We took mom to see the bats. We parked by the Four Seasons and walked down to see the turtles. Luckily we had lots of turtles to look at. Wesley was really excited and didn’t want to leave. We should have listened to him. We walked down to the little dock where I watched the bats before.We waited, we waited, we waited. No bats. Wesley was fussing in the backpack so he and I ran up and down some nearby stairs. He asks about Jillian so went back to the dock.
We waited, we waited, we waited. The tour boats showed up. Good sign, they know just when the bats are coming.
We waited, we waited, we waited. The tour boats left. No bats at all. We left too. Kind of sad, but a nice evening.
Costco had Christmas stuff for sale already. Just one little island of cheer, but please stop. It is only August. Kids aren’t even back in school yet. Do you really need a light up reindeer now? Please send your child to school with Number 2 pencils, 2 erasers, a box of tissue and at least one light up reindeer no fewer than 3 feet high.
Who knows, maybe there is some weird Texas holiday that makes this all make sense. I hope not.
PS..I know this is a really lousy picture. I took it with my phone that hates me.
I hope The Simpsons were right in the episode “Bart the Daredevil” when Lance Murdoch said “Bones heal. Chicks dig scars.” Wesley is a walking calamity. He trips, falls, scrapes, punctures, whacks, hits, thumps, and slips about every 5 minutes. If he makes it to puberty without some sort of massive disfigurement it will be a small miracle. Today alone he got a bloody nose, scraped his foot, and whacked his chin on the bath tub. It was a slow day. As his father I’m glad chicks dig scars, because he will surely have at least a few of those. Please don’t let Wesley get too many scars. Just the right number. A delicate balance between daredevil and uncomfortable levels of staring.
Now what will be a major miracle is if Jillian can grow up without a Wesley induced scar. More on that later I’m sure.
I think Wesley has decided that he is now officially all grown up. In the last couple of days, beginning when Jillian came home, he has made a few changes around here. He started with our seating arrangements for lunch and dinner. He has fully refused to eat in his highchair. He has always liked his highchair and has been excited to get in and begin eating. Now he won’t get near the thing. He utters a big “Nooooo” when asked to climb in and shakes his head so hard I think it might come right off. He has taken to eating in a normal chair, reluctantly with his bib. After two days we’ve given in and Amber is at this moment buying him a booster seat for the dining room chairs.
Today he also decided that he was going to start using the toilet. Now, he has asked to use it before and even managed to squeeze out a few drops, but nothing like this before. Today, in the bath we had this conversation:
W: “Dada. Dada, poop”
J: “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
W: “Yeah.”
J: “Now?”
W: (emphatically) “YES.”
Out of the tub he comes. Gets a quick dry off and onto the toilet. A few minutes later we have an honest to goodness poop and pee in the toilet. He was so excited he started to clap his hands and got a huge smile on his face. He kept telling us he had more, using his signs, and sure enough out came more. We sang songs and had a good time. Took pictures of course. He was pushing so hard that I thought he might break something. But he is young I guess and will probably recover quickly.
We had two and half more successful potty trips today. The half comes from us saying he was done, him saying more and getting back on the toilet. He squeezed out a couple more just to prove us wrong. Not to say that he is potty trained or anything. We are a long way off from being diaper free, but it is pretty exciting. He even asked that I change his diaper when it was wet. Of course that request came during his screaming refusal to go to bed. Which brings us to the next change Wesley is trying to implement.
Along with his other changes Wesley is trying to rid himself of a bed time. He fought and screamed and cried and yelled “mama, dada” for upwards of an hour. This time did include a break while singing with dad, while eating a whole banana and drinking a cup of milk. And of course we can’t forget the per request wet diaper change. Even after fifteen minutes of holding, swaying and singing with his head on my shoulder Wesley would still pop up his head and look toward the door point with his pacifier and say “There it is” as if I had lost the door and was singing to him to blow time until we found our way out and he didn’t have to go to sleep.
I just hope he doesn’t grow up too quickly. I’ll miss my little guy. But certainly not the diapers.