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“What time is it?”

I get that question a lot. We don’t have a clock in our living room. Unless the television is on, which it isn’t when Tyler is still awake, there is just a single place to check the time. Mounted on a wall, roughly four feet off the floor, sits an EnergyStar electronic thermostat. On the thermostat is a one inch by three inch display, that shows the day, time, and room temperature. The display is so crisp and clear that it’s viewable from a staggering fifteen inches away. I crane my neck to see the display from the floor, where Tyler and I were playing a high stakes game of cat and mouse with a couple of his toys.

“Uhh… eight seventeen.”

For some peculiar, OCD reason, I am unable to give general time to people. At eight seventeen, I’d never say it was a quarter after eight. If someone asks me the time, I tell them exactly the time displayed. Is it just me, or is this common?

Sarah told Tyler (and me) that it was time to start cleaning up, and joined us on the floor to help. Little People, Legos, cars, and farm animals made their way into their respective bins.

“Okay, let’s put the dinosaurs away next,” Sarah offered.

“I count them,” asked Tyler?

We gathered all of Tyler’s miniature dinosaurs and placed them on the upturned lid of the bin we were working with. Tyler picked one up and placed it into the bin.

“One.”

I can’t speak for Sarah, but I was very interested in seeing how this was going to proceed. Tyler can count to ten, and beyond, but tends to skip the number four, going from three to five instead. We’ve been working with Tyler to count slower and more deliberately, placing extra emphasis on four and seven, which he also omits on occasion. Instead of counting to two, then three, before ending my suspense, Tyler decided to work smarter, not harder. He grasped the lid, upon which all the remaining dinosaurs rested, lifted it, and unceremoniously dumped them into the bin.

“All of them.”

Sarah and I both laughed heartily and said, in unison, “One. All of them.”

I found myself at a point where I wanted to pull my hair out, kick a baby seal, and shoot my neighbor’s inflatable pool with a BB gun. I spent nearly two hours sitting on the bathroom floor asking, pleading, and demanding. I took increasingly deeper breaths and closed my eyes, desperately trying not to rage. Potty training was not going well. As a result, we took a break from it. This was four months ago.

Recently, Sarah and I have been having talks with Tyler about diapers, being a big boy, and where he needs to pee and poop. He’s been very agreeable. He knows he should pee in the potty and not in the diaper. He knows that he needs to tell mommy or daddy when he needs to use the potty. He knows that it will make daddy very, very happy if he would quit soiling his diapers.

“Tyler, where do we pee and poop?”

“In da potty.”

“Yes, and what happens when you need to go pee or poop?”

“Tell mommy daddy, I use a potty.”

“Gooooood job, buddy. Now, Tyler, there’s no pee in your diaper right now. Do you need to use the potty?”

“Hmmm. No fank you. Maybe ‘morrow.”

Listen, you little brat! I know that your diaper has been dry for three hours. I also know that you sucked down a cup of apple juice about an hour ago. Your bladder is roughly the size of a golf ball, at best. Why don’t you do us all a favor a sit your plump little butt on the potty, okay? See, one of my duties as your father is to challenge you. This is how you learn and grow and develop the cajones to try new, and sometimes scary, things. So, pretty please, with sugar on top, piss in the plastic bucket.

But I didn’t say that, did I? Nope. “Well, I think you do need to use the potty. We will sit on the potty in 3 minutes.”

Before starting up again with potty training, Sarah and I came up with a reward system. One sticker for every time we have success on the potty. After three stickers are rewarded, Tyler gets a prize (to be determined). Once the ball gets rolling, we’ll start giving prizes after six stickers, then ten stickers. Then, we start to faze out the rewards and hope the habit is formed.

At the last couple family outings, we used my backpack in lieu of a diaper bag. It’s worked out well, and Tyler has developed an interest in my backpack. At his request, I put the backpack on Tyler. He promptly lost his balance and fell backwards with the weight. I asked Tyler if he would like his very own, special “Tyler backpack,” and boy did he! That is how we decided on his first reward for getting three stickers.

