learning | Irrational Dad

Melmo and ah-ah

September 28th, 2009 | Posted by Joe in conversations | learning | teaching | Tyler - (7 Comments)

“Tyler, this is a sheep. Sheep. A sheep says ‘bahhhh’. Can you say ‘bahhhh’?”

“Ba.”

The above is an example of how we introduce animals to Tyler. My thought process is that, when you have a baby (obviously, Tyler was still a baby when we started talking to him about animals) who can barely manage single sounds, it would make more sense to have him say “ba,” then “bah,” then “bahhhhh” than it would be to try and get him to say “sheep”. Especially when he can’t even make the “sh” sound yet.

Lately, I’ve found myself wondering if my approach was the right one…

Tyler is in love with two inanimate objects. The first is Monkey. Monkey is a stuffed animal.

“This is a monkey. A monkey says ‘ooo oo AHH AHH’.”

“Ah.”

“Good job, buddy! You’re the smartest baby on the planet!” And yes, I really have said that once or twice.

Tyler’s second favorite is the bane of my existence. Elmo. I hate Elmo. He has a stupid voice, stupid red fur, and is stupidly annoying. I won’t delve into the reasons for my hatred of Elmo *cough*commercialism*cough*. And although that little red thing has wormed his way into Tyler’s heart despite my best attempts to prevent it, rest assured that I plan to never personally purchase anything “Elmo”.

For whatever reason, Tyler can not (or will not) say “Elmo”. He can, however, say “Melmo”.

I walked into his room recently after he had awakened from a nap to find all of the contents of his crib on his floor. On these occasions, I find myself wondering why he would throw all that stuff out when he knows he’s just going to want it back, and then I shudder in fear of the thought that this is all a precursor to a forthcoming crib-prison escape. I sometimes think I should put a couple pillows on the floor to catch his fall when he is finally able to climb over the rail, but wouldn’t that just make me an enabler or, at the very minimum, an accomplice to the crime? *Mental note: It’s time to lower his mattress again.*

“Did you have a good nap, buddy?” I asked in an accopella tone.

“Ya.”

“Good,” I said, as I pulled him from the crib and carried him towards the door.

Tyler turned, pointed at the floor and said, “Melmo.”

In the most agreeable voice I could muster while scowling at the object of Tyler’s pointing, I told Tyler that we had, indeed, forgotten Melmo, and thanked him for reminding me. As I attempted to walk out of the room for the second time, Tyler repeated his action and said, “Ah Ah!”

“Oh yes. We forgot Monkey too. Let’s go back and get him. You know, Tyler, if you hadn’t thrown them out of your crib in the first place, we wouldn’t need to do all this extra work to get your babies.”

“Ya.”

He seems to have a pretty good grasp on what yes and no mean, so I’m operating on the likely misguided thought that he really grasped what I was explaining to him^[1].

Once we were downstairs and had finished wrestling around – which mostly involves me picking Tyler up and throwing him onto the couch – I sat Tyler down to school him on something. I held monkey up and said, “Tyler, who is this?”

“Ah Ah!”

“No, that is the sound a monkey makes. This is a monkey. Mon-key.”

Silence from Tyler.

“Okay… Can you say ‘mon’?”

“Muh.”

“Good job. Now say ‘key’.”

“Kih.”

“PERFECT! Now say ‘monkey’.”

“Ah Ah!”

[1] Proven to be incorrect the very next day.

Don’t touch THAT!

Why not?

That’s the question I asked myself a few days ago.

When I started high school, I was placed in classes for “gifted students”, presumably, because I was smart. On the first day of classes, one of my teachers wrote a word on the chalkboard.

“Anyone who answers this question correctly goes up a letter grade at the end of the semester,” he said.

We all looked at the board and were perplexed at the simplicity of the question.

“Why?” the board read.

The answer the teacher was looking for was “why not?” It went against everything I’ve learned regarding answering a question with a question, but it was the answer he wanted to see.^[1]

So, when Tyler was having one of his I-cannot-be-separated-from-my-daddy-for-even-a-second-or-else-I-will-start-screaming-my-head-off moments as I walked into the bathroom to “make my peeps come”^[2], I said to myself, “Why not?”

*sigh*

I’m the type of guy that views the bathroom as private time (unless Sarah is doing her make-up. We try to fit the entire family in there when that’s going on, which I’m sure she just loves). I don’t let Sarah watch me, uhhh, conduct business in there, and I certainly wouldn’t watch her do the same. Unfortunately, I can’t just sit down at the table with Tyler and explain how to make peeps and poops in the potty. As a result, I know I’ve got to – at some point – allow Tyler into the bathroom with me to witness how the big boys make the magic happen.

