daycare as dog park

The other morning I had a fun conversation with one of the other fathers at daycare. After making small talk for a few weeks, I realized that we had never actually told each other our names. So I did, and Paul, the other daddy, did as well, but with much apologizing. I told him not to sweat it, because daycare is basically like a dog park with kids.

See, at a dog park, you never actually get the owner's names, just the dogs. And you learn the dogs names quickly, because the owners are always shouting things like, "Sadie, no! Sadie, come here! Sadie! Sadie!" and "SADIE!" Similar things happen at daycare.

And there you have it.

kenny pitches a perfect game

I am happy to report that Kenny went the entire day without an accident. This is pretty monumental in the grand scheme of potty training. Now we just need to maintain that kind of success rate. Shouldn't be too tough, right? Right? Why are you shaking your head like that? I mean, one whole day of perfection means we're home free, right? RIGHT? Geez. Tough crowd.

shirlfest '08 (coming soon)

Grammy Shirley and her grandkids (and Overboard).

Last month we gathered on the banks of Lake Sebago in Maine to celebrate Grammy Shirley's 80th birthday. I'm working on an extended recap, but it's slow going...so, my apologies.

In the meantime, if you're feeling impatient (and really, who can blame you?), you can check out all of the pictures here and here.

Okay then. Go Shirl.

our other man and woman in la

After almost eight years of cajoling, my college buddy Christian and his girlfriend Rachel came out to visit us this weekend. We spent Saturday wandering downtown, before making our way up to Wrigley for the Cubs/Cardinals game. The same Cubs game where our intrepid hometown heroes clinched the NL Central crown. For all of the Cubs fans out there, I'd like to point out that this was my first game at Wrigley in two or three seasons. So, if anyone wants to throw playoff tickets my way, apparently I'm good luck. Anyone? Hmm?


Christian and Rachel get romantic in front of the Bean.

Group shot from under the Bean.

Let's just say this is a big deal around these parts.

Kenny had fun flirting with Rachel and requesting Christian's presence as a stall tactic when he was supposed to be going potty.

You can check out all of the fun pictures here.

Go Cubs.

backyard adventures

Kenny checks out his brave new backyard world.

Our awesome next door neighbors gave us a hand-me-down backyard playset for Kenny. It's a big plastic cube with a slide, and for now, it's quite popular. Our intrepid explorer even figured out how to climb up the slide, so he's got that going for him. Which is nice.

See for yourself:

The joy of sliding down is only bested by...

The joy of climbing back up.

After a few unsuccessful slides back down, Kenny scrambles up to the top.

Success!

Overboard beams with pride (and just a touch of panic).

pit stop!

The potty train(ing) rolls on and it has definitely been an up and down journey.

In an attempt to make things more fun for Kenny, I started referring to going potty as "taking a pit stop." Furthermore, I use my best Guido (from the movie "Cars") voice to do it, cause I know how to play to my audience.

During dinner tonight, we thought Kenny was asking for pizza, until I realized he was actually saying, "Pit stop! Pit stop!" So, I took him out of his high chair and we went to the bathroom, where he took care of business.

The way I see it, if I can turn our home into a Pixar animated movie, we're home free.

capt. hardass

Tonight we turned a bit of a corner in the potty training world. After a disastrous weekend of accidents galore, I had a long talk with the daycare folks about our current game plan.

When Kenny and I got home, I stopped being Professor Evenkeel - Happy Go Lucky Man About Town - and turned into my new alter ego, Captain Hardass (a no-nonsense drill sergeant, hell bent on potty training the youth of America).

When Kenny tried to goof around instead of getting undressed and on the potty, Captain Hardass sprung into action, unleashing a fury of seriousness and intent as yet unknown to young Mr. K. Let's just say I confused him into compliance, and maybe, just maybe, a touch of respect. But I'll settle for compliance. And some pee and poop. As weird as that may sound.

o-tay

Kenny's "k" sounds are still a work in progress. Sometimes he nails it and sometimes it comes out as a "t" sound. Thus, Kenny is prone to agreeing with you by saying, "Otay." This has led to a number of rousing versions of "Unce, Tice, Fee Times a Maday" and other chart toppers.

O-tay!

what's the deal with...

Bathroom attendants?

Last night, Overboard and I went to a wedding between a wonderful couple that Overboard helped set up on a blind date. The bride is the sister of one of Overboard's co-workers, and the groom is a former floor hockey (and current ice hockey) teammate of mine (and Overboard's). But that's not the point.

The point is that there was a bathroom attendant in the men's room, and that always irritates me. I don't have anything against the gentlemen themselves, it's just I really don't need someone watching me take a pee, then handing me a towel after I wash my hands and expecting a tip. C'mon, I don't get a dollar when I'm trying to cajole Kenny into going potty, and that's a helluva lot more work than these guys put in.

I mean, the attendant didn't even clap for me or cheer, "Evenkeel went potty on the toilet!" when I was done.

Amateur.

apropos of nothing

Potty training is stressful. Potty training and dealing with a submerged backyard/driveway is, um, really stressful. So here are a few random pictures from a while back to make you (and us) smile.


"I dunno if the visor makes me look tough enough."

"Oof...if I can get this thing off, you're all in trouble."

"You wanna piece of me?!?!?!?"

