Peter The Tank Engine

Meet Thomas, Peter’s new obsession. Thomas has been around for a long time, but Peter hasn’t, so it’s all very new and exciting to him. A day or so ago I would have thought “obsession” was a strong word for Peter’s interest, but last night he wouldn’t sit in his high chair for dinner without having his Thomas toy with him (and then he fed it, too) and he also refused to let go of the toy when being put to bed. At least 20 times a day, Peter will hum the “toot-toot” whistle noise that plays during the Thomas videos, usually when he’s playing with one of his many train toys.

His Granny got him a couple DVDs of Thomas for Christmas, and it’s fair to say that he likes them a lot. He knows where they are most of the time, and will emphatically ask for them whenever the mood suits him. I know it will probably pass, but the DVDs just cycle through about 6 stories repeatedly, so if you leave it playing it could literally loop the stories over and over until we lose power to the house. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, but since it’s a kids’ video it has nice little sing-along songs for the kids to join in on the merriment. Kids’ songs that, if played over and over even just a few times, get lodged in a Dad’s head much like a stalactite dropping from a cavern’s ceiling, piercing the unsuspecting visitor’s cranium. Those songs are also sung by British kids, even when everything else is dubbed by American voices. I’m expecting The Boy to start emulating those kids and speaking like a little Nigel instead of Peter. He’ll probably be using British usage of the language, too, like saying he’s “cross” instead of angry. Then he’ll want all his food boiled to within an inch of total blandness. And kippers. He’ll want them, too.

And did I mention he has a Thomas toothbrush, too? Plays music, 2 minutes worth. And you can’t shut it off.

I don’t want to sound like I don’t like Thomas, I do. It’s a nice little entertainment for kids that doesn’t involve glamorized violence or overt marketing (buuut, if you need some merchandise…). There is, however, and inverted dosing scale that needs to be adhered to, whereby the bigger you are, the smaller your healthy allowance is. Peter, small guy that he is, can take a whole day’s worth of looping Thomas stories and suffer no ill effects. Me being a big guy, I start twitching uncontrollably after an hour.

Now, as parents, we will keep an eye open at all times for anything Thomas, so that we can lavish him with all the Thomasalia he could ever want. And then, when we hit critical mass, he will turn his back on Thomas and all the tons of stuff we got him. I understand how the game is played. Toot-toot.

Some Pix

Peter's Christmas

Peter was wise enough to understand that when people are putting trees inside their houses and lights outside their houses that something is up. He must have also remembered those big parties that he went to when he was 7 months old. Whatever it was, he knew he was going to have some fun.

 

Monday, December 22nd saw us scrambling in the evening to get out to the post office in time to mail out our Christmas cards so they'd get to people before they became belated Christmas cards. While Mommy and Daddy were busy fixing the pictures to the cards and getting the cards stuffed into their envelopes, Peter was wandering around the lobby, doing what he always does – attracting attention. Fortunately, we were not the only procrastinators, and another Daddy with two little girls came to drop off their family's cards. Little Jackie and Caroline were 3 ½ and 2 years old apiece, and they liked Peter. To say they lavished attention on him would be an understatement. They gave him hugs and kisses aplenty, and when it was time for them to go they protested that, no, they wanted to stay with Peter. Peter, I'm sure, would have liked them to stay, but he didn't protest much because he was in something of a daze by that point.

 

Tuesday the 23rd was another snowy day and was also a day of preparation for the coming two days. I had to go out to the mall in the evening to pick up some stuff while Mommy did some baking. When I got back I was greeted with the sight of Peter helping her work. He did some mixing and other helpful things, but was very good and very focused on his work. He's a good boy, that Peter.

 

Wednesday, Christmas Eve. The day was to be broken into two parts: Brunch with Grandpa, Grandma and Aunt Sarah in the morning chez Pierre, then over to Auntie Trucker's in the evening. Peter had an enjoyable time at the brunch, charming and delighting everyone. He got an adjustable backboard as a present, and after the brunch he had an excellent time getting everyone to help him do acrobatic slam dunks, as the net was still a little too high for him. His energy level did run low in the early afternoon, however, and he wound up taking a good 2 hour nap. When he woke up we all went to his Aunt's house, and he spent about 5 hours running around, playing with his cousins. But when time came to open presents, we learned something new about Peter. If you give him the gift of clothing, he gets upset. Really upset. Like offended-fundamentalist upset. You thought you gave him a nice sweater? No, that was a slap in the face. Fortunately he was able to run around after that so his mood didn't go too far to the South. Of course, when it came time to go, Mr. Angry came out again, but at least he fell asleep within minutes of being put in the car.

