The scene: We have somebody coming to look at our house soon. The realtor told us that the person really liked our garage. In preparation of the showing, I want to go to the garage and spend some time cleaning it up and really show how much room there is in there. Tyler and I have gotten dressed and are getting ready to come down the stairs. At the last moment, I realize that we forgot to grab socks.

“Wait, Tyler. We need to get some socks first.”

“Okay daddy.”

We walk back into Tyler’s room. I grab a pair of socks for him and then go to my room to get a pair of socks for myself. As we start to go down the stairs, I ask Tyler if he can carry his socks.

“Uhm, sure. Then we put them on, and we go outside and play play play.”

We continued down the stairs. Unbeknownst to me, Tyler was busy pondering something. I turned to look at him and saw that he had a bit of a smirk on his face. I wondered whether I should ask what he was thinking about or let him finish his thought process. As I watched, he raised his socks above his head and started to swing them at me.

“Daddy, I’m gonna sock you with my socks!”

And then he did.

Me (yelling from the living room into the bathroom): You have 5 minutes.

Tyler (yelling from the bathroom into the living room): Why I have 5 minutes?

Me: Because I don’t want you pooping all day!

Tyler: I AM POOPING ALL DAY! I AM POOPING ALL DAY!

He then proceeds to start singing a song to himself. “I want thank you…. letting me… be myself.”

“Tyler what do you want to eat for breakfast?”

I expected to hear a response along the lines of pancakes, or eggs, or cereal. Instead, I was corrected as to whom I was speaking with.

“Actually, I’m a frog right now.”

“Ok, what does a frog want to eat for breakfast?”

“Umm frog food.”

Were you aware of this? Frogs eat frog food?! Next you’re going to tell me that dogs eat dog food, and lions eat lion food, and people eat people food.

“Well, tell me what foods you want to eat, mister frog.”

“Umm… Flies, and bugs, and penguins, and snowmens.”

So, for breakfast, we had fly and bug eggs, penguin sausages, and snowmen orange slices.

The scene: Tyler is at an age where he sometimes wants to play alone. This transition is strange for Sarah and myself. We sometimes just sit on the floor, wondering what to do. On this particular day, I decide to clean up my email inbox while Tyler plays with his Iron Man and Silver Spiderman toys. Moments later, he’s bouncing on Delilah’s back, trying to ride her like a horsey. Just as quickly, he switches gears again, jumps in my lap and gives me the world’s best hug and kiss.

Tyler: “I love you, daddy.”

Me: “I love you too, buddy.”

Tyler: “You da best daddy, ever.”

Me: “Thank you Tyler. You’re the best Tyler ever.”

Tyler bounds away with his superhero toys and begins playing by the big window in the living room. I return to my inbox. A minute or two later, he stops playing.

Tyler: “Open it.”

I wasn’t aware he was speaking to me, so I continue my activity.

Tyler: “Daddy, I have idea.”

Me: Oh yeah? What’s your idea?”

Tyler: “Open a window up.”

Me: “Oh, Tyler, it’s too cold and windy. We need to leave the windows closed.”

Tyler: “Is a bug on a window. Open it up. I wanna kill it.”

I glance over to see a boxelder bug on the outside of the window.

Me: “You want to kill that bug?”

Tyler: “Yeah. SMASH it!”

Let’s hope he never looks to Lizzie Borden as a role model. I’m slightly frightened.

As Tyler played with his Buzz Lightyear toy, Sarah and I caught up with each other. I had been in New York for the last few days, and wanted to know how things had gone in my absence. The conversation was a difficult one, because Tyler liked to interject his thoughts every ten to fifteen seconds.

“Mommy, you Woody,” he said, placing the Woody character into her hands. “You go sleep now.”

“Well, will you tell me a story?”

She placed Woody onto a pillow. The conversation that her and I were trying to continue was put on hold for the time being. We both waited for the story that Buzz Lightyear, Space Ranger, would tell to Woody, the rootinest, tootinest cowboy in the Wild Wild West.

