Well, We Made It
Well, Aidan is now officially one year old. He had his party last weekend, and as expected it was a ridiculous showering of gifts from all of our/his friends and relatives. He now has so many toys that we are literally converting what was the office into a hybrid playroom/computer work area. Even my mother was impressed--something that isn't easy to achieve, believe me--by the Fisher-Price/LittleTykes explosion of '06. She's remarked since that she isn't sure what to get him for Christmas, as most of Toys R Us now lives at our home....I have to agree with her, and I have a feeling we're going to get him things he needs rather than things to play with and put what we would have spent in his college fund. Which is so terribly responsible it makes me wonder when, exactly, I became my father.
But I digress. On Aidan's actual birthday, we took him to Build-A-Bear and, well, built a bear. He seemed to show interest in one bear over the others, so we showed him how it was stuffed, and let him pick out a heart for it, etc, etc. Of course, once we left the store he refused to look at it and hasn't touched it since, but at least he seemed interested at the time. We also got his Christmas ornament for the year, as well as laid down some holiday tradition groundwork to ensure that our collective insanity about the holidays will live on in the traditions he heaps upon his poor future spouse.
Following closely on the heels of his b-day was, of course, Thanksgiving. This isn't technically his first Poultry Holocaust (as I fondly refer to it) but last year he was only 4 days old, so that one really shouldn't count. He discovered that he absolutely LOVES his Grandfather's sweet potatoes (which, given that there is one billion percent more "sweet" than "potato" should have surprised no one) as well as giving hearty endorsement to Grandma's stuffing and chicken. He also got to try ice cream, and it was the first time he'd ever had something that cold. Naturally, he made all manner of hideous faces until he got used to the idea, at which time he returned to his "cutest lil' hobo begger in the world" act.
All in all, an eventful week....topped off by something that happened mere moments ago. Aidan loves the phone, as you'll recall, and we've been letting him play with it after we're done, assuming the probability that he would get a working phone number, or even the right number of digits (he picks up and hangs up constantly) was pretty low. Which is true. Kinda. There's a few rather interesting exceptions to this, one being 911. Turns out that's not so hard to dial. Also turns out that when you dial it and don't say anything before hanging up, it makes the nice policemen and women nervous. At which point they call your house and you are forced to explain rather abashedly, without sounding like the cheapest, most neglectful parent on the planet, how and why your one year old managed to dial the police. This is followed by a visit by said nice policemen (2 cars' worth, in fact) to ensure you have not in reality murdered the whole family that lives at that phone number and are just very mentally agile when faced with a crisis. I bumbled my way through that explanation, saying he must have hit the speed dial.
I'm not sure we even have the police on speed dial. But if we do, I guess that means we're not such horrible parents after all.
But I digress. On Aidan's actual birthday, we took him to Build-A-Bear and, well, built a bear. He seemed to show interest in one bear over the others, so we showed him how it was stuffed, and let him pick out a heart for it, etc, etc. Of course, once we left the store he refused to look at it and hasn't touched it since, but at least he seemed interested at the time. We also got his Christmas ornament for the year, as well as laid down some holiday tradition groundwork to ensure that our collective insanity about the holidays will live on in the traditions he heaps upon his poor future spouse.
Following closely on the heels of his b-day was, of course, Thanksgiving. This isn't technically his first Poultry Holocaust (as I fondly refer to it) but last year he was only 4 days old, so that one really shouldn't count. He discovered that he absolutely LOVES his Grandfather's sweet potatoes (which, given that there is one billion percent more "sweet" than "potato" should have surprised no one) as well as giving hearty endorsement to Grandma's stuffing and chicken. He also got to try ice cream, and it was the first time he'd ever had something that cold. Naturally, he made all manner of hideous faces until he got used to the idea, at which time he returned to his "cutest lil' hobo begger in the world" act.
All in all, an eventful week....topped off by something that happened mere moments ago. Aidan loves the phone, as you'll recall, and we've been letting him play with it after we're done, assuming the probability that he would get a working phone number, or even the right number of digits (he picks up and hangs up constantly) was pretty low. Which is true. Kinda. There's a few rather interesting exceptions to this, one being 911. Turns out that's not so hard to dial. Also turns out that when you dial it and don't say anything before hanging up, it makes the nice policemen and women nervous. At which point they call your house and you are forced to explain rather abashedly, without sounding like the cheapest, most neglectful parent on the planet, how and why your one year old managed to dial the police. This is followed by a visit by said nice policemen (2 cars' worth, in fact) to ensure you have not in reality murdered the whole family that lives at that phone number and are just very mentally agile when faced with a crisis. I bumbled my way through that explanation, saying he must have hit the speed dial.
I'm not sure we even have the police on speed dial. But if we do, I guess that means we're not such horrible parents after all.
posted by Clueless Dad | 4:43 PM
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