Darby tries on the hat

Behold, Darby as Indiana Jones:

 

Bonus photo! Casey's turn:

I love that one. We got lucky and caught the whip crack at a nice moment. He looks like he just stepped out of the poster.

Also lucky: Darby and I only took a light lashing. And that's how Casey learned to wait until his family is out of range before trying out the weapons.

Casey explains it all

A week ago:

Erika, Casey, and I are sitting in the kitchen where Casey's explaining to us why he's been giving us trouble at bedtime lately. It's apparently because we're putting him to bed at times when he doesn't feel tired.

So why, I ask, do you also keep telling us at the same time that you're too tired to walk up the stairs on your own or to put on your pajamas or to brush your teeth?

Casey clearly realizes he's wandered into a logical trap, but he's not going down without a fight. But he also has no guile. So he tilts his head thoughtfully, screws up his face in concentration, and says, "Well ..."

I wait patiently, because I can already tell that whatever he says next is going on the web site.

Casey resumes a level head angle and begins, slowly and with hand gestures, "Here's the thing ..."

I really wish I knew what he said next, but after the thoughtful pause and the serious tone and the ridiculously precocious intro, I had to spend all my remaining mental energy trying to keep a straight face.

Tonight:

Casey and Darby are playing upstairs, but they're both sounding increasingly upset. Erika intervenes, and I can hear it from downstairs. Casey was playing with something, and Darby knocked it over. Erika calmed everyone down, but then I arrived just in time to see Casey knock it over.

"Casey!" Erika exclaimed. "Why did you do that? Just a minute ago you didn't want Darby knocking it over!"

Casey: "Well, once the frogs teleported ..."

Another occasion in which whatever he said that followed was eclipsed by his intro because Erika and I were incapacitated as soon as we made eye contact.

I mean, what can you say to that? Any explanation that includes teleporting frogs ... all you can do is shrug and let it go, right?

March Madness

I sit Casey down:

"OK, Casey, see, there's a big basketball contest that starts today. And Grandma and I run ... well, it's called a basketball pool, and what you do is you pick who you think is going to win in a bunch of basketball games, and whoever guesses right wins. So I'm going to tell you the names of some basketball teams, and you're going to try to guess the winners, OK?"

Casey, who's been staring at me with wide eyes throughout this whole explanation, looks thoughtful for a moment. He also seems hesitant and skeptical.

"Well ... OK ... but I don't think I'm very good at playing basketball in the water. But I'm good at playing basketball on land."

He got more into the spirit of the thing once I explained it wasn't that kind of pool.

Also, grass is green

An anguished Casey, immediately following a taste of discipline:

I wish everything would go my way!

No kidding, pal.

A lot to learn

We're driving in the car when Casey heard part of a song lyric on the radio and needed immediate clarification:

Casey: "Dad, what did he say?"
Me: "What did who say?"
Casey: "What number's the loneliest number?"

Oh, Casey. You're so young.

Budding vigilantes

Casey: My superhero name is Doctor Pajama!

(Darby quickly dubbed himself "Doctor Clothes," as he hadn't switched to pajamas for the evening yet.)

Under the weather

Casey couldn't keep anything down yesterday. My job was to bring Gatorade home after work, and even Casey seemed to know it. "Did you bring Gatorade?" were the first words out of his mouth when I arrived. I put some in a cup for him and left him to drink it ("No ice," he says. "It just came home from the store -- without ice, it's going to be warm. Do you want it with ice, or do you want it warm?" "Warm," he answers. That's when I knew he was really sick.).

Then I returned to the kitchen to check in with Erika a bit. We talked a while, and I got myself some dinner, and finally I asked: so, how long does it usually take him to throw it up once you give him something to drink? Not long, Erika said: maybe 5 or 10 minutes. Whoa, I said, I should probably get down there and check on him again.

I find Casey staring listlessly at the TV. It's pretty dark in the room, so I can't see much else.

"Hey, Casey. How are you doing with the Gatorade? Did you throw it up?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. ... In the bowl?"

"No."

Dang it. "OK ... where did you throw up?"

He shrugs and points at his lap. C'mon, man, the bowl is like a foot away.

(He was looking and acting much better this morning.)

