Rookie Dad: The Youngling is getting old -- and excited

As of Wednesday, The Youngling turns three years old. With that milestone comes a big girl bed. And with that big girl bed comes a big girl bedroom. No longer will she call the smallest bedroom in the house her own, she gets a bedroom that isn't just five steps from mommy and daddy's room.

But with that big girl bedroom comes plenty of painting and other basic carpentry work for mommy and daddy -- all while trying to keep a curious and excited three year old out of fresh paint and away from discarded nails and saws.

Excitement, though, comes with the territory and it must come with the age too. Ever since she spent the night with her Grandma and Grandpa on the farm outside of Austin a few weeks ago, she's been planning on going back. The first weekend after her sleepover at their house, she went as far as packing her bag and grabbing her pillow. She begged me to help her put her shoes on and get in my car. She wanted to see the corn, the cats, the Mickey Mouse ball, the beach ball, the crackers, the books and the toys in the basement -- and she wanted to see Grandma and Grandpa too.

In preparation for her next visit to the Austin farm, she has now picked out clothes to wear for the big day and I'm sure if I were to mention that we're just over a week away from Thanksgiving at their house, she'd probably have a bag packed and be trying to open the door to my car.

At this point I'm not sure if she even cares about her new bedroom. Grandma and Grandpa are her focus for the time being.

Rookie Dad: For the Love of Cheese

Kids are weird. Maybe I think that way because I'm more than a few years removed from being one myself. But it really clicked for me this morning as I stood in the kitchen attempting to assemble my lunch before heading out the door.

I had laid out two slices of whatever bread was in the house and was already facing twenty questions from The Youngling.

"Daddy makin' a sandwich?"

"Yeah," I replied.

I walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a tasty new block of my favorite brand of cheddar cheese and the ham which I hoped hadn't turned into a science experiment yet.

"You puttin' ham on your bread daddy?"

"Yep, dad's gotta eat."

I grabbed one of my semi-ancient Ginsu knives out of a drawer and opened the new block of cheese in a way that could have very well resulted in me lying on the floor bleeding to death.

"You gonna put cheese on your bread daddy?"

"Yeah, I'll put two slices of cheese on it like always," I said as The Youngling stood on a dining room chair next to me.

I turned to move my Scoody Doo lunch pail closer and reached for the block of cheddar cheese and the cheese was gone.

I looked to my right and there stood The Youngling with the block of cheese in the corner of her mouth gnawing on it like any normal kid would do to a candy bar.

Laughing now, I asked "Do you want me to cut off a couple of slices of cheese for you?"

"No daddy, I don't want any cheese."

Maybe she actually meant that she didn't want any more cheese. Whatever the case, at least she had something different for breakfast.

Rookie Dad: Cribs!

I've only seen The Youngling truly scared one time before last night. And last night wasn't violently raining and thundering without electricity.

No, last night was the first night that The Youngling would spending in her newly converted toddler bed. Gone was the one side of her crib and in its place were the mildly tacky metal half-railing things that, in theory, should keep her from rolling out of her newish bed and landing on the floor at 3:30 AM.
I made sure to get her extra tired before we took her up to bed. That way she would be less prone to tossing and turning and less likely to end up on the floor with a sudden thud. After her teeth were brushed it was off to bed.

At least that's how it was supposed to go. Instead of eagerly crawling up in to her bed, she stood in the corner and looked truly worried. "Where'd part go, Daddy?", she said in a concerned tone. Repeating it and crying as we both tried to talk her in to trying out her newish bed. She had even watched as I disassembled part of the crib and installed the mini-rails to prevent middle-of-the-night tumbles.

So I had to show her where the part went that I had removed. We padded the floor with some pillows and a quilt and even made a tumble-stopping log out of another quilt to put her at ease. Amazingly, not long after 9 PM, The Youngling was actually in her newish bed and stayed there the entire night -- even after her quilt log ended up on the floor.

This is one of the biggest steps yet, next week it's time to get her accustomed to driving.

Rookie Dad: Toddler vs. Charlie Sheen

It dawned on me recently that toddlers often string words together and form memorable quotes. Then I began thinking whether or not The Youngling's toddler-talk quotes made more sense than those uttered by Charlie Sheen in the past week. Let's compare...

Charlie Sheen: “Duh. Winning”

The Youngling: "Daddy booger nose."

(To me this one makes sense because I've had a cold for the past two or eight weeks, she sees me blowing my nose about 30 times a day. Unless Sheen is in some sort of competition, winning is a moot point.)

Charlie Sheen: “I’m a rock star from Mars”

The Youngling: "Mommy crazy time."

(This quote makes more sense to me too because Mommy's life is hectic and I thing that my daughter understands this -- as for Sheen being a rock star from Mars, come on, there's no oxygen on Mars. Next.)

Charlie Sheen: “I’m a Vatican assassin warlock!”

The Youngling: "Chocomilk fall over."

(Again my daughter wins this matchup. "Chocomilk fall over" is a coherent thought -- her chocolate milk obviously fell over. As for Sheen, he's just putting random words together and hoping that some of them form a coherent thought.)

In the end, my daughter wins this matchup 3-0. Her words are meaningful and form coherent sentences which most everyone would understand. But Charlie Sheen's final memorable quote sort of sums up why he lost a battle of words to a two year-old -- “I don’t know. All these words just sound cool together. They come from my grand wizard master”

Tow lessons to take away form this: never trust words given to you by your grand wizard master and never doubt that a two year-old can outsmart a drugged-up, borderline bi-polar Hollywood actor who says “Let’s hook up and just bring fiery death.”

