occasional melancholy

Sometimes the kid just makes me want to scream. I know she's testing boundaries and I know she's fast approaching the "Terrible Threes" (which I'm told are far worse than the unjustly famous "Terrible Twos") but sometimes when I try to talk to her, it's like we aren't even the same species.

Invariably, just when I'm about to lose my temper, she will do something impossibly cute and I will hang my head in shame that I could ever get mad it this little bindle of adorableness.

The library program in Baby Jail is quite good.

I don't have any idea what I'm doing. I know this does not make me unique as a father, but it's my blog so I get to whine sometimes.

Career Day: Trailer Park Manager

My strategy lately is to just be next to her all the time. If she's playing or reading or drawing or doing a puzzle or taking 90 minutes to eat dinner or sitting on the potty or watching a DVD, I'm just going to be there. Unless of course Mama is right there, then I will be nearby and probably taking pictures.

She actually ate pumpkin guts, straight out of the pumpkin.
That isn't bad, right?

Sometimes I join her in what she's doing and sometimes I just observe. And sometimes I'm able to really enjoy the moment, but sometimes I look at her and think, "Hello, stranger."

"Do you like my hat?"

I wonder if I would have these thoughts if we had more than one kid. Like maybe if we had two or three or four I wouldn't have time to worry because we'd just be too busy running from meal to event to meal to event to meal to bed. But, sorry Kiddo, you remain the only egg in our basket so you get the full force of my undiluted parenting neurosis. I'll try to keep it to myself, mostly. I promise to encourage you when you need it, and let you figure stuff out on your own whenever I can. And to just be there. Right by you. Y'know, if you ever need anything. Cool?

I'll even go in for the occasional Floor Picnic.