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It’s working! We’re having success! As a matter of fact, he’s already gotten his second reward as well (a total of six stickers)… a pony ride at the zoo.

Progress wasn’t going so well at first. We’d sit Tyler on the potty (crying, most times) and tell him to push. We’d sit on the floor near him and wait, constantly prodding him to push more. It worked a couple times, but we usually ended up sitting there for an inordinate amount of time. Tyler would whine “I all done,” and we’d just give up for that session. It was during one of these “I all done” moments that Sarah grew impatient and walked out of the bathroom, telling Tyler, “You need to make your pee come out. Please tell me when you do.”

Less than three minutes later, in an adorable sing-song voice, Tyler said “I doin’ it.”

And he was.

I wondered if our constant prodding and encouragement was placing too much pressure on Tyler. The last few times we sat him on the potty, we told him to tell us when he was all done and walked out of the room. Much to our delight, this appears to be working. He’s even dropped a couple turd-bombs in there as well.

It’s been three days, and things are going great. He doesn’t tell us that he needs to use the potty yet. When we tell him it’s time to try, though, he sits down and pushes out the yellow delight right away. The next “prize”, which he will be receiving later today after having received four additional stickers, will be to watch a DVD and eat popcorn.

Everyone, keep your fingers crossed for us. For better or worse, we’re jumping on the potty wagon and can’t wait to cruise out of diaper-town… just so we can cruise back in this coming February.

And, to those of you that have been to our house (and who watched the video), did you see that they paved our access road??!?!?! FINALLY!!! So cool.

So, one week after Tyler’s second birthday, we went from this:

Through this:

To this:

Sarah didn’t like it for one single reason. It completely erased his little boy looks, and made him look much older. It was sad for her, but we both absolutely love the look!

I’ve written previously of Tyler’s affinity towards older, attractive, women. He has, once again, made his father proud.

Tyler’s Aunt Acey and Uncle Darren (Doo-Dohn, as pronounced by Tyler previous to last week. Sadly, he now says Darren) flew up for the weekend from South Carolina this past weekend. Acey turned 21 last week, so, in addition to visiting family and her “favorite nephew in the whole wide world,” libations were on order for this visit. Obviously, we were in need of a sitter for Tyler, as was Sarah’s sister for her daughter, Weckie (Tyler’s name for her). That sitter came in the form of Weckie’s very pretty Aunt KayKay. She has watched Tyler and Weckie previously, so we felt very comfortable having her do so again.

She arrived Saturday afternoon, shortly after we all (Sarah, her three sisters, their spouses, her parents, me, Tyler, and Weckie) returned from a delicious dinner at a pizza joint. In a very happy, bubbly, and excited voice, KayKay greeted Tyler. He promptly made like Toyota and ran away at a high speed. Once in the house, we warned her that Tyler woke up early that morning and had napped poorly. We predicted to her, correctly, that he would be up past his bedtime. It’s difficult to stick to a normal bedtime in a different house, with a different person. Especially while playing with his cousin Weckie. Basically, we told her that we expected Tyler to be a handful with a side of grumpy thrown in, you know, for good measure.

And lastly, we explained that Tyler has been going through a “shy phase” lately and that it’d take a while for him to warm up to her, if he did at all. It was around this time that Tyler peeked his head out from the room he was hiding in to look at KayKay. Her eyes flicked from mine to his and, flashing a smile at him, asked Tyler if he was being shy. In that moment, I watched my toddler son fall in love. Full on, head over heals, journey to the ends of the world for you, love. Ask me to jump and I’ll ask how high, ask me to poop and I’ll ask what color… Love. His eyes widened and his face broke into an ear-to-ear, heart melting smile. Then, just as quickly, he ducked back into the room and started giggling wildly.