Overboard and Kenny drop their gloves. They went at it before Overboard made Kenny pick his gloves back up and put them where they belong.

Overboard came out victorious. Kenny was off serving his penalty.

my boy doesn't want to potty all the time

Wow. Rough morning.

Kenny woke up an hour and a half earlier than usual and was none to pleased. He was also immune to my rationalizations about why going back to sleep would be a beyond awesome thing to do. He also managed to pee and poop in his overnight pull-up, and then get angry when Overboard cleaned him up and tried to get him into his underwear. And by angry, I mean he screamed and cried and flailed like a protester outside of the RNC. Then he peed in said underwear and broke down all over again.

After the meltdown subsided (for a minute or two), Kenny then pitched a fit about brushing his teeth and was apocalyptic over the idea of sitting on the potty. Only by teaming up on him, were Overboard and I able to get him dressed and downstairs. Remarkably, he calmed down considerably when presented with the invitation to sit in his chair and watch an episode of "Little Einsteins." Afterwards, he begrudgingly sat on the potty again and then was forcibly re-dressed (even though he knows how to do it on his own, Kenny refuses to do this at home) and placed in the car.

Just to mess with us, Kenny was super-duper-awesome in the car, and acted as if none of the earlier histrionics had ever taken place.

After dropping off Overboard at the train station, Kenny and I went to daycare. I'll be honest here and admit that I was quite relieved to let the daycare ladies take over for me, and only hope that he was done freaking out for the day. I really didn't believe that, but I was full of hope.

So why tell you all of this? So I can deliver my big thought for the day: Potty training. It's a [poopy] job, but somebody's got to do it. And luckily, for most of the day, it ain't us.

potty training

Well, we're currently attempting to make the great leap towards a diaper-free Kenny. The adventure began yesterday morning when we had Kenny sit on the potty (where he just sat and played with the toilet paper roll and had Overboard read him a book on using the potty), and then outfitted him in actual big boy underpants (with fire engines and everything).

While watching a little bit of "Little Einsteins" before leaving the house, Kenny christened his new underpants, because he believes in following ceremonial protocols. I discovered this when I scooped him up from his seat and realized that his pants were damp. Wheeeee! No, really, he wheeeed all over his new underpants. Hello? Hello? Is this thing on?

I'm doing my best to not show Kenny any of my OCD, germaphobe neuroses, lest I set back the group effort here. But I will say that this could prove to be the longest two months of my life.

On the upside, he had a very successful day of potty training at daycare, going a respectable 7 for 9, including three poops. Now, I realize that the following sentence was a bit weird to read, and to be honest, a bit odd to type. However, the important thing here is that many kids have issues doing the ol' #2 while learning to use the potty. Not the boy. Of all the things for a parent to be proud of, well, that's...um, that's up there, I suppose.

Kenny also managed to use the potty again at home before bed and when he got up this morning.

Let's just say that parenting can be a surreal experience. This morning I used plastic clappers to applaud my son's ability to pee while seated on the john. If someone did that for me, well, I'd probably have to question what the hell they were doing in the bathroom with me in the first place.

alphabet of dinosaurs

Kenny's Grandma Jackie and Grandpa Alan gave him this awesome book a while back called the "Alphabet of Dinosaurs." It is an A-Z book of dinos, and comes complete with a sing-along CD where a happy man sings all about how "H is for Hypsilophodon" and so on. Each dino gets a little verse about him and Kenny loves the song and the book. A lot. So much so that he has it memorized. Yes, you heard me, my son knows his dinos from Ankylosaurus to Zigongosaurus, and it's phenomenal to listen to him rattle off the names (and anecdotes) as he turns the pages.

Like I've said before, the kid's a genius. Let's hope Mommy and Daddy can keep appeasing him with gifts before he outsmarts us and stages a coup.

grant shares the hockey love

The good news was that our good friend, Grant, snagged himself a plum teaching job after a long search. The bad news was that the job was in California and he had to leave right away. Before he loaded up the truck and headed west, however, we threw him a going away dinner at our place.

In an awesome gesture of hockey love, Grant gave me a parting gift that was immediately put on display in the home office.

See, while I grew up going to Atlanta Flames games with my family, Grant was a Connecticut kid who rooted for the legendary Hartford Whalers. And if you're a student of hockey history, you'll know that the most famous Whaler of all was one Mr. Hockey, aka, Gordie Howe.

Grant donated to the Evenkeel Hockey Depository a well-worn New England Whalers* kid's t-shirt, autographed by one "Gordon Howe." Words do not fully describe how cool this is.


Dig it.

This guy is one of the reasons Evenkeel wears #9 (see also: Richard, Maurice & Hull, Bobby).

And my favorite part? When asked how he could part with such an amazing piece of hockey memorabilia, Grant shrugged and said with a smile, "Easy. I have two of them."


*The New England Whalers were part of the WHA from 1972-1979, before merging with the NHL and becoming the Hartford Whalers (who later moved and became the Carolina Hurricanes in 1997).

bark mitzvah

Today is Sadie's 13th birthday! Which, as we all know, means it is time for her Bark Mitzvah. Sniff. They grow up so fast...

So here's to my girl, who now only trails GG in age (when you adjust for dog years).


Sadie reads her "Arf Torah" portion for the congregation.