His daddy goes to "work" and does "stuff"

Sam's driveway art is growing more complex. The other night he made something he called a laboratory, pointing out the desk and other things.

You'd think I'd be proud. But despite visiting the laser lab several times, he was surprised to learn that I work in a laboratory. Sara D, friend and babysitter extraordinaire, what kind enough to relate the following Sam exchange:

Sara: Does your dad work at a laboratory?
Sam: No, my daddy goes to a building called work every day and does stuff there.

Apparently he's learned what they are through Spiderman and Batman cartoons. Which I guess makes me evil?

Sara also related the following quote:

Mommies and daddies don't eat cookies. They are parents. Parents don't like cookies. Really truly!

Guess we'll have to prove to him we do like them by eating some in front of him and not making faces. This is a challenge I am willing to undertake.

Sandbox v2.0

Another milestone at the new house: A new sandbox! 6'x6', currently with 1,000 lbs. of sand, though I plan to add at least another 600. A 50-lb. bag is something like half a cubic foot--not that much.

Sam was patient while I built it, and ecstatic diving around in it when finished. And he got to see his dad wearing goofy safety glasses! Always a bonus.

While I worked on the sandbox Sam played with a caterpillar I found on the apple tree. They are shown here, prior to the caterpillar's tragic squishing. Susan and I both frowned and told him not to squish little things. Well, except I am find with killing spiders, and definitely kill all the ants you find, in whatever devious Dr. No fashion you want. Now that I think of it, maybe it's complex conveying which bugs are marked for death and which aren't...

One last thing: I've learned from the past. The new sandbox has two cupholders so you can play with Sam in comfort, your favorite libation close at hand. :-)

Visit from Ruth & Katie

Sam's aunt Ruth and cousin Katie flew out last weekend for a too-short five-day visit. High points: An almost uncountable number of visits to the mall; dinner at Chang's, where Sam
was enthralled with wiki-sticks; Aunt Ruth played "wrong or right" with Sam; Katie and Ruth FINISHED THE PORTHOLES IN SAM'S ROOM!; Aunt Ruth made CURTAINS for Sam's room!; and many other things. Ruth and Katie, it was so good seeing you! Below are several photos from that visit.

A few items since the:

• Sam's gotten heavily into sidewalk chalk on the driveway. In particular, he's become obsessed with drawing convoluted paths he calls mazes. And there's a new variant: Berry mazes. These are paths with berries every so often for those traversing the path to eat. (Path followers include so far two dinosaurs, a giraffe, a scary giant prehistory spider and a hungry bear.)

• We have Aunt Ruth to thank for Sam's unusual complaint the other day, "Mommy, my instep is hurting!"

• At church the Sunday before last Sam was squirming, so I whispered to him that the pastor was praying. Sam looked confused and whispered back, "This isn't how we talk to God!" Honestly, we do pray with him, and he has been in church before.

• Actually, he has been thinking about religious questions. For instance, he asked Susan the other day if Spiderman was on the cross. Um. No. Why? I think he got a little confused because I was showing him a Batman episode where Batman goes undercover in a homeless shelter to find where some bums are being abducted to. And during this episode Batman has a dream where he weeps for all the people he wants to save but cant. It seemed like a teachable moment, so I talked about that attitude, and parallels to Jesus. But that may have been a little above his head...

• Sams love of knock-knock jokes continues unabated. His version of the classic taught him by Aunt Ruth: Knock knock. Whos there? Duane, save me, I'm drowning in the bathtub!

• After a recent time out, Susan said to Susan, "I'm thinking of hitting you but I'm not going to hit you." She was a little conflicted by this. Good! You are not hitting me! But why is this even an issue?

More later...

Memorial Day fun

Took Sam to the zoo last weekend and had a lot of fun. He really gets more and more out of it the older he his. He even sat, rapt, for the sea-lion show, mere feet from the trainer doing the feeding.

While watching the baboons (I called them moneys at first, and Sam corrected me), a fellow dad told a story. Last time he was there, a bird flew into the netted-in enclosure. A baboon leapt out and grabbed it in mid-air, biting its head off. Universally the mothers present gasped in horror, and the dads oohed and aahed in admiration.
















It being Memorial-Day weekend, we planted some flowers. Sam actually helped a little, turning over the old soil before we put down some new soil. He's also been happy to help water the plants.

This weekend it was breezy enough that I tried taking Sam out to fly a kite for the first time. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite windy enough, and the kite would only stay aloft if I rant full tilt through the "meadow" (as Sam called it). We will be waiting for even breezier days to take it out again.