Rookie Dad: She was the star of the halftime show

It seems like just yesterday that I was watching the Superbowl halftime show. The lights, the dancing, the singing... it was quite the spectacle -- and that was just in my living room. Yeah, anything packed with music and dancing is fair game for The Youngling to interpret in her own way and the Black Eyed Peas had nothing on my two year-old.

Much like the guy playing the cowbell for the Blue Oyster Cult, she really explored the space. Her dance routine went from the kitchen, down the hallway through the living room, into the dining and around again. There was dancing, shaking and even some singing. I actually think that The Youngling was more in-tune than any of the Peas were.

It amazes me that a child of thirty inches (more or less) tall has the energy and the talent to spontaneously perform and choreograph on the fly her own dance routine. I'm pretty sure that she even incorporated some sweet moonwalking into the performance and that, combined with her own homebrewed moves, made for a routine which spanned three or four decades of pop culture.

My mind was blown for a few moments when she actually stopped to watch the performance on TV because at that moment she began to sing along with the lyrics. Maybe her mom has been listening to alot of KDWB with The Youngling in the back seat or maybe she's some sort of Beethoven-like musical genius. Either way, she kept up entertained far better than the Black Eyed Peas did.

Rookie Dad: A routine E.R. visit

Sunday evening was a milestone for The Youngling. No, she didn't miraculously read a book all by herself for the first time. Instead, she got to visit the hospital.

Oh, she's been to the clinic multiple times but who hasn't? The trip to the hospital on Sunday evening wasn't much of an event (in my eyes) and like anythig else it began all-too innocently. As The Youngling sat next to me on the couch watching "The Simpsons", she reached for something or began wiggling her way off toward the floor and for whatever reason lost her balance. I couldn't catch her fast enough and she fell sideways, hitting her temple on the edge of the coffee table. She erupted in the loudest, shrillest cries I have ever heard and in mere moments there were more tears -- this time from her mom.

I sprung up and looked at The Youngling's temple which was now home to a plateaued goose-egg about the size of a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. This sent us all in to action. It was instantly decided that we WERE going to the hospital -- NOW. I grabbed a few things -- including an ice pack and towel -- and we were on our way.

In the end, everything checked out. The very patient doctor looked in The Youngling's ears for bunny rabbits (her normal doctor is always on the lookout for butterflies so color me confused) and examined her reflexes and even her mouth where he stated he was very impressed with her shiny teeth. She did much better than the kid down the hall who sounded like he had broken every bone in his body based on his screaming.

After that ordeal it was back home where The Youngling was back to her normal self calling the cat "dumb" and pointing at the coffee table and saying "table, doctor, ow". I'd say that she has this whole cause and effect thing figured out. If only she can pick up some odd jobs to pay that upcoming bill off.

Rookie Dad: How to decorate for Christmas with a two year old

It's official. As of about two weeks ago The Youngling officially turned two years old. While that means a visit to the doctor next week where she'll be pricked with a few needles, weighed, scrutinized and measured, it also means that she's up to more hijinx than ever before.

Her latest adventures have included climbing up on to the toilet and exploring the treasures that await her in the over-the toilet cabinet, grabbing Christmas ornaments off the tree and proudly presenting them to anyone paying attention and pulling dining room chairs in to the kitchen and exploring everything on the counter and playing with knives.

The whole playing with knives thing has the wife worried and I know I should be more concerned as well but she's only ventured in to Ginsu territory. Contrary to the ads touting the cutting ability of Ginsu knives, these knives require a fair amount of pressure to actually accomplish some slicing. Nobody actually holds a Ginsu, throws a pineapple up in the air and slices it in half, that would break a Ginsu. So the knives, at least the Ginsu knives, don't worry me. Especially being that I've never cut myself with a Ginsu so how could it possibly be bad for a toddler to occasionally be holding a knife?

Outside of dangerous things, The Youngling is in the midst of experiencing her first "active" Christmas. Last year she was still in full-on crawling mode but this time around she is running, climbing and talking. Particularly amusing to her was last weekend as the two of us spent Saturday together decorating the yard for Christmas. I spent part of the day hauling penguins, Santa, reindeer, toy soldiers and bags of cords and tangled Christmas lights from the basement. With each giant plastic figurine she saw, The Youngling giggled gleefully, pointed at the figurine, touched it and proudly demanded "more, more!" as she ran around while I drug these dusty treasures from the basement through the house out to the front porch.

More fun came in seeing just what kind of focus a two year old has when it comes to following directions. As I strung lights up along our fence, I asked The Youngling to stay at least in the same area of the yard as I was in. Instead, after I focused for a minute on the task at hand then looked around to find the giddy two year old, I instead saw nothing. No child to be seen, just snow. Displeased with this development, I trudged around the side of the house and knew immediately to look in the porch where I found her having an impromptu tea party with her tiny mitten-covered hands fumbling with tea cups. This activity was soon replaced with her pushing a Tonka-like truck through the light covering of snow and in to my tangle of lights.

All told, I think I did a fair job handling the Christmas decorating tasks and The Youngling still has to peek out the second floor window overlooking the front yard every night to see Santa's village in the yard.