The boys didn’t actually puke during our Monday trip to Dennis the Menace Park—but it wasn’t for lack of trying!
We enjoyed another great trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, getting up close and… personal? (gelatinous?) with the jellyfish:
We can’t say we weren’t warned…
Although Finny is really enjoying his newfound status as a kindergartener, and loving his after school daycare, the transition into the new reality has definitely been a bumpy ride. His days are long, and full of new activities, new kids, a new teacher, and of course, tons and tons of stimuli. As is his nature, he’s a very positive, happy kid. He does really well during the week and is super-enthusiastic about going to school. He’s also very chatty about what he does at school, and is proud of sharing his worksheets and art projects from class.
That said…man, at the end of the day, and especially on the weekends, he goes completely Jekyll and Hyde, and the nuclear meltdowns over minor incidents are intense and numerous. The past two Saturdays have been ROUGH. It seems to take him about a day to completely unwind from the week at school, and during those 24 hours, there is a LOT of complaining, freaking out, and grumpiness. He’s got a hair-trigger, and when Henry runs afoul of him (for instance, by playing with one of Finny’s previously-ignored toys) or when he gets frustrated, he just turns into a crying, screaming wreck. And it takes him a looooong time to work it out of his system.
We’re all doing our best, and John and I both let Finny know that it’s ok to get frustrated or feel tired/sad/angry, but it’s not OK to just let it rip on everyone in your path. And we know that Finny doesn’t enjoy these episodes, either…and that he’ll work his way through them eventually. So goes any transition to a “new normal,” right? Right?!
Our boy Henry has become well known amongst our friends for the “Henry Face.” He’s reliably grumpy about something or another when we’re out having a good time – like at birthday parties, the pool, holiday celebrations, you name it. In fact, our friend Shay’s daughter Tegan started making The Face herself after watching Henry melt down at his brother’s preschool graduation ceremony (“No one is playing with me, Mom-o! No one is paying attention to me!”). Our friends love to snap photos of Henry grumping out at parties. Here’s a prime example: 
John always remarks, truthfully, that Henry was born frowning:
We recently had some family photos taken, and as Henry was getting grumpier and more short-tempered about the length of the photo shoot, we decided to go for broke with The Henry Face, family-style. Because when you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!
Our overnight trip to Sacramento to visit the Railroad Museum was a big hit with everyone, but especially with birthday boy Henry! The guys loved riding the Amtrak up to Sacramento with Grandma and Grandpa Nack. We got to pass by the mothballed navy fleet in the East Bay, and saw some other interesting sites on our way up, including an old C&H Sugar processing factory outside of Richmond.
Our motel was literally right across the street from the train station on one side, and across the street from the Railroad Museum on the other side! And wow, the Railroad museum was amazing. It is huge! 2 acres of historic engines, passenger cars, memorabilia, a dining car, sleeping car, surveying gear, model trains, a mail car…well worth a visit. It is beautifully maintained and well-presented with lots of docents around and neat exhibits.
Our motel had a pool, which was great because it was 109 both days! I forgot to pack my suit, but the guys all got in the pool Monday night. Afterwards, we hung their trunks on the balcony rail to dry overnight, but when we awoke in the morning, they had disappeared! The motel housekeepers claimed not to have seen them, nor the front desk, and we looked on the balconies below and in the bushes. Not a suit to be found – and we had planned on enjoying the pool until our noon train ride!
But – the silver lining: there was a Macy’s 1 block away on the *third* side of the motel. Finny and I headed over there at 10am Tuesday, found 2 clearance sale suits for him and Henry ($4.50 each! what a bargain!), and I picked up a clearance swimsuit for myself because I was HOT. We spent the rest of the morning in the pool, then dried off and headed for the train station.
Our original train was having engine trouble, so they moved us to a back-up train further down the platform. Then that one had no fuel, so we had to wait for the fuel truck, and while we were waiting, the first train’s engine got repaired, so we shuffled back to that one and finally took off around 2 hours late. The boys were fine with their iPad & movies, and the snack car. Henry was wiped out from all the fun, and finally crashed out on the train ride home for about an hour – a sign of a great adventure!
