Happy Father's Day

This was Father's Day. My second one. I've collected photos and stories about Reid here since before he was born, before he was Reid, when we didn't even know what the name would be, or if he would be a boy or a girl, or anything.

When this began, I didn't think about Father's Days and birthdays and Christmas and wonderful, un-branded Sundays in the park and little hands reaching up to take yours (and you're thrilled because it means that you've finally sunk in after a thousand times explaining that when there are cars around, we must hold hands).

I didn't think about any of it, because at the beginning, you cultivate the obsessions of new parenthood; the stress and waiting, then the not sleeping and all the various fluids (!), then suddenly, here's this little person, this man who mostly sleeps through the night and says, "CHEX" when he wakes up because his favorite cereal is made from wheat, of all things.

And then this weekend, on my second Father's Day, I was reminded of everything. We went to eat, and then we went to a little nature center in our wonderful home town (we re-fall in love with here every time we do something that you can't do anywhere else, like this). Reid is probably too young for most of this stuff, for sure, but we went through, smiling in the sunlight of the beautiful Sunday.

And downstairs there were snakes. And Reid's mom wouldn't go downstairs. So I took Reid alone and we looked at the snakes (which, in fact, weren't that impressive to Reid but made me think that his mom made a good decision not coming downstairs). Then we went over to an owl that had been injured and was living inside the nature center since he couldn't fly or hunt.

The owl was in his cage and a handler was there, so I think he felt either nervous or comfortable but whichever, he decided to jump down from his perch and cling to the side of his little enclosure.

Reid jumped, too! He practically climbed up my leg and into my arms. He was scared and fascinated and completely entranced. He was my little boy. He was holding on for dear life, and I was his dad, so he knew he was safe up there.

Happy Father's Day, everybody.

Hit the Beach

We hit the beach!

Last year when we visited the Northwest Florida coast, Reid was barely walking, sand was mostly for eating, and Reid's language skills were less than stellar.

Well, he talks a lot now.

Anyhow, it was a great time. A tropical storm called Arlene chased us home one day early, but we still had a host of grand new experiences. Reid upgraded to the littler legos (up to duplo from quatro), he floated in the Gulf of Mexico on a body board, and he became practically a fish in the pool out back, bravely jumping from one parent to another like an otter.

There are an armload of new pictures here. More stories from our sandy sojourn are coming soon.

Memorial Day

As most folks know, the holiday driving season often brings automobile accidents. As a reminder to all our readers of how important it is to wear your safety belt, Reid ran me over with his gigantic collapsible indoor car.



The two car accident led to this pause where we mimicked accident victims before collapsing into hysterical laughter as K snapped pictures.

Despite this performance, we let Reid behind the wheel again when he received a non-collapsible outdoor car by Little Tykes from my mom. Reid took to the road like an expert, shredding up the turf of my sister's lawn in Laurel before his sensible cousin Giavanna explained that he needed to cool it.



Gia, Reid and Gia's brother Anthony had a nice time at the picnic, which was the benefactor of nice weather and delicious food. We ate like ancient Greeks and then lolled about in a hammock.



In a surprising demonstration of brute strength, my mom scooped Reid up like he was a doll and gave him a little grandparently love.



You'll notice I haven't mentioned the whole potty training thing much. Yeah. About that. We're not really doing anything. Reid made water, as they say, twice in the potty, but it appeared to be a fluke. He has since abandoned all interest in the potty, and it sits, neglected, in an unfortunate corner of our hallway near the bathroom.

It's okay, though, Reid isn't even two yet. Once we stop talking about his age in months, maybe we can have a rapprochment with the little green and yellow pissoir.

We're heading to the beach soon, and will surely have a pile of sandy pictures of Reid, though hopefully nothing as unattractive as this little getup. See you later.