Remember last Halloween? We went to a pumpkin patch, went for a hayride, picked pumpkins, and Tyler gutted and carved his very first pumpkin? Well, it was actually his second Halloween and pumpkin, but the first he’s had an active role in. And afterward, he smashed the pumpkins.
Well, right after we gutted the pumpkins, we all picked out a handful of seeds, cleaned them, dried them, and placed them in a baggie over the winter. Winter’s over and it’s time to plant those seeds now.
First, we made a hill for the seeds, or “baby pumpkins” as we were calling them. Then, we poked a hole in the top of the hill. Three seeds went into the hole. Once the plants sprout, we’ll thin them; meaning, we’ll pull the two weakest plants, and let the strongest grow in that hill. We made a total of three hills.
Once the seeds were placed into their new home, we filled the hole with dirt and patted it down. The hole was only about the size of a quarter and a couple inches deep.
After finishing this on the first hill, it was time to build the second hill. Spacing is important in gardening, especially when dealing with a plant that grows as aggressively as pumpkins tend to. We chose the spot for the next hill and started gathering dirt. We poked a hole, put three seeds in, filled the hole and patted it down again. Then, we did the same for the third and final planting location.
Sarah bought Tyler his very own watering can so that he can help with gardening this year. With all the seeds being nestled snugly in their beds, it was time to put use to the watering can. We filled Tyler’s watering can, and the larger one that Sarah and I use. As Tyler emptied his watering can, I filled it again and again from the larger one. The little stinker lost half his load to spillage just walking from the hose to the pumpkin patch.
To keep the plants moist, we need to put mulch down. This will help retain heat and moisture; keys to life in the plant world. Tyler and I retrieved our wheelbarrows. Both wheelbarrows are very old. Mine was handed down from my father-in-law, whom it was handed down to from his grandfather. Tyler’s used to belong to his mommy. Sarah’s dad brought it down last year, in very rough shape, to pass onto Tyler. After some sanding, painting, clear coating, and new hardware, it was as good as new. We got to work shoveling mulch into the wheelbarrows. Tyler picked up very quickly and had no qualms about the manual labor.
Tyler was pretty pooped after all the hard farming. Sarah took him in the house for a nap. Sarah wasn’t feeling that great as it was, so she took a nap as well. While they slept, I put up some chicken wire around the patch, and made a very special sign.
Ladies and gentlemen, I would like you to see Tyler’s very own pumpkin patch. He is very excited about it, and smiles every time we talk about his pumpkins. We haven’t had a chance to water the seeds because it’s been raining the last two days, and we just planted them three days ago. With any luck, we’ll be posting pictures around September or October of Tyler’s very own, homegrown, pumpkins.
I told Sarah that this was a “Daddy and Tyler project,” because I think it’s important that Tyler has specific “daddy time” and specific “mommy time” along with the family time that we spend together. I feel tinges of guilt about it because, on a level, I feel like I’m excluding Sarah. That’s not the case at all, and to be honest, I’d never be able to do anything like this were it not for her. Aside from the advice she’s given and some of the stuff I picked up from her gardening last year, I wouldn’t have ANY of the above pictures if she wasn’t there to take them for me. For that, I’m very grateful to have had her help.
Before the Nintendo Entertainment System blessed the world with its introduction, and completely blew me away with its advanced graphics and sounds, I spent my gaming time on the Atari 2600. Before I played the Atari, I watched people play the Atari. I watched as my big brother mastered Fast Eddie and Circus Atari. I watched as my big sister played Pitfall and Defender. Before that, I watched my parents play Kaboom.
Kaboom. A game that didn’t use the joystick. Instead, you plugged in the “paddles,” a steering wheel-like controller. The premise was simple. You were a stack of three tubs of water. Above you, a criminal dropped bombs. You steer the dial on the paddle left and right to catch the bombs. The criminal dropped ten bombs in the first round, twenty in the second, thirty in the third, and so on for ten rounds. You received one point per bomb caught in the first round, 2 each for the second, and so on up to 10 points per bomb in round ten. To make the game even more challenging, bombs were dropped faster and faster as the rounds progressed, becoming nearly blinding around the eighth round. Miss even a single bomb and you lose a barrel and go back one round.
It was my favorite game to watch. Not for the graphics nor for the premise of the game. Instead, I was hypnotized with the scoring. I don’t remember how young I was (maybe my mom will weigh in with a comment), but I would sit on the floor and try to race the scoring system. It was my goal to yell out score updates just before my parents caught the next bomb.
“1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. 6.. 7.. 8.. 9.. 10″
“12. 14. 16. 18. 20,” continuing to 50.
“53 56 59…”
You get the picture. Now that I’m a gamer myself, I realize that this had to play hell with my parents’ concentration. Of all the games my parents had (Space Invaders, Combat, Night Driver (we never owned Joust. Why would we not have Joust?)), my favorite game to “play” was called Atari Math. An equation appeared on the screen and the player had a limited amount of time – 10 to 20 seconds, if I remember correctly, depending on which setting you choose – to correctly display the answer using the joystick and the single red button.