“Upon a time. A big bad wolf not eat you. The end.”

It’s my new favorite story.

The scene: Dinner is almost ready. I’ve been in the camper for the last few hours, running some DC wiring and outlets. The new-to-us camper is going out on its inaugural camping trip in seven days, so I wanted to finish up the wiring and some other final preparations. In the span of time between me completing my project and dinner being ready, I asked Tyler if he’d like to come to the camper to see his very own, special fan. Tyler is very fond of the camper, and was more than eager to see something new in there, especially if it involves him. Tyler and I got comfortable on his end of the camper and talked about camping and somehow started talking about police cars.

A few moments later, Sarah joined us. She lay on the bed with us in the camper. Tyler snuggled with both of us and gave us both “snuggle kisses”. He’s been more affectionate lately and is giving us more and more unsolicited “I love you” comments. At this exact moment in time, life is very, very good.

Me: “Tyler! Who do you love?”

Tyler: “Ummm… Aunt JiJi.”

Me: “WHAT?!”

Sarah: *chuckling* “And who else, Tyler?”

Tyler: “Mommy!”

Sarah: “And?”

Tyler: “Lilah” (Our dog, Delilah.)

Sarah: “And?”

Tyler: “Luci-dog.” (Luci is a dog we are caring for while our friends are out of town.)

And where did I rank? After Aunt Acey and Uncle Darren. As a matter of fact, Tyler didn’t acknowledge his love for me until Sarah put the idea in the brat’s little head.

Sarah: “What about daddy?”

Tyler: “And daddy.”

We enjoy sitting at the dinner table, as a family, to eat our evening course. It was a difficult routine for me to get accustomed to. I grew up eating dinner while sitting on the floor of the living room and watching television. I’m not entirely sure if my entire childhood was this way, because I have an extremely foggy memory. The memories I do have, though, had me watching The A-Team, or M*A*S*H, or other 80′s entertainment while eating a delicious bowl of my mother’s goulash.

For Sarah, it was important to her that we eat as a family, at the table. I struggled against the change at first, but it’s now status quo in the house.

A few days ago, the sunlight angled into the kitchen and against the wall behind me at the dinner table. Inspiration struck! I told Tyler to look at the wall as I raised my hands. Within moments, the shadowed representation of my ten fingers transformed into a Doberman Pincer. For a moment, I fooled myself and had to look around. Convinced there were no other dogs in the room, I put my attention back on the wall. Time for sound effects to really show Tyler the magic I held.

As I moved my thumb down and up, I said “Bark bark bark bark bark!”

Apparently, Tyler didn’t see the ultra-realism in front of him, because he shouted, “COCK!”

I blinked. “What’d you say?”

“Cock. Cock cock cock cock CAWWWWWWWWWWWWK!”

“Tyler, I don’t think I unders-”

“COCK!”

I’m not sure how long Sarah knew what was truly happening. I suspect she knowingly allowed me to sweat for a few moments before speaking.

She said, “Yes, Tyler, that does look like a duck. Quack quack quack.”

“Cack,” he agreed.

I gave Sarah the ol’ stink-eye for a moment. Then, I turned back to my ultra-realistic duck and said, “Quack quack quack.”

Dinner is fun.

The scene: Tyler and I are hanging out. It’s a real scorcher outside, and Tyler is sitting on the floor with a cup of ice water. Presently, he is putting his hand into the cup, pulling out a piece of ice, and eating it. It’s getting close to dinner time, so I decide to ask Tyler about it.

Me: Do you want pizza?

It suddenly strikes me to cook the pizza outside on the grill. Now, I’m more excited than normal for the prospect of eating pizza. Tyler’s also a big fan of pizza, so this should be a guaranteed win for me.

Tyler: No, I drinking ice.

——————————————-

The scene: Tyler and I are playing in the house. Tyler got wrapped up in his barn animals and farm toys, and soon forgot that I was even there. Bored, I played a drum solo with my hands on the carpeted floor.