“Dad-O, this is me, thinking of you,” says Finn. Aw shucks—is this a great first homemade card or what? 🙂
For some reason a couple of months ago, Finn decided that once a month, Mom-O should do a sleepover in his room (cuddling with him all night). Never one to be left out, Henry decided that he should get a similar arrangement with Dad-O, and thus on Monday night we each headed to one of the dudes’ rooms.
Henry persuaded me quite foolishly to agree to stay in his room after I tucked him in, doing “homework” on my laptop in the lower bunk. Even after I shut its lid, he was so jazzed about my presence that he couldn’t stop monologuing into the darkness. Later I jotted down some of his bizarre utterances:
And so on, and on, for hours. I was of course tired, trapped, and frustrated (just go to bed, Goonie!!). And yet I finally just laid back & resolve to enjoy the ride. We won’t have the wee man just like this for long. 🙂
…it just might look like this. 🙂 Their desire for cheese sandwiches knows no bounds. Margot thinks they should start a tiny, orange-bandana-sporting gang, throwin’ cheese-signs and getting into scuffles with rival preschoolers (the Colbys vs. the Muensters, etc.).
Given that Finny is over 5 years old, it’s sort of surprising that until last night, he’d never spent the night without his constant companion, Leo. As you know, we’ve spent those 5 years working diligently to ensure that Leo never got lost, which, in fact, worked a little too well and now Finny has 3 Leos in action: the Original Leo, and the two Leomarans, each of which magically appeared at some point.
Even so, there have still been many many cumulative hours logged looking for the various “lost” buddies – at home, in the car, in the basement, at preschool, etc. To prevent buds from being left behind, we’ve developed a standing rule for ourselves when buddies come with us on outings, which goes a little somethin’ like this: “Buds in the car, buds in the car. Lookin’ like a FOOL with your buds in the car!”
Well, yesterday, the boys flaunted the “buds in the car” law, and Leo was mistakenly left behind at our nanny’s four year-old granddaughter’s house. We did not discover his absence until it was almost bedtime, so after Finny had a brief meltdown (but I can’t sleep without him! I’ve never gone to sleep without sucking on his tail!!!), Yvonne called Jessie’s mom, who committed to bringing Leo back this morning before we left for school. I told Finny that Jessie would take good care of him, and Leo would get to enjoy his first sleepover, which is pretty exciting when you think about it!
I think Finny was so tired from a big exciting day with Yvonne that he fell asleep as soon as I turned out the light, snuggled amongst his other buddies. I didn’t hear a peep about Leo at all! And, as promised, Leo was delivered, well-rested and happy, to his ecstatic and grateful human companion, this morning at 8 a.m.
Finny absolutely loves this cartoon, which came to us courtesy of a New Yorker cartoon-a-day calendar from my mom. My vocal rendition to him consists of an urbane, slightly self-satisfied cat purring, “Hmm, I must say, that was surprisingly easy.”
(Historical footnote: At age 2 Finn decided to rebrand his lion as a “looen,” just so we could say “What is that looen doin’?”)
When we were in cold and snowy Leadville for Finny’s birthday, the four of us spent a lovely afternoon at the (very warm!) indoor pool just down the street from my folks’ place. We took our pool noodles with us and splashed around for quite some time. Finny was really going for it! With a couple noodles wrapped under his chest, and a supportive Mom-o or Dad-o hand underneath, that kid did lap after lap up and down the pool. We decided that it’d be perfect timing to sign him and Henry up for swim lessons, so that they could get really comfortable with the water and start learning how to swim in time for summer.
Thanks to our friends the Wiggins, we found a good deal on individual swim lessons at the San Jose State campus aquatic center. We go every Saturday morning, and each guy has a half-our, one-on-one lesson with an instructor. Finny’s instructor is Jess (who has a small, terrific dinosaur skeleton tattoo on her arm), and Henry’s is Kiyomi. Finny is having a ball and has already made really good progress. He’s practicing “torpedo arms” and kicking, putting his face in the water, holding his breath, and floating. Henry is a little more hesitant, and a little less cooperative – he likes to hang out in a little closed-off area called “the cave” on the side of the pool, but Kiyomi does a great job cajoling him further out into the big pool for practice. He floats and half-heartedly kicks, but mostly he lets Kiyomi haul him and his noodle around the pool.