And I loved it. Knowing that I could take two numbers and make a third by adding, subtracting, multiplying or dividing awed me. I don’t mean to brag, but I kicked ass at that game. I could even figure out remainder on the division problems. The timer was usually just an afterthought. It buzzed me a few times when a particularly difficult equation got the best of me though.
Twenty years later, plus some change, Sarah and my step-dad are playing a game (secret targets???) on the Nintendo Wii. It astounds me how much has changed. The Atari could display sixteen colors on the screen at any given time, and had a total palette of 128 colors, whereas current systems are capable of millions. Tyler will likely never know what an 8-bit or 16-bit system is. My step-dad is holding the controller like a bow, and pulling his arm back. A sensor captures every movement and displays a bow and arrow on the screen for him to aim at a target. *swish… THWAP*
“Seven,” the game voice-over announces.
Sarah steps up and takes aim, the screen mirroring even the most delicate movements of Sarah’s arm. While I reminisce about a system that had a controller with five inputs (up, down, left, right, and a button), Sarah’s motions are being tracked, wirelessly, on three different axes. *swish… THWAP*
The screen flashes to an instant replay of her near bulls-eye as the announcer shouts her score. “Nine.”
“Ninnne,” Tyler replies with enthusiasm.
My boy, I think. That’s my boy. If this doesn’t prove that he truly is his father’s son, I don’t know what does.
I have very few pictures of me as a young ‘un. As a matter of fact, I have exactly 6 pictures of me as a tyke. I happened across them today and it had me wondering exactly how much Tyler looks like I did when I was his size.

This last photo also has my two brothers and my sister. I’m the clown in the picture, literally.
And, in case you can’t remember what Tyler looks like (yeah, right)…

If all goes well, stay tuned for part two of this post, titled “Mommy as a baby”. Hopefully, I can get my hands on some baby pictures of Sarah (you smelling what I’m stepping in, Sarah? I’m saying that you better get me some pictures of you as a little ‘un. If you don’t you’ll have to face the wrath of my readers! They’re a feisty bunch, they are!).
I’m trying to live in a world where I don’t view this as bad parenting… but…
Delilah has a bit of a quirk that Sarah and I have exploited, much to our my amusement. Whenever she is introduced to something she has never seen before, Delilah tends to be wary of it. What I do, at that point, is start chasing her around the house with said object. Here, just watch this video.
It appears that Tyler may have picked up on this little “game” of mine. And he seems to love it as much as I do.
Delilah and Tyler are loving each other more and more every day. He’s finally getting to the age where he can play, and Delilah couldn’t be happier with that.
Note: The first video was shot two months after we brought Delilah home with us. She was found next to a dumpster by a couple college girls and they couldn’t keep her at their apartment. We adopted her. She was severely underweight at the time, and was still quite underweight at the time of the video. She looks much healthier (pure freakin’ muscle) now, as you can see in the second video.
Sarah and I used to have a Friday night date night every week. It was a great time to just spend quality time with each other over dinner and drinks and feel less like husband and wife, and more like two lovers on a date. FNDN is teetering on extinction now that we have the responsibilities of raising a new life.
We are blessed to have an extremely well-mannered baby, and have been able to take Tyler with us to dinner quite a few times. It’s a modified FNDN – less about just Sarah and I – but it’s still nice to get out of the house together, even if we do have a third wheel with us. We had a FNDN yesterday. I spent much of the day hanging up a privacy fence (and received a wicked sunburn as a result) and felt like it was deserved. We went to a restaurant called Mad Anthony’s.
Our waitress’ name was Sheila. She is an attractive, punky-looking girl, with a piercing in her lip. At one point, she asked how my drink was. I told her it was quite good and she would have to try it when she turns 21. She looked like a junior in high school, but she informed me that she recently celebrated her 22nd birthday.
A few minutes later, she was waiting on the table next to us. It was occupied by three blue-collar guys who appeared to work at the local factory. Sheila’s back was to us while she took their orders. Tyler turned to look at her stare at her… then proceeded to reach out and grab her butt.
The dudes at the table next to us told Tyler “way to go” and asked for high fives from him. Looking back, I’m surprised that I wasn’t mortified about him grabbing her butt, but I actually thought it was hilarious. Sarah made a comment about Sheila being a cougar at 22. I didn’t say anything aloud, but thought to myself, “That’s my boy.”
The moment we got in the car, Sarah – who didn’t bring her cell phone – said, “Dial Melanie and give me your phone.”
I did as ordered. After a couple seconds, Sarah said, “I have to tell you what Tyler just did.”
After telling the story to her BFF, Sarah turned to me and said “Melanie said ‘he is his father’s son.’”
Indeed.