At least he's warm

A story Erika told me:

Casey's been responsible for dressing himself for a while now, and we don't have many problems with it. So we've relaxed the degree of monitoring that he used to require. But lately he's been making some strange choices. Not in the fashion sense, but ... well, I don't know how to describe this. For example, Mom will provide a new pair of underwear. Then we find out at bedtime that he never bothered to remove the old pair, just pulled the new ones on over them.

Yesterday he took this to a whole new level. Given clothes to wear for the day, apparently he kept his old underwear and pajamas, put the new underwear on top of the pajamas, and then the clothes on top of that. We've decided to keep a closer eye on him for a little while.

Nature or nurture?

In iTunes I maintain a playlist of songs Casey likes from the stuff he hears me playing. His recent requests to add songs have included the following:

• Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67, "Fate": I. Allegro con brio -- Beethoven
• Bust a Move -- Young MC
• Black Horse and the Cherry Tree -- KT Tunstall
• In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida -- Iron Butterfly

That's the tip of the iceberg, believe me. He seems to be adopting his father's eclectic tastes in music.

Justice at 4

Hey neat, I just found an old file on my computer. I know, right? But it gets better! Apparently I knew I'd want to remember this, so I jotted this exchange down. It's more than a year old, but here's my attempt to explain jurisprudence to an inquisitive 4-year-old:

Casey: What do the police do?
Chris: They're there to enforce the law. We have lots of special rules that keep people safe and keep them from hurting each other, and the police are there to make sure people aren't breaking the rules.
Casey: The police make sure people are sharing?

And:

Casey: What do the bad guys do?
Chris: The bad guys break the rules.
Casey: Do bad guys like to climb on the table?

Quote[s] of the [Holi]day

Ah, a day at home with the kids. So here's one from each:

Casey: Hey, Daddy? Remember last year, when the Twins lost too many games?
Me: Well, I try not to, but yes.
Casey: Maybe that will happen to the other hockey team that's playing the Wild.

Thanks, Casey. I love when he tries to cheer me up. And actually ... the Wild are looking surprisingly good so far.

And:

Darby: I want pie sauce, too!
Erika: It's not called pie sauce, Darby, it's whipped cream.

Happy Thanksgiving, all.

Well that didn't take long. I came home on time today:

Casey: I'm eating something!
Hmm. He's not supposed to have food downstairs, and he hasn't been upstairs since I got home.
Chris: What are you eating?
Casey: I saved a fruit snack in my cheek!

Quote of the Day

Casey, while I'm reading a book at bedtime:

Pause! You have to pause it! [He runs from the room.]

New feature: Quote of the Day

I need to write some of this stuff down. So this is how it's gonna be, at least when I remember to do it. And when the material's interesting enough, which I guess I can't promise every day. But I've got a good feeling.

Casey:

"I don't have a runny nose! I'm just sniffing to keep the goo in."

Well done, Casey. Funny AND horribly disgusting! That's some distilled essence of parenthood right there.

Drinking to numb the pain

The kids were passed out by 8:15 tonight, but it was a hard-won victory. We've been building up to this for days while we train Darby to stay in bed willingly.  Perhaps tomorrow morning will go better than it did today.

Because today, at quarter to 6, Darby threw the door of his room open and called down the hallway, "Mommy?" My wife, who is perhaps the kindest person I know, groaned menacingly and said, "I hate everyone."  These are dark days.

Fortunately, there are bright spots to tide us over.  Like drinking.  We've been planning for the holidays and just the other night spent some time watching the kids run in circles while we shared visions of fuzzy navels on Thanksgiving.  We decided I would be in charge of visiting the liquor store.

Casey, who has radar for this sort of thing, immediately lost all interest in running, giggling, and knocking Darby over. "What's a liquor store?"  Oh boy, here we go.

"It's a store where they sell liquor."

"What's a liquor?"

"It's a drink that's just for grownups."

Casey immediately got into character.  "I'm going to go to the liquor store and pick up liquors for you!"

"Ooh, I don't think they'll sell you any, buddy.  You're too short."

"They're not for ME, Dad, I said they were for YOU."  Sometimes, I just don't get it.

"Oh, right, you said that.  Well good luck, Casey, let me know how it goes."

Thirty seconds later he returned and announced, "Daddy, I got you seven liquors!"

"Wow, seven!  Good job, pal.  I usually stop after one or two."