The real game-changer for both guys has been goggles! Finn spent a lot of time wiping water out of his face during the first lesson, and Henry’s not a big fan of anything in his eyes, either. John ran out and got a 3-pack of goggles before their second lesson and both guys were much happier with them on. We’ll keep doing the lessons until the guys are feeling comfortable splashing around and nailing some of the swimming basics, and we plan on visiting our neighborhood pool a lot this summer!
We are really happy to announce that Finnegan is enrolled in the Two-Way Bilingual Immersion program at our neighborhood elementary school, Willow Glen Elementary. He already knows and understands a ton of Spanish thanks to his 2 years at Pasitos bilingual preschool, and is very excited about continuing to learn and speak Spanish in kindergarten. He can stay in the bilingual program through 5th grade at Willow Glen, and there are middle- and high school options for continuing in the bilingual program until graduation.
The bilingual programs are very popular where we live, and you have to be chosen by a lottery system to get a slot. The ratio of children in the programs is always 50% native English speakers to 50% native Spanish speakers – so even though there may be 60 slots available, only 30 of them will go to your native language group. And the competition for slots is fierce, making us all the more excited that Finny actually got selected. His preschool teachers (maestras) were also thrilled to hear that he got in, and they know he will do extremely well in the program. He’s a pretty verbal kid (suprise, surprise) in both languages!
May we introduce our very own Dancing Robot!
Yesterday, as I was getting ready to leave for work, the boys and I were chatting by the back door. A propos of nothing, Finny asked, “Mom-o, how do you tell girl and boy babies apart?”
I knew he already knew the (anatomical) answer, so, Jeopardy-style, I phrased my answer in the form of a question: “Well, Finny, girls and boys look different, don’t they? How would you tell them apart?”
F: “Boys have hair like this (pointing to his hair), and girls have curly hair like you!”
M: “Well, sometimes that’s true, but that’s not the only way to tell. What else is different?”
F: “Boys wear velcro shoes (pointing to his sneakers), and girls don’t (pointing to my flats).”
M: “True. What about their bodies? Do their bodies look different?”
Henry: “Girls wear lipstick!”
Dad-o: {now chuckling audibly offstage, in the TV room}
M: “Well…yes…but there’s one definite way to tell when you look at a naked girl baby or a naked boy baby, right? How do you go to the bathroom?”
F: “Oh! Yeah! Girls don’t have one of these! (pointing to his underpants…)
aaaaand, SCENE.
The guys continue to negotiate the finer points of sharing their toys with each other. Most of the time, sharing is still a pretty contentious topic with lots of grabbing, pointing fingers, pint-sized threats, and pouting.
However, there are a few golden moments when they are being super nice and polite to each other, saying please and thank you, happily exchanging toys. In those moments, I think what we’re trying to teach them is actually sinking in.
I also like to imagine Finn and Henry singing a little song like this: {sung to the tune of “Happy Together” by the Turtles}
Imagine me and you, I do
We share our toys day and night, and night and day
We play with matchbox cars, and Thomas too
We’re sharing together
Cars and blocks, and trucks and tools
We share together so nicely
The only pal for me is you, and you for me
We’re sharing together
I can’t see me sharing with no-one but you
yeah all our toys
When we’re playing, brother i’ll be so nice to you
yeah all our toys
Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba
Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba
The boys rooms are slowly turning into wildlife refuge areas (of the faux-fur, stuffed variety, that is). As you know, our man Finny is a big lion fan. He has amassed several leonine amigos, in addition to his standbys Leo and Leomaran. Friends and family have cottoned on to his love of all things lion. His growing pride now consists of those two, plus Cuttely Buttey, Whiskery Fellow, Rar Rar, Tiny Lion, and Lion Pillow.
Henry is doing his part to build an avian sanctuary. His love for owls started with his little blankie buddies Ollie and Catamaran, and has now expanded to include Blanca, Watchful Owl, Hoo Hoo, Big Owl, Roy, an owl-to-be-named later given to him by his grandma, and Owl Pillow. Having heard that his brother’s group of lions is called a “pride,” he asked what a group of owls is called. So, we looked it up and found out that groups of owls are referred to as “parliaments.” I think this must make Henry the Minister of Strigidae.
[While Googling just now for an appropriate illustration, I came across the story of a lady with an 18,000-item collection of owl paraphernalia. Yeesh—I think G-Man may be on his way to becoming a Crazy Owl Lady! –J.]