Me: *thump, thumb, bang bang bang thumpthumpthump*

Tyler: “Daddy, no say that daddy please.”

Me: *correcting Tyler’s grammar* “Daddy, please don’t do that.”

Tyler: “No no won’t no don’t no do that please daddy.”

Close enough, I guess.

——————————————-

The scene: Currently, the only time Tyler is allowed to have his pacifier is when he is napping. He doesn’t have it during the day, and he doesn’t have it while sleeping at night. I’ve set a hard line of him being completely done with the pacifier by his second birthday, so I’ve been telling him that pacifiers are for babies, and that Tyler isn’t a baby anymore.

I also have to introduce you to another character in the house. Abby Dabba is a stuffed dog that Tyler and I made at the Build-A-Bear store for Mother’s Day. When you squeeze his hand, he says – in Tyler’s recorded voice – “Happy Mommy’s Day, LUH-LOO!” Luh-loo is how Tyler said “I Love You” back when we made it. The dog’s name started as Abba Dabba, but Tyler soon changed it to Abby Dabba.

Abby Dabba is sitting on the top of the couch. Tyler spotted a pacifier lying around and tried putting it in his mouth. I promptly reminded him that he wasn’t a baby, and he wasn’t taking a nap. He then climbed onto the couch with it.

Tyler: “Abby Dabba have paci. Go sleep.”

Me: “You’re going to give Abby Dabba a paci so he can take a nap?”

After a few short moments of fiddling with the pacifier and with Abby Dabba, Tyler drops the pacifier onto the floor.

Tyler: “Abby Dabba no have a mouth.”

The scene: We’re at the dinner table (by the way, it seems that a lot of these “conversation” posts start this way), and I’m telling Sarah that one of the blogs that I read is going away because the writer doesn’t have time to keep it active.

Me: I need to write a post soon; I’ve been slacking.

Sarah: *nod*

Me: Hmmm… What to write about? Tyler, what should I write about?

Tyler: uhmmmmmm, eyebrows.

To drive the point home, Tyler puts one ketchup covered finger to each of his eyebrows. I thought about explaining to Tyler that, while I’m sure there are a couple people somewhere in the country that may find themselves reading a post about eyebrows, I just wasn’t too sure any of those readers were familiar with my site. Additionally, I’m not too sure I’d WANT them visiting my site. Instead, I told Tyler that I would attempt to find a way to write a post about eyebrows.

So, eyebrows.

The scene: Tyler, who has been, of late, very much in daddy-mode, is in my arms. He is melting my heart with a plethora of hugs and will not allow me to set him down. As such, I’m simply walking around the house, holding my son and quite eagerly accepting these hugs. I walk into the kitchen, where Sarah is working. She is making a new dish with noodles and sausage and lots more deliciousness. Presently, she is cutting a large, white onion.

Tyler: Uhnyin!

Sarah: Yes, Tyler, mommy is cutting an onion for dinner.

Tyler: TyTy have it.

At this point, Sarah rolls her eyes. I don’t see this happen, but after living with the queen of sarcasm and cynicism for nearly seven years, I can sense these things. Sometimes, I swear I can hear her eyes rolling at some lame joke of mine. The reason for the the eye rolling is two-fold. First, Tyler wants to “have” everything. He has only recently stopped asking to have mommy’s and daddy’s morning coffee. The second, and more significant reason is that I love… love… LOVE raw onions. I could eat handful upon handful of chopped raw onion. I have, actually. It has gotten to the point that I am warned at family dinners that “the onions are for EVERYONE, not just you.” Sarah, and probably everyone else that is commonly withing two feet of me, hates it. It turns out that no amount of telling those same folks the positive effects that consuming onions has on one’s heart and health can erase the negative effects they have on one’s breath.

Sarah handed Tyler and myself a sizable piece of onion, which we both promptly set to consuming.

Tyler: Spicy.

Me: Yeah… I guess you could call an onion spicy.

Tyler: More uhnyin peez (please).

Sarah, to me: I blame you for this.

Me: What?! Why?

Sarah: Don’t even.