Favorites.

Jack's favorite song right now is 'Who let the dogs out.'  Explain that one.

At the water park.

Yum

Licorish at the ball game.

At the game.

Tasty treats at the Dbacks game.

On the go.

I'm testing a new 'on the go' blogging tool.

Uh, hello? We have a blog?

Hey at least it's the blog that gets neglected, and not the kids. 

Mr. Mom Weekend. A Recap.

Ashley went out of town with her friend to San Diego. Just. The. Two. Of. Them.

They left Thursday night. The night was uneventful. A little baseball in the back yard, dinner, baths and some books before bedtime. Nothing really to report there.  I was feeling quite confident.  But the fates had it in store for me.

Friday morning was much different. Sam’s morning bottle turned into this:

 

Yep. That's a turtle-shaped hurl spot on the end of the couch.  I cleaned up what I could, but was running low on time.  In an effort to avoid malnourishment, I gave him some “bland” breakfast of bananas and berries.  After seven bites, he promptly ralphed that up too.  All over his awesome outfit (one of my few simple joys is dressing the boys up with some style) and all over the high chair and floor.

I was starting to panic.  I hate puke.  Let me rephrase: I despise puke.  Puke and runny kid poop in diapers are my main nemeses.  "Remain calm; Ashley does this more often that you know about, probably," I thought. Thankfully, I had not yet donned my suit for work, so I simply loaded my clothes in the car and, like a good father, took them to my mom's house so it became her issue.  [She gave him some Sprite and crackers, and the remainder of the day he was fine.]  Off to work I went.  Panic subsided somewhat.

After work, we had dinner with Ashley's buddy's husband and kids at my folks house. The kids were thrilled (as you can see) to pose for the picture. I certainly don’t go walking around the house brandishing a double-barrel shotgun, so don’t blame me for Jack’s pose.  Sam hurled (again) at dinner and then promptly fell asleep at 6:30 pm.  I figured I was in for a rough night, but he snoozed until 4:00 A.M. at which point he rocked back to sleep and was down until 6:45 A.M. 

Saturday was a big day, filled with T-ball, a three hour and fifteen minute POWER nap by Sam, some lunch at Paradise Bakery, MoJo’s (frozen yogurt), a trip to the club for a few balls on the range (Jack), and then a visit to Jack’s buddy’s house.  Zach and Jack watched part of Ice Age 3 (I enjoyed it, Jack was unimpressed), and then they played baseball and soccer outside.  That allowed me some much needed time in the lounge chair.

 

[Either Jack’s sneezing or he’s disappointed with my decision.  You be the judge.]

After three-plus hours of play, Jack did NOT want to leave. 

 

Sunday needed some activities, so after church, Jack and I watched a movie about Legos (while Sam napped) and then off to the zoo!

And, with Ashley on her way back home, it was time to infuse them with Kiddie Crack for her arrival.  DAIRY QUEEN!

 

Overall, a successful weekend.  A weekend alone with my boys always cements the fact that I love them (despite their desire to drive me slowly crazy) and want only the best for their well being.  I also realized this weekend that they are growing up way too fast, that Jack may very well be more intelligent than I am, and that Sam’s sense of humor is amazingly well developed at 21 months.

Puke Count: 4.

Poopy Diaper Count: 3.

“Daddy swears and kicks something” Count: 5.

[Geeky Tech Footnote: ALL of these pictures were taken on my Motorola Droid.  I am really digging this phone.  I can find fault with any device, but this one is really great.]

Stuff My Son Says.

Today, we played some basketball.

Jack:  "Daddy, you and me will play first.  The invisible people will sit over there and play with themselves."

Me: "I'm glad they're invisible." [ironic half smile]

Fantastic!

I ran across this video this morning and it made me think about Jack at this kid's age, and what a little thespian he's become... and I have a special place for the King's English. [Ed. Note: I prefer the Scottish and Irish accents, but British comes in a close third.  In fact, I would put the Cockney accent in third, guv-nuh, British in fourth.  The Australian accent lost its luster after Crocodile Dundee and when I hear South African I think of the golfing Sasquatch himself, Ernie Els.  So they are tied for fifth.]

Jack loves to stare at himself in the mirror (usually in the middle of dinner), singing, making faces and stringing together silly words as the lyrics to songs he makes up.  Some classics include "He has the whole world in his pants" "Pooh-Pooh in the baby head" and [Extreme Air Guitar Leaping Between Couch Cushion Head-banging Frenzy.]  The last one doesn't have words, just a whole bunch of noises, screaming the word "yeah!" over and over while strumming his air guitar.

"Daddy, Do You Have To Go To Work Today?"

I hear the question almost every day.

"Daddy, do you have to go to work today?"

It seems that a transformation has occurred in the last few months.  A transition in which Jack has realized he and I have more in common than he does with his mother.  From the time he was born, he was attached at the hip to Ashley.  He wanted her to put him to bed, to feed him, to comfort him when he was sick.  But recently, his tune has changed.  He yearns for time spent with me, and I've enjoyed the transformation.

But having to answer his question daily, it makes going to work that much harder.