 

Thursday, Christmas Day. We were up around 8:30 in the morning, and out to church for 10:15 mass in no time. After mass we went back to Auntie Tucker's house before people moved on in different directions, and again loading Peter back into the car was not fun as he was more interested in playing. We took him home and put him down for a nap, and again he was out cold for a couple hours. After he woke up we drove out to Auntie Vi's house to drop off some stuff from our car, and when his Mom delivered that stuff (and left him in the car with his Dad) Peter got upset again. Was it because Mommy left us for a couple minutes, or was it because he knew his cousins were inside? Both? Anyway, Mommy came back and we drove over to his Granny's house for dinner with Granny and Aunt Sarah. Once we pulled up in front of her house Peter again lit up. Peter played with the kitties and was his normal charming self. And luckily for him he didn't get any clothes as presents (interestingly, his parents "got" very small outfits that might not fit them, but maybe they'd fit Peter? Hmmmm.). A good time was had by all, and, again, Peter was asleep in the car within minutes of us leaving.

 

Now, on to recovery…

Aid, Assistance, Support...

Peter is a helpful boy. When we are making dinner, he reaches up and tries to do what he can to help out. Of course, he can’t really see much of what is being done, but his hands will reach up and grab onto whatever they can get. Onions, garlic, knives – you name it, he’ll grab it. Sometimes he can even recognize what he grabs as trash and will take it over to the trash can and dump it.

 

Last night I was in the living room folding his laundry, and he decided to help by grabbing the folded laundry and moving it over to the floor by the Christmas tree, making one big pile of (mostly) folded clothes.

 

And on Saturday I was replacing an older two-prong outlet with a new three-prong outlet, and he grabbed one of my screwdrivers and started poking it at the outlets like I was. Let’s just say I’m glad I wasn’t doing anything with the hammer at the time.

 

And they’re calling for more snow this week, so I’m sure he’ll be out there again with his shovel. Helping.

Snow. Snow. Snow. More snow. Snow again. Snowsnowsnow. Snoooooooooow.

Yesterday was a snowy day (but not a Snow Day, at least not for me), and per the morning news this morning I saw that we’re already 3 inches ahead of where we were last year – when we had the 2nd snowiest winter in recorded history. It makes me wonder why we didn’t buy a condo instead of a house.

 

Anyway, I was out shoveling for a couple hours last night, and his mom brought Peter out so the whole family could clear the driveway. It was an awful mess, thanks to the hours of sleet and freezing rain that fell before the snow. There was at least an inch of hard, compacted slush below the wet snow. Each full shovel felt like it weighed about 10 pounds. Peter was wise enough to dump his little shovel and just pick up a chunk of ice here and there and toss it onto the mounds of moved snow. Last week when we had him out in the snow he removed his mittens within a minute of them being put on, or put on again. Last night he figured out that mittens on his hands make his fingers not get cold, and they work better when the thumb is up in its little slot. So he was able to stay out longer and play more than last time. He did fine for 20-30 minutes and then he took a header face-first into the snow when he stepped off the driveway onto the neighbors’ lawn. He didn’t cry or anything, but he got a face full of snow and his mittens and boots were pretty much covered, also. At this point I took him back inside and got him out of the wet snowsuit.

 

At that point I was ready for dinner that Peter’s mom had prepared while I did my Sisyphean shoveling. I offered some to Peter, but he shook his head emphatically while pointing at the round tin on the table. I asked him “Do you want a cookie?” and he lit up and started nodding just as emphatically as he had been shaking it 10 seconds before. So I gave him a bit of a cookie, and when that was gone tried to give him some more of the casserole. Shake shake shake! Cookie? Nod nod nod! When Peter’s mom came in she asked me if he ate, and I told her that he didn’t want the casserole, but he did want the cookie. She then apologized and said it was her fault (score!) because she had given him one before taking him out to shovel. For a second I was worried that I was the one who had corrupted him. Sweet.

19 Months

Peter is now 19 months old, as of 9:04 this morning. I'm not sure how we are going to celebrate, as it's currently snowing again (for the 3rd or 4th time in 10 days or so), and we're supposed to get 4-6 inches by the time it's over. I'd take him outside tonight to make a snowman, but I'll be shoveling. Besides, I'm not sure where we packed his snowpants. There's also the ear infection thing - I don't know if that's a good thing out in the snow. Oh, well. Maybe I'll just get a cake.

Holidays already?

Last Thursday was Thanksgiving, and after a morning visit from his Grammy and Aunt Sarah (and a nap) we tossed Peter into the car and headed out to West Allis, where his Aunt Vi was hosting the annual shindig on his mom’s side. We got there at about 1:30, and the dinner was scheduled to be served in the early afternoon, and Peter wasted no time in demanding to be fed. This would be the trend of the day for him, as he spent the next 9 hours or so eating everything that wasn’t nailed down, to everyone’s amazement. He has turkey (of course), stuffing, sweet potatoes, wild rice, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, pumpkin cheesecake, chex mix, peanuts, a croissant, and I’m pretty sure he had some of the paella, too. And I should also mention that he was the only one of the three of us to have breakfast. Peter’s mom wasn’t all that surprised by this, as she said he does like to graze all day. However, “grazing” does not cause the air pressure in the house to drop to the point where the chance of precipitation increases inside because of a toddling epicenter.

