Adventures with Sons
Now, look closely:
It isn't all that clear and it isn't fully extended (Julie's OB barely missed the best shot), but our unborn son is giving the world the middle finger. He's not even born and he's already a crotchety old fart. I'll have to make sure to encourage this behavior. I'd hate to let a fine family tradition die out.
Jude ran over to our neighbors' house today and jumped into the pool with all the other kids. The mom had family over, including three young girls, one about Jude's age. When I finally made it over there, I had to admit that we will face interesting times when Jude hits puberty. He's not even three and he was already swimming around with not one, but two naked blondes.
Jude and I have a silly game he likes to play. When I get home from work I like to change clothes. While I'm changing, Jude will run into the bedroom and start shouting "Airplane!" (it sounds like "airpane" when he says it). I'll grab him and holler something along the lines of "Airplane? AIRPLANE? I'll show YOU an airplane!" and throw him into the largest pile of pillows on the bed. This traumatizes him so much that he immediately jumps off the bed and runs at me again hollering "AIRPANE!!!", ad nauseum. It's rather ironic that I have to beg my son to stop making me beat him up.
In the mornings, Jude graces our bedroom with his very loud presence starting anywhere from 4:30 on. When I can finally drag my carcass out of bed, he'll come with me into the bathroom and watch me dress, shave, and brush my hair. He'll then either hang on my leg or ask me to pick him up and carry him to the kitchen for breakfast. While I'm certainly not a morning person, I treasure this time with him.
I don't have any such games yet with Jude's younger sibling. The fact that he's not yet born tends to crimp our fun. I'm sure we'll come up with some silly, senseless game that involves some amount of noise and/or controlled violence. That is, after all, the hallmark of dads with their sons.
It isn't all that clear and it isn't fully extended (Julie's OB barely missed the best shot), but our unborn son is giving the world the middle finger. He's not even born and he's already a crotchety old fart. I'll have to make sure to encourage this behavior. I'd hate to let a fine family tradition die out.
Jude ran over to our neighbors' house today and jumped into the pool with all the other kids. The mom had family over, including three young girls, one about Jude's age. When I finally made it over there, I had to admit that we will face interesting times when Jude hits puberty. He's not even three and he was already swimming around with not one, but two naked blondes.
Jude and I have a silly game he likes to play. When I get home from work I like to change clothes. While I'm changing, Jude will run into the bedroom and start shouting "Airplane!" (it sounds like "airpane" when he says it). I'll grab him and holler something along the lines of "Airplane? AIRPLANE? I'll show YOU an airplane!" and throw him into the largest pile of pillows on the bed. This traumatizes him so much that he immediately jumps off the bed and runs at me again hollering "AIRPANE!!!", ad nauseum. It's rather ironic that I have to beg my son to stop making me beat him up.
In the mornings, Jude graces our bedroom with his very loud presence starting anywhere from 4:30 on. When I can finally drag my carcass out of bed, he'll come with me into the bathroom and watch me dress, shave, and brush my hair. He'll then either hang on my leg or ask me to pick him up and carry him to the kitchen for breakfast. While I'm certainly not a morning person, I treasure this time with him.
I don't have any such games yet with Jude's younger sibling. The fact that he's not yet born tends to crimp our fun. I'm sure we'll come up with some silly, senseless game that involves some amount of noise and/or controlled violence. That is, after all, the hallmark of dads with their sons.
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