So, why not, Tyler? Come on in and watch daddy bring the rain (pun intended. That one was for you, Mel).

To my female readers, I won’t get graphic here, but if you don’t know how peeing works for guys, let’s just say that, at any given time, at least one hand is occupied. You may be thinking that having one hand free would be sufficient in keeping control of the situation. I’m here to tell you that it is not.

As soon as Tyler saw me raise the lid of the toilet seat, he had to be right there. He leaned a bit to see what was inside of the mysterious ceramic bowl, which put me in the delicate position of trying not to piss on my son’s head. Tyler must have thought the view wasn’t good enough, because he placed his hands on the rim of the toilet bowl and leaned further in. If we were playing the $25,000 Pyramid right now, “stopping mid-stream” falls into the category of “things that cannot be done” and frankly, I was so horrified that Tyler just put his hands on, arguably, the most disgusting thing in any household that I just didn’t care if I gave him a golden shower anymore.

With terror and disgust in my voice, I yelled, “GROSS!! DON’T TOUCH THAT!”

To Tyler, this roughly translated to, “SHOUT!! I’M YELLING THINGS THAT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!”

Using my free hand, I attempted to push Tyler away. This didn’t work, because – with me standing and Tyler leaning – my hand just brushed the top of his hair. Instead, I jutted my right knee out and pushed him with my leg. I felt like a Ghost Buster, trying to set the Ecto Trap and still not cross the streams of our Proton Packs. Or in my case, not pee on my son.

Worried that he may try to get into the toilet again, I maintained the awkward pose of peeing while keeping my right leg out in between Tyler and the toilet. He didn’t try again. No, Tyler chose to focus his attention on something else. “Something else” being the very thing that defines me as a father and not a mother. My discomfort of the situation was reaching levels I didn’t know to be possible. I didn’t know what to do, so I concentrated on finishing things up as quickly as possible. I ignored the look of awe and amazement and wonderment on Tyler’s face, and forged ahead.

After what felt like an eternity, I zipped up. Tyler looked up at me, as if waiting for an explanation on what the heck he just witnessed. All I could muster was the look that you give a stranger on an elevator. The look where you raise your eyebrows and smile without opening your mouth or showing any teeth.

“Tyler, let’s never speak of this again.”

“DA.”

I’m choosing to believe that, based on his tone and inflection, Tyler said, “Sure thing, pop. Do you know if the Imagination Movers have a new CD out yet? Whaddya say we get the heck out of this bathroom and find out?”

Why not, Tyler? Why not?

[1] The majority of the class, including myself, wrote “because” on a piece of paper and turned it in. Others wrote paragrahs and pages, going on and on about creationism, or God, or something. Nobody answered with “why”.

[2] Ever since Sarah and I became dog owners five years ago, we’ve used the terms “peeps” and “poops” when asking Logan, and then Delilah, when she joined our family, if they had business to do.

Got to keep on movin’

The first time Tyler went to Grandma and Grandpa McLain’s house (my parents), he made his first crawls. It was awesome to watch. Luckily, Grandpa loves having an excuse to bring the camcorder – which never seems to have a charged battery – out.

Although my parents aren’t the most tech savvy people I know, they still managed to burn the video to a DVD and sent it to me via manila envelope. Subsequently, Sarah and I have taken videos of Tyler crawling around the house, which I’ve posted to YouTube. One video was actually sent in to America’s Funniest Videos, so I’m not allowed to post it here, or talk about it, yet. The video of Tyler’s first crawls somehow never made its way online… Until now.

**** Errr… Nope, the video isn’t available. There were some technical difficulties with the disc that the video was recorded to. ****

We went to Canada two weekends ago (the weekend previous to Memorial Day weekend) for the wedding of one of Sarah’s cousins. Driving back from Canada, the GPS had us passing through my hometown of Flint, Michigan. My parents still live there, in my mom’s childhood home, so we stopped by to visit and stretch. Tim, my awesome step-dad, got the camera out to take some pictures. Dead batteries. Tim then got the camcorder out to take some video. Dead batteries. But, that was remedied with a power adapter, and a little bit of a guilt trip from the rest of us.

