Stair master

Jane climbed the stairs all by herself last night. I was behind her, of course, but she pulled herself up on to the landing, looked up at me with a sweet but determined look, and then powered up the stairs.

It's about to get really interesting in our house...

The last stop before the final frontier

The Kennedy Space Center, while not exactly around the corner from Disney World, is well worth the drive. Even if the drive includes an hour of Samson helping his six-year-old cousin, Christopher, realize how glad he is to be an only child.

Jane (and for that matter, Uncle Mike) slept the whole way. I was in the back back [on the way and on the way back] with the sleepers, trapped.

If you've never had an hour of three-year-old knock-knock jokes, all of which contain the punchline "poop," set to the background music of a Nintendo gameboy/kiddie soma device, consider yourself lucky.

Even so, the space center is really impressive. To be honest, any place that has alligators wandering around on the roads is pretty cool in my book. But there were also huge rockets and lots of interesting things to look at (and some to climb on). Not to mention the shuttle Atlantis sitting on the launch pad ready for its next mission.

We even got to see a full-scale model of some segments of the international space station. Samson was very impressed with --- wait for it --- the zero-gravity toilet.

Samson and Jane, discovered?

With Vicki's business in full swing, she's made some contacts with other indie-crafty types. One is a woman who makes all sorts of interesting jewelery and other accessories.

Her company is called Lucky Accessories, and she not only has cool products but great taste. See the "Custom Photo & Art pendants" link here to see what I mean.

The (mostly) Magic Kingdom

So we spent a full day at the Magic Kingdom, which was nice. It was made nicer by the fact that we gamed the system and passed Samson off as two-on-the-cusp-of-turning-three by putting him in the stroller and playing the "who's 2?" game in the car on the way to the park. If you've never played "who's 2?," it's an easy enough game and entails going around to everyone in the car and asking how old each person is. The correct answer, of course, is two. Even Jane got to play.

I should probably have some Catholic guilt about this, but if he'd been three it would have cost us $60 to get him in. Happiest place on earth or not, it seemed a bit much. Not to mention that there's got to be an upside to the whole "is he a bit small for his age?" thing, right?

So the day started off with us being waved to our parking spots by guys who looked like ushers at a Unification Church wedding. We then waited for the tram to take us to the gate. Vicki, for reasons I'm still unclear on, was in front of me, with the stroller folded and slung on her shoulder, Jane in one arm, and Samson standing next to her holding her hand. When the tram pulled up, a 50-something couple literally jumped in front of her (from the next lane over) to get on the tram. For a moment I was speechless.

I was also, owing to their speed and disregard for children, in a different row.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I was sorely tempted to reach across the row --- and across my wife and children, who were seated right next to these Disney enthusiasts --- and land the biggest sucker punch ever landed on the Pluto lot tram.

Of course, I really didn't want Samson's memory of our trip to be "Daddy got arrested" and so managed to seethe quietly until we got off our ride and had our bags checked. Later on in the day, I saw them in front of the Haunted Mansion ride and informed one of the attendants that I'd seen the two of them passing out literature for the American Nazi party.

OK, I didn't really do this, but only because I just thought of it now.

I'll admit to being something of a Disney atheist. It's always had a certain Jonestown meets fannypacks and rides kind of vibe for me. I should explain: My first trip to Disney World was a family vacation that my parents planned for my then 10-year-old sister and me. Of course, my sister and I are four years apart, so I was 14. Do you remember being 14? We spent a week at a very nice place and visited the Magic Kingdom and the rest, and I had fun but I also realized that I'd probably missed the window by a few years. Being taller than Chip and/or Dale kind of puts a damper on the whole thing.

Not to mention the fact that I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out how to a) seem like I was on my own (i.e., not with my parents); b) get the Israeli girls staying at our hotel to notice and be interested in me; and c) get mistaken for a young David Bowie (see objective b). You can guess how it all worked out.

Add to this the fact that I have never been a ride person. I have no fear of heights, but add depths and speed, and I'll pass thank you very much.

Regardless, none of this is to say I don't appreciate the terrific production values of Disney World or the sheer cultural force of the Disney empire.

So anyway, back to the Magic Kingdom. Vicki had diligently researched the best rides for kids, as well as the best times of day to be on those rides, and this proved to be invaluable. We arrived in time for Samson to have as many rides as he wanted on that carousel, and we didn't wait more than 5 minutes to get in to anything. Which is really important when you're with a one-year-old and a three, I mean, two-year-old.