 

Anyway, when he wasn’t eating he was playing with his cousins, having a great time without an afternoon nap. But of course, by the end of the evening this will make Peter a tired boy, even if he wants to stay up all night and play. So when he saw people starting to get ready to go, out came the lip and tears. At least he fell asleep in the car after only a minute of driving.

 

The next day we took Peter to get his hair cut, as he was getting a little shaggy up top. Actually, we were torn about it somewhat, since he would wake up sometimes with this great messy rock-star hair do that looked great on him. But common sense won out and he lost several pounds of hair. He was distraught to start out, but after 10 minutes his fear turned into simple annoyance. After he was done he looked like a whole new kid. The really good part about it is that we can see his eyebrow and forehead expressions a lot better, and they are quite the sight to see.

 

Then Saturday afternoon Peter started getting a slight fever. He seemed recovered Sunday morning when we were scheduled to go out to Madison for a cousins Christmas photo shoot. But the fever did come back while we were there (Mr. Model wasn’t that happy a camper this time, likely due to the illness), and it got higher in the evening after we got home.

 

He made a quick visit to the doctor yestareday, were we learned that he had a double ear infection, likely caused by the cold he had a few weeks before plugging up the fluid tubes in his ears. He has a perscription for antibiotics, which he really doesn’t care for, and Motrin to control his fever. But when the fever is under control he’s his normal self, which is a good thing.

A Quick Blurb

I haven't been ignoring the blog or anything, but we moved a couple weeks ago and every minute not at the office has been devoted to house-related stuff and sleep. We've made a lot of progress on the house, it now looks almost nothing like it was when we first saw it. Peter really likes the house, too. He got lots of time inside it before we moved in, so it wasn't a big shock to him when he found himself spending all his time here. He's also found that he likes to stare into the open refrigerator and pull out juice or any other thing he can get his hands on.

 

We also got DirecTV, which has a bunch of channels with XM radio playing. Peter is hooked on channel 844, The Groove. It's funk and R&B, and Peter loves that stuff. He'll shake his rump on his own if he has to, but he still prefers me to do the work for him. This was fine before when he was smaller, but he's not exactly the runt of the litter and my left knee is griping at me from all the bouncing. I think the tendon is stretching out. I'm not a doctor, so it could be a torn ACL, too. Or knee gangrene.

Halloween 2 - The Revenge of Peter

Peter was much more into the annual rite of disguised extortion than last year. Last year he couldn’t walk on his own, so he was at the mercy of his dad’s slow walk carrying him from house to house. This year Peter was self-propelled, and he took off on his own (well, as far as we let him). His costume this year was an ode to the finery of yesteryear, when polyester leisure suits adorned the men’s catwalks of Paris and Milan. And a wig. Yes, Peter was dressed as a disco dancing love muffin. The wig, though, wasn’t so much disco as it was funk, so we called him Bootsy for the day.

As I said, he took off on his own. Since it was rather chilly we had mittens on him, so he couldn’t grab the pumpkin bag that held his loot. He still held it, but hooked on his forearm like it was a purse. We soon came upon a house with an Obama sign out front, and he gladly posed next to it. He took us all around a big block, perkily going from house to house until it was time to get back inside and thaw.

He got many compliments on his fine accoutrements. He loved seeing the other kids in costumes. He had a whole lotta fun. It’s only unfortunate that it was as cold as it was, because underneath his costume he had 3 or 4 layers, and he wound up being on the stiff side. And with that stiffness, if you are a toddler who likes to pick up things that you find on a lawn, you are at risk of bending over stiffly to pick up a twig, and keeling over due to your lack of flexibility. Then you find yourself (stiffly) writhing on the grass, just like Randy in A Christmas Story. Minus the snow bank.

Well, the really nice thing about taking an almost 18-month-old kid out trick-or-treating is that they get into the process. Y’know, the process, as in going out in a costume with a bunch of other kids. As parents, Peter’s Mom and I get the payoff, a small haul of candy that I told Peter he could eat provided he could get the wrapper off (I am a cruel, cruel father - but hey, the offer still stands). Look, I love my boy, but if he gets sugared up I am not going to get any sleep for at least 36 hours. Peter is a real Popeye when he gets his spinach, so as Bluto-slash-Daddy, I gotta figure out a way to keep the spinach in the can, y’dig?

Anyway, Bootsy isn’t totally in the past yet. We have a party on Saturday where the whole family will (gulp) disco like disco never went the way of disco. Yeah. Disco. You know, it sounded so much better in an abstract way, and now I have to dress like I have actual Saturday Night Fever. Rockin’ Pneumonia? No, and a shot of Rhythm & Blues wouldn’t do me any good. One of these years we’ll have to do a Jolly Green Giant and Sprout combo. At least that isn’t as embarrassing.

Fall Pics