Tyler eventually made his way to the refrigerator and, more specifically, the magnets on it. Leaning against the side of the fridge were two food trays. You know what I’m talking about, right? They fold open and closed like an ironing board, allowing one to eat food while sitting on a couch. They’re quite handy, unless you’re a ten month old baby and they are standing between you and the magnets you so desperately desire. Tyler stood there, hands on the folded trays, when they did the thing that the ladder did in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. In the movie, Clark Griswold is standing on a ladder and hanging Christmas lights from his house. He inadvertently staples his shirt sleeve to the house and, when he yanks himself free, the ladder upon which he is standing pulls away from the house. It sways to the precarious point where you’re not sure if it’s going to fall backward or safely to its original position against the house. This is what was happening with Tyler.

I watched this happen, knowing that I could, potentially, have a very upset baby, and yet I did nothing. Generally speaking, if it won’t result in a hospital visit or expensive property damages, I let Tyler learn the consequences of his actions. I said something to that effect, and I fear I’m coming across on the video as an uncaring parent. The thing is, I viewed that as a controlled environment. I was there, and I knew that the worst that would happen would be a bump on Tyler’s head. I don’t want him to learn that lesson from pulling on a heavy TV or a dresser or bookcase that isn’t tethered to a wall. Those consequences could be disastrous. And, yes, I am spilling all this here in the hopes that you, dear readers, will validate my thought process.

My mom couldn’t stand by and allow the shenanigans to unfold, so she pulled the trays away. This left Tyler balancing on his own, with nothing to hold onto. This is nothing new, as Tyler stands on his own quite often. But, instead of falling to the ground and crawling to the fridge, like he always does, Tyler WALKED to it!!!! His first real steps were caught on video!

Video not playing? Want to view it larger? Watch it on YouTube by clicking here.

I simply find it amazing that a ten month old baby would make the decision to try to take a step, especially when he knows that it would be easier to just crawl. Parental pride aside, watching a baby think and make decisions and try new things is… well… "amazing" is the only word I can think of.

So, Tyler’s first crawls and his first walks were at my parents’ house. And, the latter probably wouldn’t have happened if my mom hadn’t taken the food trays away. It’s interesting how things work out.

The Next Great Adventure is Over the Mountain

I have delayed this post as long as I could. Sarah wanted to blog about it when it happened. I told her that she’d better do so soon, else I would do so without remorse.

Tyler will be 9 months old tomorrow. I really don’t know where the time has gone. It seems like just yesterday that he was born. Don’t worry though, dear readers, I will not be posting a mushy stream of thought about how fast time is moving, and how I don’t want to miss anything, and blah blah blah. I’ll wait until he’s a year old before I do that.

This story began about 3 weeks ago. Sarah called to tell me that she took her eyes off Tyler for just a minute. During that small window of opportunity, Tyler climbed up one of the steps leading to the second floor. I sighed, because I knew it was time to buy another baby gate. We already have one that we use to keep Tyler out of the kitchen and away from Delilah’s water dish. I wanted to get one that had a door that we could swing open so that I wouldn’t have to step over it every time I walked from room to room. I made the classic mistake of not measuring before I bought it. The gate wasn’t nearly wide enough to fit in the stairway without some modifications. As a result, the gate didn’t go up right away.

Later that evening or the following evening, Sarah ran to the store while i played with Tyler. Tyler’s been somewhat needy for his mommy lately, so I had to take Tyler from room to room to show him that his mother wasn’t home. Crying, he crawled to the stairs and put his hands on the first step. I’m not sure what a good parent would have done in that situation. On one hand, it’s probably not a good idea for a baby to play by the stairs. On the other hand, anything he does right now is helping him learn, so who am I to take that away from Tyler? Plus, I was right there, so what could go wrong? Tyler climbed two stairs. The “on one hand” side of my brain barked at me to get him off the stairs before he kills himself. My God, Joe, he’s so high up right now!! If he were to fall from that height, the results would be disastrous! I grabbed Tyler from the stairs and begged him to never scare me like that again.

Later, I decided that the “on one hand” part of my brain was being a vagina and that the “on the other hand” part of my brain had it right by letting him learn stairs. At least under our supervision. While Sarah was upstairs, I grabbed the camcorder and called Tyler to the foot of the stairs with me.

”Go get your mommy.”

Sarah was less than pleased when she appeared at the top of the staircase, but “on the other hand” is a persuasive little turd. She compromised by coming halfway down the stairs. Tyler was being needy for his mommy and crying for her. And…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqDxg6DYprQ

Even later that evening, Tyler climbed the entire staircase, with no assistance at all.

A couple days ago, while Sarah was shopping, I decided that I needed a better shot of Tyler’s mountain climbing skills. So, I set the tripod at the top of the stairs and used Delilah as the bait up there. Why do I have so many bad ideas when there is no estrogen in the house?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoqLPnO1Kzo