“Or,” I said to KayKay, “you won’t have any issues with him at all.”

The next five minutes was spent with Tyler peeking out at KayKay, smiling like a mad scientist, then hiding once she noticed him (and laughing heartily while safely hidden from view). At one point, he walked up to me and asked, “Where KayKay go?”

I didn’t have to worry about him for the rest of the evening and night. As a matter of fact, Tyler seemed frustrated that I distracted his googly eyes when I tried to give him a hug before leaving.

We had a great time that night. It was strange for me, because I was one of the two designated drivers. It’s quite a different experience to view the bar scene through sober eyes. Upon closing the bar, Darren (the other DD) and I drove all the drunkees back to Sarah’s sister’s house in the two vehicles. Tyler, Weckie, and KayKay were sound asleep. We started a bonfire and continued the festivities, and I was able to imbibe as well at this point, as there was no more driving to do. I was very tired, though, so only had a total of two drinks the entire evening/night/morning. I wasn’t the first, and I wasn’t the last, but I went to bed at four in the morning, leaving the other two guys to ponder life and discuss all the world’s greatest questions. I’m sure they discovered the meaning of life, but they have no recollection of it after waking from their comas.

Sundays are my days to get up with Tyler. Under most circumstances, I have no problem with this. After only two hours and forty-five minutes of sleep, I do have a problem. But it was my cross to bear, not Tyler’s, so I got up and quietly played with him. After some time, he pointed to a pair of shoes and said, “Auntie KayKay shoes.”

“Yes, buddy. Those are KayKay’s shoes. She’s still upstairs sleeping.”

He continued to look at the shoes and whispered, lovingly, “yeahhhhhh.”

I found out later that morning that Tyler had actually woken up two hours earlier. KayKay pulled him out of the pack-and-play crib and brought him to bed with her.

What a stud.

And, a last minute addition to this post… Tuesday night had Sarah, myself, and Tyler sitting at the dinner table. We were eating leftovers for dinner and talking with each other. Seemingly out of nowhere, Tyler looked up at us and said, “Auntie KayKay… booful.” We told Tyler that, yes, KayKay is beautiful, while Sarah started dialing her phone to pass the message along.

* I can’t really post a picture that fully relates to this post.

I love my family. I love playing outside with them. I love chasing them around the house, stealing kisses or being the tickle-monster. I love sitting around and having lazy days with them.

Sometimes, though, the best part of my day is something that Tyler is completely unaware of. It’s a simple act that Sarah and I both perform, albeit separately, nearly every single night.

Sometimes, the best part of my day is checking on him before I go to bed, and seeing him sleeping soundly in his crib. I often find him lying in such a way that fully reminds me of the way I sleep. So, I cover him up, kiss his cheek, whisper that I love him, and just simply admire my beautiful son.

When I wake up in the mornings, I sometimes wonder what mother Earth has in store for me over the course of the day. Will I save a family from a burning house? Will I pull a man from his wrecked vehicle mere moments before it explodes in a mushroom cloud of fire and destruction? With I thwart a bank robbery? Or will I simply go through my normal routine with work, come home to a delicious dinner, and spend the evening with my family?

It’s a tough call. I know that I’m destined for great things *cough*winning the lottery even though I never actually remember to play*cough*, but it’s anyone’s guess if today will be the day that greatness happens to me.

I’ve no doubts on what Tyler thinks in the mornings. Eat. Food. And when Tyler’s ready for breakfast, boy oh boy, you better hurry, because he’s not much for waiting. Almost every morning, he gives the same response when asked what he would like to eat. “Eggies and ancakes.” Eggs and pancakes, for you non-parents. Does he wonder what each new day will bring? Does he know that today, for example, I will be finishing the wheelbarrow that he so desperately wants to play with? I’ll blog about that later, by the way.

