Sam Gets His

I was rereading my posts and realize that Jack (and his antics) receives a majority of the attention here.  So, in fairness to our second born:

Today, Sam stared at a light... for a really long time.  Then he fell asleep.  I bet he dreamt about the light and the glorious wonderment it brings. 

Today, Sam cried because he doesn't like riding in his car seat.  Then he cried some more.  And more.  And more.  Sam, we get it, you don't like your car seat.  But Arizona's traffic laws don't leave us much choice.  So, with all due respect, can it.  If forced to do so, I'll install a light for you to stare at while we drive.  

Today, Sam sucked on his pacifier and slept while Daddy schlepped him around Scottsdale Fashion Square in the Baby Bjorn.  [Take a moment and picture that: Regular Joe TJ, clad in tee shirt, cargo shorts and $3.50 Old Navy flip flops, with a 7 lb baby strapped to his chest.  Then picture me surrounded by 15 to 25 year-olds who consider Cosmo an "intellectually stimulating" publication, don jean shorts and 4" high heels to go shopping, and can't tell you what the words "federal budget deficit" mean.  You bet I blend right in, like a goiter on a prom queen.]

Today, Sam had a bottle for dinner.  During a burping break, Jack was showing Sam his new shoes (navy blue Crocs) and Sam promptly vomited on Jack and his new shoes.  Take that, big brother.  Jack was not pleased, pleading with Daddy to "clean up my new shoes, please, now, please! Sam pooked on me!"  I'm certain you find the glorious irony in that event, as I did. 

Learning Jackanese

Filed under "Jackanese":

• hast-eh-bul  (Hospital.  He learned this word when Sam was born.  We were going back and forth to the "hast-eh-bul" daily and parking in the garage.  So now, whenever we enter a parking garage, he asks why we're at the "hast-eh-bul.")
• esk-al-vator (a transposition of "escalator" and "elevator."  Both are modes of transportation between floors, so he's really evolving the English language.)

Jack Ryan: Meteorologist

I came home from work today a little earlier than normal.  Sadly, I usually don't arrive home until around 6:00pm on the average day.  When time is money, the tendency is to squeeze as much as you can out of a day.  The life-work balance is a constant struggle.

Today, when I arrived home, I learned that Ashley had not left the house with the boys all day.  Cabin fever had set in.  My first clue was Jack running in circles in our living room, wielding a miniature Louisville slugger that my grandfather gave us as a birth present.  We resolved to remedy the situation with a quick trip to that mecca of discretionary spending, high fashion and lives of excess: Scottsdale Fashion Square.  

While en route, Jack looked up at the sky.  Today was marked as the first day of Phoenix's "fall."  I put "fall" in quotes simply because I don't believe we have four seasons, but two: Heaven and Hell.  We're now entering heaven, when all the days are simply perfect.  Days where your lawn sprouts an emerald green color (after ample water and a couple hundred bucks of rye seed), and when the golf course actually looks like those ones you see in magazines, with the criss-cross mowing patterns. But I digress.

Jack looked up at the sky.  The day was hazy, with a layer of clouds thick enough to obscure the sun's shape, creating the effect of a bright "blob" in the sky.  Jack noticed, announcing: 

"Daddy... the sky is ruined."

A Two-Foot-Tall Ted Kennedy Lives In My House

As an attorney, I pride myself on my linguistic skills and proper grammar. (I have to; I'm paid to write well. Trust me, it's not a burning personal desire to rework Strunk & White's or be the next Bryan Garner, although I appreciate the work he's done.) In that vein, I constantly correct Jack's grammar and speech when I hear things that are not necessarily correct. He frequently confuses verb tense or conjugations. For example, Jack will say, "Daddy, today mommy and I droved to Target and boughted some clothes for Sam" to which I respond, in my best impression of ajunior high grammar teacher, "Fantastic! You DROVE to Target and BOUGHT some clothes for Sam. WONDERFUL!"

One thing that is currently uncorrectable, however, is Jack's frequent transposition of "-uh" for "-er." As I referenced on the sidebar, Jack calls our IMac the "pew-tuh." I have tried to correct this to "com-pu-ter" (slowly saying each syllable with great emphasis) to no avail. So we live with it. And, frankly, it yields some pretty humorous conversations. His inability (or choice, we haven't figured out which yet) to change all words that end in and "-er" to "-uh" makes him sound like member of the Kennedy household on a tear. "Daddy, why you workin' on the pew-tuh?" "Well, Jack, because I can't get my caaaaa out of the garaaaaaage. Go Red Sawcks!"