By the way, meeting Mickey is like getting an audience with the Pope. We happened upon his house and then found ourselves in a line with no indication of what lay ahead. A few minutes later we were ushered, by ourselves, into a room with Mickey. All was still and quiet in the room, and the two employees (or "cast members") motioned that Mickey was ready for us. We took some pictures, and he (meaning Mickey) engaged in what had to be the weirdest pantomime I've ever seen, pointing to the "It's my first visit" button and giving a thumbs up [he does have a thumb] and then offering Sam a high-five.

Sam saw the picture of Minnie and asked where she was, and Mickey pointed to his heart. Which was sweet but prompted Samson to look up at me and ask "Why isn't he talking to me?"

Even so, the look on Samson's face was priceless. Jane, on the other hand, was a little freaked out.

Underwriting

You know how on NPR, after each show, the announcer gives you the "this program was made possible with support from..."

We should probably have started each day in Florida with a similar statement: "This vacation was made possible through the generous support of Nana and Papi, in whose timeshare we are staying."

Seriously, we wouldn't have been able to do the trip without that gift, so it's only fitting to say thank you for a great week in sunny Orlando.

Sunshine state

There's no way I'll get to all the stuff that transpired last week in just one post, but I wanted to get something written before heading off to bed.

We got back yesterday morning at around 11 am, which was great except that it necessitated being on a 7:50 am flight, which necessitated being at the airport at 5:30 to return the rental car, get the kids and ourselves through security [and in case you're wondering, we did have to take Jane's shoes off], and settle our traveling circus of two kids, three carry-ons, a stroller and a carseat at the gate.

A quick tip for anyone traveling with kids: If your child uses a white noise machine to sleep, check it with your big bags. We inadvertently gave rise to a Homeland Security seminar yesterday when the "device with a motor" --- as they called it --- was discovered. I had to explain to three different people, who displayed varying degrees of being convinced, what the device was and what it does.

Supervisors were called, other supervisors were called, the machine was x-rayed, swabbed, and the bag it had been in was re-scanned, searched, and then I was patted down. Which was, well, weird. Especially since they never even looked Vicki's way. Not that I wanted her to get patted down, but it was interesting that they saw me as the potential ringleader. I guess I should have been flattered.

Through it all, everyone was very nice and quite professional, but my favorite question was from Officer Diaz [not his real name], who asked "So does it work?" Not understanding what he was asking, I replied that it needed to be plugged in. To which he replied, "No, I mean does it work? I have a six-month old daughter, and we've tried everything to get her to sleep." I guess I should be glad he didn't confiscate it for further examination.

So good times at the check-in. Other than that [oh, and the baby seat bag that was supposed to be checked through splitting its seams at the counter and vomiting out the seat and about 83 diapers we'd clearly overpacked], the airport experience was fairly uneventful. And because we'd been up so early, Sam and Jane slept most of the way home.

Outbound

It has taken the better part of the day to organize and pack, but I think we're ready for our big trip to Florida tomorrow. Samson has been grilling us about flying all week, and despite the fact that it's only a 2-hour flight, we've brought enough toys and snacks for the carry-on to keep him occupied all the way to Bangkok.

Stay tuned...

Choose your own adventure

Part of the nightly ritual for Samson involves me reading him three stories and then telling him one. How this ratio was arrived at I can't recall, but it's been going on like this for some time now.

For the story-telling, it's Sam's job to tell me what he wants to hear about and then I come up with a story. Lately he's into mysteries, so every night we have him and two boys from his class, Jake and Jordan, solve the mystery of the missing something or other. Lately, however, he's been getting very specific. So tonight's story involved "Samson and Jordan and Jake and the mystery of the missing demolition machine."

Also, the girls in his class needed a part. This is not surprising as his class has only 5 boys and something like 11 girls. But beyond his additional casting, the demolition machine had to be Campbell's. We know Campbell, and of all the kids in Sam's class who might have their own demolition machine, she is probably the least likely. She may be the only 3-year-old I've ever seen who wears Uggs. Regardless, the scene was set and so now it was my job to tell the story.

I'll be honest, depending on how tired I am, these stories can be pretty bad. Tonight was a good example. Whenever I'm stuck with a story I just can't figure out a way to tell (especially mysteries involving construction equipment gone missing), I bring in the Super Friends. So when the promised ride on the demolition machine at the garbage museum [site of Campbell's birthday party, natch] did not occur because the machine was missing, a signal was sent to Batman, who spotted Joker and Penguin driving the vehicle through downtown.

What's more (and there's almost always more), Samson and Jordan and Jake were able to help apprehend J & P.