What it comes down to, though, is this. We may think we know what a particular day with bring to us. We may even be right in some of those predictions. The fact is, anything can happen on any single day. Things we could never have predicted. I only say all this because I wonder, I really wonder what that worm thought this morning. Did he wake up and think, “well, here comes another day of digging through dirt, looking for stuff to eat,” or maybe that he might find a mate later that afternoon?

How much did those thoughts change when I unearthed that worm while pulling weeds and moving mulch in our garden area? This particular worm was probably the the ninth or tenth worm I’d come across while working in the garden. Most times, I just picked them up and threw them in the garden. And, most times, I’d tell them to poop in there and make my soil rich. A few times, though, I’d say, “Tyler! Worm!”

Tyler would drop whatever he was doing at the time (playing tug-o-war with Delilah, pushing his toy lawnmower, playing in his sandbox) and come a-running. I’d point, he’d laugh, then I’d tell him to put it in the garden. Each time, he did. Until this last worm.

“Tyler! Worm!”

After doing this toddler-run over to me and laughing at the worm, he said, “Tyler have it.”

“You want to have the worm?”

“Yeah. Hold it,” he said, while bending over and delicately grabbing the worm with his clumsy fingers.

“Tyler, will you put the worm in the garden?”

“No. Ride inna wagon,” he replied, and gave one giant nod.

Before I could try to beg for the life of the worm, Tyler was off. It brought back a memory of when I was a toddler myself. Heck, maybe I was a boy, I don’t know when one is no longer considered a toddler. I had decided that I wanted some pet worms. With my mom in the house, and my dad working on a car in the driveway, I started digging for worms in the backyard. I don’t remember exactly how many I collected, but there were more than a few. I put them (delicately, if I may add) into the back of a toy truck I had with me.

When I checked on them a few hours later, I was devastated. At that tender young age, I learned the consequences of leaving worms to bake in the hot summer sun.

And here I was, watching my son as he claimed his first pet worm. This same son that likes to squeeze orange wedges until juice and orange guts start to ooze from his fingers. He’s running to his wagon with a worm pinched between his thumb and index finger. I thought to myself, just let it be a quick, painless death for the unlucky little bastard, and continued weeding. In the distance I heard Sarah say, “Oh, you’re bringing a worm with you on the wagon?” and Tyler replying with “Yeah. Ride inna wagon,” before climbing into the wagon with it.

Ten minutes passed. I was in my own world of thoughts as I pulled weeds and loaded the wheelbarrow with mulch. Suddenly, I heard Tyler’s voice behind me.

“Put worm a garden,” he said, completely as a matter-of-fact.

I turned to see him still ever-so-gently pinching the worm in his fingers. He walked to the edge of the garden, knelt over, and placed it right on top. He watched it for just another moment before running to go play again.

Did the worm have any premonitions for that day? Did he know he’d face a giant with a giant shiny tool in his hand? Did he have any idea that the giant would call over a smaller giant to laugh at it? Did he expect to be pulled from his home and taken for a ride in a place he never even knew existed?

Oh, worm, the places you’ll go. Will you succeed? Yes, you will indeed. (98 3/4% guaranteed.)

Click on any of these pictures to view them much larger.

Tyler wanted to help rake the leaves.

PULLLLLLL…. he actually got a pretty decent sized pile for a 16 month old.

Delilah watched, and Tyler grabbed a couple handfuls.

JUMP!

This smile is worth all the gold in the world.

Tyler played with his daddy.

And he played with his mommy.

There are tons of great photos that I haven’t posted here. For more leaf pile madness, click this link to view the rest of the pictures.

Alternate Title: Reason number 2,377,467 that I love Tyler

When I get sick, the world around me comes to a screeching halt. You need help loading the dishwasher? Too bad, I’m sick. The world is in danger of a zombie apocalypse, and I am mankind’s only hope? It’s gonna have to wait until next week, I’m sick over here. You have 3 tickets to the Superbowl? … … Gimme a second, I’m thinking. Yeah, it’s that bad.