By the way, in the picture of Sam and Susan below, Sam isn't trying to mime "loser" by making an L with his left hand.

No other real news. Had a fun time all around, and got a lot done. It's much easier to do things as Sam gets older and is more able to putter. And when he gets bored, Susan loves to send him off on secret-agent missions, such as running around the house, ending up on the porch, where he is to write his name.

* * *

A few quotes you might enjoy:

"I want you to wake me up!"

Sam, from his bedroom, at the end of his nap this afternoon.

"Bad snakes give you squeezing hugs but the good snakes don't."

He reassures Max each morning while driving through the "jungle"--a wooded road--that there aren't any scary monsters or animals. This morning he said there were both polar bears and normal bears, and wanted to know what made polar bears polar. He also said that cougars protect people from bullies. He's thought a lot about bullies lately because one older kid in school has been bothering him.

"I wish everything was chocolate."

Who doesn't?

"Mommy, you showered!"

After hugging Susan this last weekend. No, it's not unusual for Susan to shower! Sam just usually isn't in a position to smell her newly shampooed hair.

Training Wheels

Last weekend Susan got Sam a bike from Good Will. $7! And it seems reasonably nice, too, as if the previous owner simply grew out of it. This weekend I added training wheels and oiled the chain, and got Sam a new helmet from Target--and we were off! Truth be told, Sam's really not that interested in it. It was fun for ten minutes with Dad pushing him around, but pedaling is enough work for him that, well, he's not quite there yet.

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Yesterday Sam and I had a guys' night together. After a dinner of frozen pizza we went to a park with a fun, diverse playground. It's only 7 minutes away, in East Rochester, but it feels like a different world--the houses are older, the grass not manicured, and the adjacent high school a little run down. But the park is large and fun to visit. We explored that, racing one another, running around a gazebo, and trying to catch raindrops on our tongues when it started to sprinkle on the back to the car.

On the way home Sam said, out of the blue, "How did Mary know Jesus was in the tomb?" Truly, out of the blue--if we talked about the tomb, it's not been since Easter. It's truly amazing how his little mind remembers things and processes them. Anyway, I told him that her friend Joe (of Arimathea), who put Jesus in his tomb, probably told her, and he seemed satisfied.

Yesterday I also sewed some new velcro onto one of his sneakers. Which isn't particular noteworthy except that Sam was very excited to watch me do it, and to participate (I let him pick out the thead color, and then, when he wasn't looking, swapped it for more durable nylon thread). It's a reminder of how much is new when you are three.5.

Tonight he watched Dumbo for the first time, and also for the first time had unhealthy microwave popcorn. Woohoo!

Finally, Susan and I worked on organizing the garage while Sam puttered around in the driveway and front yard--hence the red-ball photo. He flitted with T-ball set, sidewalk chalk, red ball, trowel & soil, and even played with a large garbage bag, spinning around and excitedly filling it with the wind. (Sort of a kite without string.)

Life isn't perfect. He had various time-outs as he explored where his autonomy met ours. Even so, what a great weekend!

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Tuesday Update: This morning I was reading Sam a story which mentioned in passing a man who has to work at night, and sleep during the day. Sam laughed and said, "So he's nocturnal!" Yes, yes he is. Oh, and Sam learned to say his first 25-letter word. It's from an old favorite board book about dogs, and when they howl at the moon they say, "AAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO". I explained the As and Os and he caught right on. Now, if only there were a canine spelling bee, he'd be ready.

In-born love of projectile devices

First, two photos from Easter. I think I mentioned that Sam's Easter basket contained a little rubber bulb which he can squeeze to shoot a harmless foam dart.

You'd think we'd given him a real live pistol with a laser sight and silencer.

Sam spent all day playing with it, and continues to enjoy it. Just last night he and I raced around the house shooting at one another. And on the first day he had a great time skeet shooting a balloon.

You may be wondering what this has to do with Easter and the resurrection. For the answer to that, I refer you to Susan, who bought the items for his basket, and who, on Easter, attempted to convince us it wasn't a "gun" but... what did she call it? I can't remember. "Foam shooter", perhaps.

To a 3-year-old, it's most DEFINITELY a gun. As you can see from the gleeful look in his eye. That morning, despite not knowing previously of the existence of these, he said to me, "Daddy, I always always always always wanted one of these!" Lends credence to the whole concept of racial memory. Or gender-related desire for projectile drivers.