I'll explain: Green Lantern, tracking them with his magic ring, alerted Batman and Robin, in the batcopter, to the villain's whereabouts. Said villains were followed to the harbor, where they boarded a cargo ship. At which point Samson, Jordan, and Jake were deputized by Aquaman to help him coordinate a whale attack on the ship, bumping it from below and into the waiting arms of Superman, who flew the ship (bad guys included) back to the garbage museum, where they apologized to Campbell and the kids, returned all the stolen swag, and then had to watch as all the party goers got their promised ride on the demolition machine and engaged in a little ship breaking.

The end.

A.A. Milne is probably spinning in his grave.

Gratuitous Jane photo

What could I write that wouldn't be superfluous?

There will be blood

OK, not really, but I think I got a little glimpse of Samson the budding robber baron yesterday. We were at the library, and for once he was the oldest kid and sole boy at the train table.

He was barely sharing with a girl who was probably 18 months old, offering her one of the eight trains he had linked together (the tender, no less). I made him give her a few trains to accompany the tender, and the two continued playing around one another.

A few minutes later a second girl arrived. When girl #2 asked if she could play, Samson saw that girl #1 wasn't paying attention and promptly handed girl #2 #1's trains.

What's worse, when #2's grandmother complimented him for sharing, he looked up and gave a big smile and said "thank you."

Adventures in dentistry

I had to get a root canal yesterday. Which sucked. I've actually had this done once before, but this time was way worse. The whole thing dates back to some dental work done years ago that was done improperly and which has screwed up two molars for some time now (teeth 20 and 21 for those of you keeping official score). Apparently, I'm slowly turning into this guy.

My dentist's practice, unbeknownst to me, was sold over the summer, so I arrived to find a new team in place. No big deal. Although the practice is no longer M_____ and R_____, DDS. It's now called "A Touch of Smiles," which I find creepy. I'm not sure why, but there's just something creepy about the words "touch" and "smiles" being used together.

I digress. Owing to my new insurance, I spend 40 minutes in the waiting room while the good people at Blue Cross give the good people at TofS the runaround [come to think of it, the abbreviation is even creepier]. At last, I get authenticated and sent in to see Dr. Ra.

Being a nerd, I was thinking of Ra the sun god of ancient Egypt. Not that I expected a fifty-foot tall statue with a dog head, mind you. But I wasn't expecting a barely 30, slightly taller Lucy-Liu. Her sidekick was sort of a lovechild between Officer Barbrady from SouthPark, the "look into the light" lady from Poltergeist, and Mrs. Pool from Valerie's Family.

The lovely Liu-esque Dr. Ra had a personality not unlike O-Ren Ishii. Clearly Barbrady/Poltergeist lady wasn't Ra's first pick, because she spent half of the time we were all together admonishing her about where to put tools, where not to put tools, which tool she needed NOW, etc. And to be fair, she kind of had a point. I've got half a tooth missing, a metal x-ray holder thingy in my mouth, and B/P drops the lead sweater vest onto me and catches the x-ray holder edge. This was before the Novocaine.

The good dentist, meanwhile, is directly above me, wearing a surgical mask so that all I can see are her eyes, and asking if the Novocaine has taken effect. I, of course, in a sign of perpetual adolescence, am wondering how many chins I have when I'm laying flat in the dentist chair. One would be the good answer, but I'm pretty sure it was something like Pi.

Likewise, I'm wondering what the fact that I have "Outside" magazine with me says about me. Especially since it's clear I'm not on my way to climb anything anytime soon. Should I have brought The New Yorker? Too stuffy? Vanity Fair? Too gay? Should I have placed pictures of my family on the tray so she doesn't think my pleasant, gauze-accented conversation is anything more than that? [I can only imagine what her life must be like. As she was elbow deep in my molar, a guy from the next room came in "just to say thanks." Right.]

I was expecting my old dentist, who made bad Marathon Man jokes and kvetched about how he chose the wrong school for his undergraduate degree. He also used the word "putz" a lot. (As in, "let that crown set. Don't be a putz and chew gum this afternoon with that tooth.")

Anyway, Doc Ra hits my tooth with a metal tool to see if I'm numb, and indeed I am. On the outside of the tooth. Inside is a different story. As God is my witness, I actually rose a few inches off the chair when she hit the inside of the tooth with the drill. It was the kind of white-hot pain that could get me to "confess" to just about anything. Dirty bomb in my Subaru? Sure. Secret love of Ice Capades? Fine, just put down the drill.

She stopped when it became evident I was no longer on the chair, and then said, in an unnervingly (no pun intended) calm voice. "Are you OK? We can give you some more." At which point she injected the Novocaine INTO THE NERVE ITSELF. At least that's what it felt like.