Last week, I told Sarah that my throat was feeling a little scratchy. She replied with a compassionate, “oh no,” but her eyes told a different story. Her eyes grew wary with the thought of having a 15 month old child and a 31 year old baby to tend to for the next few days. I started popping vitamin C pills like they were candy, because let’s be honest here, men only take vitamin C or any other pill after they get sick, not before. If it ain’t broke…

I came home from work completely drained. Apparently, it takes a lot of energy for a body to fight a cold off. Tyler hasn’t caught on to the fact that, when daddy is sick, it is no longer “all about Tyler” in our household anymore. Kids are selfish little brats sometimes. While I would have loved to just lay on the couch with a blanket and a soft pillow while Sarah made me some hot chocolate and a delicious supper, I instead had to crawl around on the floor, laugh and talk to Tyler through my feels-like-I-just-swallowed-a-bucket-of-sharp-glass throat, and chase him from room to room. Meanwhile, Sarah was in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for Tyler and me, and making a delicious supper for us.

Eventually, I was given a bit of a reprieve. Tyler ran into me and gave me a giant hug. I took the opportunity to fall backwards onto the ground while hugging him. This was one of those hugs. Parents know what I’m talking about. This hug could cure world hunger, and bring peace and love to the entire planet. This hug makes angels cry and birds sing. Love was borne from this type of hug.

Tyler rolled off, pulled my shirt up and dug his finger into my belly button so hard that it made my boy parts hurt. Then he showed me his belly button. After that, he studied my stomach for a couple seconds. I didn’t know what was going on, but I could tell he was processing something in that little head of his. Either that, or he was pooping, but he tends to stare me right in the eyes while he does that. A moment later, he pointed to a scar that was roughly the size of a dime in the area of my obliques, and said, “Owwwwwwww.”

I actually had to look at my stomach to make sure that I wasn’t bleeding or cut somewhere. It never occurred to me that he would be able to associate a scar with an ‘ouch.’ I’m actually still rather confused how he was able to figure that out.

Feeling a moment of immense pride in my son’s ability to make that connection, I replied, “Yes, that’s daddy’s ouch. When really bad ouchies heal, they make a scar. This is daddy’s scar.”

Tyler leaned forward, put his lips on it and said “Muah.” This is Tyler’s best imitation of a kiss. This was on of those moments. Parents know what I’m talking about. It was this moment that reminded me that I was put on Earth to be Tyler’s daddy. It was this moment that I didn’t feel sick anymore. This moment existed for only me, and if I shared it with the world, crime would end, the ailing would be healed, and water would have turned to wine. Love was borne from a moment like this.

“Thank you, Tyler. Now it’s all better.”

Later, it couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes, we were playing on the floor with cars and tractors and farm animals. There was no storyline or dialog to follow. I drove the tractor in a circle on the floor, picked up a couple animals, drove in a circle, dropped them off, drove in a circle, picked up a couple animals… well, you get the picture. I started to feel drained and very ill again. I laid my head on the floor and told Tyler I was sorry and that “daddy doesn’t feel well.” Tyler played with his toys for just a moment longer. I closed my eyes for a second and let out quiet moan. Just then, Tyler put his hand on my head and started petting me. Tyler doesn’t have a solid grasp on being gentle, and his petting was slightly haphazard, but it didn’t stop this from being one of the most amazing moments of my life as a father. This was one of those moments that could have… well, I think you know. I’m talking singing angels over here. I was wrong earlier. Love was borne from a moment like this!

We got a coupon for a free kid’s pizza, so guess where we went next?

Note: That cut on his forehead? Well, Tyler decided to pull a bookcase (it was more of a shelving unit) over onto himself. The edge caught him right down the middle of his forehead. He screamed!!! When I asked if he wanted a hug, he stopped crying and said, “Yaaaaaaaa” in the most pathetic tone possible.