They let young'uns vote here

Christopher, Daddy and I went to the polls at 7:15 a.m. today - and walked out with our precious "I voted" stickers at 9 a.m. Yes, Christopher got one too - make of that what you will.
Christopher did fairly well with the long wait. Lots of books and goldfish crackers, and riding on daddy's shoulders. Afterward, we celebrated his coming of age at Borders, then let Jack loose in the woods while we played outside. Alas, he always comes back. (Jack, I mean. Not the kid. I don't let the kid go anywhere in the first place. I don't want to know if he would come back.)

Naptime is now helltime

Christopher has decided he doesn't like naps. He still needs them - gets grouchy, falls asleep in the car without them - but he certainly doesn't like them.
We have had every kind of disruption possible. He has taken off his diaper, peed in his crib, taken the sheets off of his crib. And the throwing the stuff out of the crib every day is pretty much routine.
Today, he emptied his water on the floor. And the crib.
Tomorrow, I'm going to put him into the dog crate for his nap. (Kidding, I kid. Probably.)

Fatherly Love

When I was little, we went to the beach every year. And every time we went, my dad built sand castles, took me in the ocean and, once every trip, he dug a fabulous tunnel in the sand.
I didn't know until years later that my dad actually hates sand. Passionately hates it. Learning that was one of the first things that made me start to understand what being a parent - a really good parent - really means, and how much my dad loved (well, loves) me and wanted me to be happy.
On our way home on the Metro on Wednesday night, Brian played with Christopher while I read. After a few minutes, he said quietly "Look at this."
Brian's arm was covered in farm stickers. Christopher was taking them out of his sticker book and putting them on Brian's arm while he worked on finding the right pictures to match them to.
Brian hates stickers more than just about anything in the world. But he was just sitting quietly and watching Christopher put stickers on his arm and take them off again and not even flinching. I felt like my mom must have when she watched my dad, elbow deep in sand and not letting on in any way that he wasn't too happy about it.
I didn't get a very good picture of the scene, but I'll always remember it.

Deer Lake

Everyone's been having adventures outdoors lately.
Yesterday, Christopher and I admired three deer in the woods behind our house. About an hour later, I took Heidi outside, with no leash, forgetting her affinity for deer. I watched as she walked, then jogged toward a suspicious scent, then flat-out ran after the one deer that had hung around. I was worried, but more entranced by the sight of her pursuing the beautiful deer. She was flying down the hill, tail flying, and even from the distance at which I stood I could see her eyes shining and her mouth opened in what seemed to be a smile. But no matter how fast she was, she was after an adult male deer, and she returned, defeated but still smiling, a few minutes later.
Today the four of us - Jack, Heidi Christopher and me - went to the park behind our house. I wanted to walk the dogs on the trail around the lake, but the idea was a disaster. They flew into the lake, leashes still on. They were so fast they almost tipped over the stroller, and Christopher promptly started crying. He wasn't upset or hurt; he wanted to go in the lake too. And he did - waded in about a foot to throw a stick to the dogs and promptly fell in. But he recovered, though his clothes still haven't - as you can see from the picture.

Peace, at the grocery store.

I went to the grocery store alone today. After the past few months of always being, um, accompanied, it was a revelation. I could squeeze fruit. I could read labels. I could browse. I meandered, I wandered. It was wonderful.
I was so into my solitude that when I got to the grocery store, I forgot to talk to the clerk and tell her I had brought reusable bags.
"Sorry," I said. "I was so happy to be here alone, without my son, I guess I zoned out."
"How old is he?" she asked.
"Almost two," I said.
"Mine is seven months, and I love bringing him to the grocery store," she said almost smugly.
I couldn't help it - I laughed and laughed, and then did that annoying more-experienced parent thing. "Just wait," I said.

All the News from Lake-Whatever-It's-Called

Well, we took a turn into the dark side this morning. It was Friday, we got a little wild. We did something - illegal. We waded in the lake behind our house.
I'll give you a moment to collect yourselves.
It started out innocently enough. Jack has been woefully neglected since Heidi's surgery. So I decided to take him down to the lake to go swimming. We also took some of Christopher's toys - a dump truck, shovel, bucket. All the things a young boy needs to stay occupied.
Or, at least, it would have been if not for the large, glimmering lake in front of him. After two minutes of watching Jack bound in and out of the lake, fetching sticks and a tennis ball toy, he was screaming to go in. I occupied him with the toys, small stones and hickory nut shells for a few minutes, and of course, throwing all kinds of things for Jack to take out of the lake, but then he wanted in. So I let him walk on the shore, not quite touching the lake. Then, in a moment of what-the-hell, I let him wade right in. And wade in he did - right up to his stomach, trying to shake me off the whole time (didn't work, of course).
Then I looked around, remembered we weren't supposed to be in this lake, didn't see Jack, and started wondering what kind of terrible creepy crawly things there were in this lake. I mean, whales have been spotted in small bodies of water before. So I grabbed the kid and ran.
Well, Christopher didn't approve. He started screaming. I was fighting to get him in the stroller while looking for Jack. It was a miserable walk back home....but a fun few minutes of wading.

The Keymaster

Christopher has fallen in love - with a set of keys. Keys that are magic - they unlock anything, the car, the front door, the toy box....It's really fascinating to watch him with them. His little lower lip juts out as he tries to see if the key can fit into a hole. He concentrates so hard he's squinting. And when he does get the keys to fit into something, he gets so excited and proud that he's beaming.
Well, I have to go look for the keys again. That's the only problem with the keys - they're small and portable and he keeps losing them.