and invited him to try again, which he did. “One, two, three, FOUR!” he declared as he checked them off, completely skipping the centre bean.
We did eventually get him to count to four, and rather quickly too as it turned out. He stuffed them in his mouth one after the other and managed to sound out the numbers around the mouthful.
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Better late than never
November 10th, 2008 by Damian
Zach: “Why you got a bigger lunch?”
Mummy: “I’ve got a bigger tummy, darling.”
Zach: “My got a little tummy. My got little bosoms, too.”
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Slackness
October 17th, 2008 by Damian
Yes, there’ve been no updates. Sorry. Have a little story instead.
Zach is currently sitting in the car while Sarah comes back inside. He had pointed at the roof of the car and asked “what’s that hook for?” Upon being told that it was a coat hook, he declared that he wanted a coat to hang on it, and wasn’t taking no for an answer. She’s just taken the coat back out again. Sigh.
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Making Daddy proud
August 31st, 2008 by Damian
(while in the shower with his mother)
“Mummy got no penis. My got penis. Daddy got BIG penis!”
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And now a story about Sarah
August 31st, 2008 by Damian
We have a fireplace. Things are put by the fireplace to be burned. There is a small pile of newspapers and other such junk mail there.
The other day, Sarah was madly fussing around because she couldn’t find an article that had appeared in the local newspaper. She berated me because it turned out that I had burned the newspaper, after it had been put – by her – in the by-the-fireplace-to-be-burned pile.
She maintains that it was a safe and logical place to keep it, because – and, again, I am not making this up – “you don’t use that pile when you make fires. I knew it was there and I wouldn’t have burned it.”
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General update
August 31st, 2008 by Damian
So, August is here (and almost gone again). Since I’ve been unutterably slack at providing updates, I thought I’d assemble all my notes into a semi-coherent list of bullet points.
- We were down at the library the other day, and ended up walking back to the car with various handfuls of things. Zach didn’t want to get in his car seat initially, so I put him… on the roof. It made sense at the time, all right? He sat there nicely, perfectly happy – until it was time to get him down again. You see, he happened to be on the other side of the car from his seat, and going through the car to get there wasn’t an option. And so it came to pass that the onlookers saw a two-year-old boy walking across a car roof to his long-suffering mother.
- As a car-related aside, he is taking after his mother more and more each day. He was urging me to go faster on the main road, but became quiet after I pointed out that there were cars in front of us. Once we turned down a side road, he leaned forward, pointed, and quietly said “cars gone, daddy – go faster!”
- Ways to make Zach laugh uproariously, part seven of many: stand on one leg after bathtime and say “Daddy’s a flamingo!” Once he’s finished laughing, he’ll mimic you and say “my a mingo too!”
- With the rising gas and food prices, we have had to cut back the household bath toy budget. To this end, Zach now enjoys having an (unused, I promise) toilet plunger with him in the bath. He uses it as a cup-with-a-stalk, and occasionally turns it into an umbrella while he brushes his teeth, and then dances around like Charlie bloody Chaplin. I am not making this up.
- Anyone who has been near our little man for the last few months will be oh-so-familiar with the phrase “you doing?” It can often be repeated several hundred times a day, rapid-fire, with no letup, and certainly without letting trifles like whether you’ve ALREADY TOLD HIM what you’re doing get in the way. He has recently branched out a little, and we now enjoy modulations of this, including “Mummy, you doing? Daddy, you doing? My just do?” Occasionally he gets confused and just sticks with “my doing?”
- A ha-ha-hilarious postscript to that particular phrase’s evolution is this: we have continually said “stop asking me that” when peppered with you-doings. He has now cheerfully adopted this and uses it whenever we ask him to do a chore or other unattractive task. Quite the little diplomat.
- The ever-present battle to try to get him to eat his dinner continues. The other day he stood playing at his play-dough table, and I asked him if he’d like some more chips. The response: “no, my not hear you.”
- Because of this poor dinner-time behaviour, we have to gauge his fullness, or lack thereof. This gives rise to the pressure test, where we poke his belly. He loves it, I assure you. He was quite firm and full the other night, and I asked him why, expecting a response about the nice meal. Oh, no. That would be too easy. What did he say? “There’s a BABY in it! A BABY got in my tummy!”
- He is continuing his nightly dances on his bed, often giving orders out to his audience while madly bouncing and gyrating: “OK, peoples, now do like this! Music on now! La la la la LA!”
- “What my am?” (dances madly, we give various incorrect guesses) “My an OCTOPUS!” Oh.
- After a midday sleep post a 6am wakeup: “My not tired any more. My put my tired away. In my mouth!”
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