She then said, in the kind of understatement usually reserved for Minnesota farmers after a tornado, "this is going to hurt," and followed it with something that felt like it belonged in a movie trailer: "but it will be the last you feel of anything with that nerve." In a world...

The rest of the procedure went fairly uneventfully, and I have a follow up in two weeks. Stay tuned.

Dept. of Pediatrics

So Jane had her 1-year check-up today, which went about as well as could be expected given that said check-up involved an MMR vaccination and blood drawing for the mandatory lead test.

Actually, what set her off was the stethoscope. Which is weird, because that's just what Samson was afraid of at this age too. Let's hope there's never a Dora/E.R. crossover episode.

Despite the wailing and gnashing of teeth, however, Sweet Jane did just fine. She's not a particularly heavy child, weighing in at only 17 lbs, which is in the 5th percentile for babies her age. But she did grow two inches from her last check-up, putting her solidly in the 50th percentile. And for head circumference, she's in the 25th. All of which is perfectly OK.

And not because we don't want a fat girl with a giant head, but because she eats really well, is crawling and trying to walk, is "talking" almost nonstop, and is just generally a sweet little love. In the inimitable words of our pediatrician, she's "perfectly normal."

I bet if there was a percentile for hair, she'd be in the 150th.

Interestingly, the doctor told Vicki [I was on my own medical adventure this morning; more on this later] that this is the age when babies start to dream. Fascinating.

The little professor

Of course, no party for Jane would be complete without Samson's friends. Here he is offering a commentary on that seminal cinematic feature "Scooby-Doo Meets Batman."

Vicki took this picture and told me he was pointing out that Joker and Penguin "are bad."

The day after

Now that we've all come down from our sugar high, I thought I'd post a few pictures from Jane's first birthday party.

Here's Jane looking incredibly sweet.

Here's Jane looking like an old-school NHL player.


And here's the best possible endorsement for Vicki's homemade chocolate icing.

Good food, good friends, good party. Great cake.

Life with Jane: One year in review

Sweet Jane turns one tomorrow. Of course it's cliche to wonder where the time went, but I still do.

Happy birthday, sugar plum. Mommy and I love you with all our hearts. And so does Samson. Mostly.

Samson the Scrivener?

Of late, young Samson has started using the term "prefer" in conversation. He has been bringing his stuffed animals into our room in the morning, asking which animal we'd "prefer."

Which, much like Bartleby, is not to say that he pays attention to our preferences. Jane clearly wanted his polar bear puppet and ended up with a little plastic Green Lantern action figure.

Speaking of which: Just before Christmas, Vicki was shopping in CostCo and got Samson a three-pack of superheros as a keep-still-and-let-me-finish-shopping bribe. It came with Batman, Aquaman [the last syllable of which Samson pronounces the way you do when someone's name is Peterman or Pittman], and Green Lantern. It's a good bribe gift. Way cooler than the clementines I promise to get him through dinner.

Sidenote: When did Green Lantern stop being a white guy? I'm not a real comic aficionado, but I think I remember enough from the Super Friends cartoons of my youth to know he wasn't always African American.

Bonus sidenote: I do know enough about comics to teach Samson that Batman is the best superhero. Why? Because he chooses to be one. No "guy from another planet" or "radioactive spider bite" or "magic ring." Just good tools and grit. So there you have it.

Also, I have no idea what Robin's deal is, but we've been watching "Scooby Doo meets Batman" a lot lately, and Robin really needs to get some pants.

Little Creatures

A highlight for me on our few day stay in New York was watching Jane and Luke play near, around, and then dangerously close to one another.

In a few years, the eight-month difference between these two won't matter at all, but right now it makes things really interesting.

Still, I think they did just fine. And everyone went home with two working eyes. So win-win.

This will give Vicki's parents flashbacks

Vicki had a ride-on toy called an Ollie when she was little. For her baby shower before Samson was born, her Uncle Tim kindly scoured eBay to find an updated version for the yet-to-arrive Samson.

Because we have the original --- in all its early 1970s glory --- at our place, we left the newer model at my folks' house.

Guess who just discovered it? [Not to be outdone, Samson also "discovered" it.]

Fireman Sam

For Samson, the highlight of our five-day trip to New York was definitely the Long Island Firefighter's Museum. I mean, it was great seeing Papa and Gram and Uncle Greg and Aunt Maura and baby Luke, but none of those people have full-sized firetrucks. Or masks.

Any place that lets him dress up in fireman gear and yell "Emergency. Call 911!" is OK in my book too.

Even Jane got into the spirit (much to Samson's dismay; more on this later).