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.

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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.

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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.”