Glimpsed at Pasitos the other day, it appears that the class has been learning about voting through the power of breakfast crackers. It looks like the boys abstained from voting; had they not, the Ritz victory would have been even more commanding!
Brutalizing!
Brutalando!
Brutalini!
A few months ago, the boys started smothering me in blankets. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen to my brain, but I thought of an Arnold Schwarzenegger line in Total Recall: “Come on, Cohaagen [the villain], you have what you want, now give the people air!!”—or as people like to render his accent, “Give deez people ehyar!!” From inside the stifling blanket pile I blurted out (in cheesy accent), “Come on, you little Cohaagens, give the Dad-O air!!” Man was that a hit!
Ever since then, the lads have been requesting “brutalizing” (or as they Spanglify it, “brutalando,” or in faux-Italian, “brutalini”), insisting that they be the Darn Cohaagens while I play Ahnuld. I try to get into the bathroom to turn on the fan (y’know, to give deez people ehyar), and they race around turning it off, then re-burying me in blankets. Ja, good times! 🙂
A few weeks back on my work blog, I shared the intriguing work of Dr. Walter Tschinkel, a Florida “entomologist and myrmecologist” (i.e. bug-studier) who makes fascinating sculptures by pouring hot metal down anthills. The boys really enjoyed watching the video about his techniques:
Independently the guys have enjoyed being superheroes, giving themselves new names each day (“I’m Rain Man!” “I’m Bat-Saber, and I defend bats!”). I suppose it was inevitable that these worlds would collide. “My name is Dr. Ant Colony,” announced Finn the other day, “Y’know, like that Walter Tschinkel.” 🙂 He & Henry then began debating whether ants poop & pee.
Well, this being a small world, I asked the actual Walter Tschinkel! He was charmed to hear about his local fame, and he sent the boys a bunch of info & photos. “Adult ants only eat liquids,” he reports, “so their poop is kind of gooey and wet.” I’ll spare you the other gross (i.e. kid-delighting) details we learned.
Oh, and one more thing. A few days later, we had the following exchange:
Finn: “How are pipes made?”
Me: “Well, I suppose someone melts metal, then forms it into shapes.”
Finn (proudly): “You know who’d do that? Walter Tschinkel! He uses an old garbage can!”
“It’s not amazing that adults make children,” I’ve heard it said, “so much as that children make adults.”
Today I took the lads to Santa Cruz for some good times at the beach boardwalk. They were generally great, but just trying to keep them around & unflattened by crowds can get wearying. Their “predictably irrational” approach to walking—endless weaving & start-stops, seemingly perfectly coordinated to be out of sync with each other—inevitably grinds on a parent’s nerves.
Thus after 4+ hours we found ourselves leaving Marianne’s Ice Cream shop, and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel—or more specifically, the door to the child-securing implements in the Ocho. As I towed Henry towards the door, Finn kept jerking in front of me, causing my cow-catching hand to keep grazing his head to urge him forward. Cue the following conversation (in front of some biker chicks):
Finn: “Dad-O! I hate it when you poke me like that! Just all, blah blah with your hand!”
Me: “I know, dude, but why can’t you guys just walk like a normal person?? Just head out in a direction and keep going.”
Finn: “But I like to walk like this! [proceeds to demonstrate weaving, pausing, etc. in front of me]”
Me: “I know!! And see, it just really wears out a grown-up, and—”
Finn: “But that’s just The Life Of The Kid!!”
…at which point, the biker chicks started cracking up, and so did I.
“You know, Finny,” I told him, “I’ve never been a dad before, and you guys have never been kids before, so we kind of have to teach each other patience, okay?” Okay, he said. I think we’ve got ourselves a deal.
The funky tandem stroller we bought from our friends the Wiggii often draws questions from parents at the park. Today was no exception, and today Finn overheard that the stroller was made by the company “Phil & Teds.” Apparently he thinks it’s a very influential bunch:
“Dad-O, did you name Uncle Ted after Phil & Ted?”
“Er, no, buddy,” I said, “we named him after my Uncle Ted. You know, he was a policeman in Chicago.”
“Oh.” After a minute or so went by, he followed up: “Was the policeman named after Phil & Ted?”
I politely explained that I don’t think the stroller company was that big a deal in the 1930’s. 🙂