(I told him Uncle Paul, Grandpa Gene and my dad's Dad were hunters and knew all about guns. Now he regards Uncle Paul as the resident expert and the other day when I said we could run around outside chasing one another with squirt guns he wanted to know if Uncle Paul had taught me about squirt guns.)

Found a new playground while wandering around East Rochester (a second-ring suburb) looking for an empanana restaurant. Sam spotted the playground and, having a little time, we stopped and played. The park it's in is very large, with old, old trees, and a baseball diamond in the other end, flanked by old (20's?) houses. It had the feel not of the Rochester suburbs, but of the small towns in northern NY or even northeastern OH.

(These towns always both beckon as places where one can escape the rat race, yet bear underlying dread, as one wonders how in the heck anyone makes a living. Unless of course you are Jimmy Stewart as the attorney who is well respected, spurns big-city life and depends heavily on his "gone fishing" sign.)

In the shot with the blue slide, Sam is posing. He is more and more aware of the camera. In a photo below he even spent time practicing his smile in front of the mirror before letting me take the shot. Have to start using a hidden camera.

Had a good Mother's Day--and more to the point, Susan did too. While Susan napped in the afternoon (not from lack of industry--we'd been up in the night because Sam came down with an ear infection), Sam and I spend a long time working with playdough. (Oh, and yes, he's getting a hair cut soon.)

Sam and I did a craft project so he'd have something to give Susan: Sam made a suncatcher. Mom did this with us as kids--you place little plastic beads in a metal form and bake it in the microwave. The scent of it after baking brought back pleasant, long-dormant memories.

In other news, Sam is now aware there are other intelligences than his own in the universe. I deduce this because in the past couple of weeks he has started expressing curiosity about how Susan and I learn things. I come home from work and ask how he enjoyed the parachute at Friday Gym Frolics, and he asked, astonished, how I knew he played with that. Susan gives him straight answers ("Daddy and Mommy talk on the phone"); I just tell him daddies know everything. Shouldn't there be *some* mystery in his life?

* * *

Just after listening to "Clementine":

Sam: Do they sometimes call wells "canons"?
Susan: Oh, they said, "canyon". It's like a gorge, or a valley, probably with rock walls... (searching for a better description)
Sam: Like a deep ravine, mommy?
Susan: Yeah, yeah! That's what it's like! How did you know that? (surprised)
Sam: I don't know. (pause) Will you tell Daddy?

Whys and Wherefores

Pleasant weekend. Took Sam to a nearby playground while Susan bought groceries. It's amazing how merely rolling around on the ground is exciting and enjoyable when you're three. The "enjoyment of life" part of the brain must take up 70% at that age.


Also shown: Sam has learned to eat a bowl of yogurt without spilling a drop. What he hasn't quite mastered is keeping it off his face. Here's his rendition of the Yogurt Monster.

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Susan and Sam were playing in the backyard Saturday, when Sam just knelt down on a stump in the back yard, and after a few moments he got up and said, “I just said a prayer.”
Susan: “What did you say?”
Sam: “It was to God.”
Susan:“What did you tell God, or is it private?”
Sam: “It’s not private. I thanked him for the grass, and stumps, and dandylions. Then I said Amen.”

Nice to see him praying on his own. :-) On the other hand, Sunday after church we drove past a Unitarian church with a particularly nice playground. Sam wanted to know if we were going there. When I said no ("Why?" "They don't worship God") Sam said he didn't want to worship God--he wanted to go to that church (with the nice playground). So we still have a little work to do!

Again on spiritual matters, we borrowed from Sam's Aunt Amy a copy of The Prince of Egypt, a Disney film about the Exodus. It's visually beautiful and well done, a tall order given how graphic the topic can be. Susan went the extra mile with Sam and sat with him during the Passover scene and the death of the first-born, explaining to him what was going on.

Which seemed like a great idea, but led to questions in subsequent days about whether "angels kill little boys." Hooboy. Just that once, I told him, though that's maybe not quite true.

* * *

He's definitely into the Why stage. Susan narrowly avoided trouble the other day when she caught herself before mentioning the Holy Spirit. THAT would have been a long conversation!

The whys have even infected my singing to him at night to put him to sleep. I was singing "The Mermaid" and he started asking what a widow is, what it means for the land lubbers to "lie down below" (go to hell, I think, but I didn't tell him that, being a land lubber myself), and I quickly changed songs! Since most children's songs are about death or the sea or railroads (go figure), this may seriously deplete my repetoire! Yesterday he said that he didn't think Clementine really died. No, surely not.