Author: The Nack Daddy

If Henry someday shoots, I dunno, let’s say President Boehner, people will ask, “Gee, did you ever see it coming?” And everyone who knows Hen will quickly answer, “Oh yes, that’s all he talked about: ‘Getboehner, getboehner, getboehner…!'” In other words, the G-Man gets *reeeeal* focused and obsessive.

Lately he’s utterly focused on garbage cans (pronounced “kahns!!”). For the last couple of weeks he’s constantly begged to go to the window (“Blue one! Black one! Wheels! Tip over! Oh *no*!!”), go outside to push, pull, and inspect cans (“Empty! Water! GarBAAZH!”), and generally discuss them at length. He was so sad when the neighbors finally rolled in their cans, mourning them like phantom limbs. When the baby monitor crackled to life this morning, “Kahns!!” was the first word out of his mouth. And after our little morning visit, he spotted Margot’s Kandinsky print (see above) and announced, “Kahns!!”

So, to any Secret Service folks who might end up reading this, just remember: Keep the kid stocked in Rubbermaid & we’ll have no problems!

The gents and I just wrapped a fun bachelors’ weekend as Mom-O jetted off to New York for a few days with her friend Alethea. Saturday saw us logging major time at multiple parks (chase those hens, Hen! wait, they’re chasing you!), while on Sunday we helped pals Bettie & Quade celebrate their third birthday (complete with some piñata-whacking by Finn). A few pics and videos to follow soon, I hope.

The notable thing is just how independent Finn has started to get. I’m used to Henry rocketing off and/or playing by himself, but Finn has tended to stick to me like white on rice. At the park, however, he cruised off on his own towards some play equipment, leaving his brother and me stranded (sandwich bits strewn all over) out of sight. Once we regained contact, he chose to keep playing on a rather distant slide while the G-Man bounded off elsewhere. And at the party on Sunday, he’d periodically go off and explore with trucks and other toys for what felt like 10+ minutes at a time. Inevitably he’d have little existential freak-outs and start tearfully calling for me, but on the whole he’s really taking new steps.

I write all this solo, appropriately enough, from a gorgeous spot just across the Golden Gate from SF. I’m here for an off-site work event, and I could swear someone has set up outdoor speakers to pipe in seagull chatter and fog horns (nautical authenticity a go-go!). It’s a nice breather from SoloDad duty, but it’ll be nice to give the independence a rest and get the gang back together tomorrow.

When it comes to writing a blog, you’re sometimes advised things like, “Be Yourself, Only Better… Don’t share every little facet of your life, only the charming parts.” On the whole that makes sense, but it can feel a little misleading. That’s why I found this observation insightful:

“Any parent who has posted photos and videos of her child on Facebook is keenly aware of the resulting disconnect from reality, the way chronicling parenthood this way creates a story line of delightfully misspoken words, adorably worn hats, dancing, blown kisses. Tearful falls and tantrums are rarely recorded, nor are the stretches of pure, mind-blowing tedium. We protect ourselves, and our kids, this way; happiness is impersonal in a way that pain is not. But in the process, we wind up contributing to the illusion that kids are all joy, no effort.”

Or, as famous mom-blogger Heather Armstrong described childbirth, “It Sucked and Then I Cried.”

Anyway, we couldn’t be crazier about our guys, and as they get older (and the days longer and the weather warmer), things are only getting better. I just wanted to acknowledge that we do have our ups and downs. And now, back to chronicling the delightfully misspoken words! 🙂

This whole parenting racket can be a grind, but then the guys do some terrific bit that just blows us away.

Last night I had to attend a work function that ran surprisingly late. I was able to scramble and get home just in time to tuck in Finny. He dubbed himself “Thomas” and me “James,” and we laid in our little shed (his darkened bed) talking about our railway adventures. That’s when the laying on of crazy love-bombs commenced. Tipping over, he spontaneously embraced me and said, “I love you! I love hugging you, I love hanging out with you, I love playing with you…!” And when I explained how I’d hurried home, he shot his hands up in the air and exclaimed, “Hooray for James!!” At which point my heart nearly exploded. 😀

Hen, not to be outdone, has been getting more and more playful and chatty. Here’s his novel interpretation of how to use a chef’s hat!