Our First Jack-o'-lantern

Casey and Darby were very interested in helping me carve our big pumpkin today. After I made the incision, Casey pulled the top off. Once he got a look at what was inside, he pretty much stood back and let me and Darby take over. He didn't want anything to do with all those pumpkin guts.

Darby doesn't mind getting his hands messy. He stuck his spoon right in there, although I can't really say he was helpful. First, he wanted to taste the stuff. We were at the table and using spoons--I can see how he would get confused.

 Later I had to stop him from putting the goop I had already scooped out back into the pumpkin. I admire the enthusiasm, though.

While Darby and I worked on extracting the innards (actually, Darby wandered off at some point), Casey made some preliminary sketches of how he wanted the face to look. He decided the eyes had to be circles, and that the nose should be a triangle. He was less specific about what the mouth should look like, though. He just kept telling me it had to be "scary." So I gave it a few teeth.

Casey seemed pretty happy with it. Actually, I was just glad it turned out ok. I haven't made one of these things since my own parents were helping me. And, I remember being pretty squeamish about the pumpkin guts too.

 

Casey likes to take the top off and put it back on. Simple joys, I guess.

Apple-Picking Expedition

Saturday was a beautiful fall day, cool and crisp and sunny, so we took the boys to pick some apples at Appleberry Farm. It was a little late in the season for apple picking so we struggled a bit to find edible apples, but it was such a nice day to be outdoors. And the apples we did find have been excellent. Darby picked up one runty, deformed-looking apple from the ground, and it didn't have any bruises or holes, so I let him try it. We all ended up sampling that apple, and it was just about the most glorious specimen of an apple any of us had ever tasted. Hopefully the rest of our finds will live up to that first apple. We also quite enjoyed our lunch of cider brats with apple-onion relish, apple donuts, and apple cider.

Look closely at those leaves. There's a Casey in there somewhere.

Since most of the easy-to-reach apples were gone, Chris hoisted Casey and Darby up in the air to try to get at some higher branches. They didn't have much luck, though. Height-wise, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree in this family. (Ooo, that was bad, but I couldn't help it.)

This was when I made Darby carry the bags of apples. Kid has to start pulling his own weight sometime!

Casey posed himself with these pumpkins, put on his fakest photo smile, and asked me to take his picture.

We weren't ready to pick out pumpkins this weekend, but the boys couldn't help but browse.

On our way out we found a great weeping willow tree to climb around in.

You make a fair point, Casey

"Darby's a good baby!" Casey said.

"Well, he's good, yes, but he's not exactly a baby anymore."

"Oh.  Well, he does cry a lot."

Casey and goals

Wow, busy weekend. Really, I should write about our Dells vacation day or about the company picnic, but instead, I'm going to get this out first, since Erika will have pictures for the marquee stuff anyway.

Remember when the Wild were exciting? Around 2003, that was. I bought a playoff T-shirt at the time, and I wore it today, and Darby is fascinated by anything he sees on my shirts, so this time I wound up explaining that he was pointing at the Stanley Cup, which is a hockey trophy. That caught Casey's attention, so then I had to explain it to him, too.

"Daddy, when I get bigger, I'm going to win that hockey trophy!"

Ha ha, really? That sounds great Casey, we'd all love that.

"Yeah, I'm going to score a goal and win the trophy!"

Well that would be terrific. You know something? If you play for this trophy, I'll cheer for you.

"Do you think Mommy would cheer for me, too?"

Yes, Casey, if you play in the Stanley Cup Finals, I promise your mom will cheer for you.

So later, when sportswriters are looking for good biographical information to include in his Hall of Fame induction story, we'll have this early example to fall back on.

Casey's favorite flavor

These days, this blog often functions as a diary, recording things that I don't want to forget down the road. And someday, this might be useful again.

When you're trying to get Casey or Darby to try food they're feeling reluctant about, there was that time when Casey refused to try the asparagus, contorting himself wildly to avoid the piece of asparagus as it approached. He was very concerned with what it would taste like. The magic answer, apparently, is that it would taste "green." As soon as this was suggested, he grinned, took the fork, and ate the asparagus up. REMEMBER THIS.

Also worth remembering: Casey's music education continues.

"Daddy, what song is this?"

"It's called 'The Kids Aren't Alright.'"

What was I thinking? I had to spend the next five minutes assuring him that "the kids" were really OK.