Daddy?

Harry's favorite word is "Daddy," though he says it so fast it sounds more like Da-ee. He says it at least 4000 times a day. He says it before he asks a question, as in, "Da-ee, can I play Ben Ten today?" He says it at the end of a question, as in, "Can I play Ben Ten today, Da-ee?" He says it when he's telling me something very important, as in, "Da-ee my balloon isn't up anymore." And he says it when he's telling me something that's not so important, as in, "Da-ee, my balloon isn't up anymore." He even says it when he has nothing to say, as in, "Da-ee... um... um... Da-ee?" At this point, I feel like I'm basically punctuation. When it's career day at school, I'll be introduced as a comma.

Ike says whatever Harry says. Twice. Needless to say I'm starting to rethink those days when all I wanted was to hear the sweet voice of my child say "Daddy."

Harry was talking so much yesterday that at four o'clock in the afternoon he actually said, "Da-ee, my neck's tired from talking." Then he said my name again. And went on to say:

"Sometimes pigeons fly too fast and bump into cars." I agreed. Then he asked me if when that happens, do they die? I said they do. He thought about this, then said, "that's okay, because there's never not going to be pigeons. When one dies there's always going to be more pigeons." As much as Merle hates to admit this, it's true.

At some point recently he learned about patterns. Now he sees them everywhere. Red, blue, red, blue... Ike's book, Harry's book, Ike's book, Harry's book. Vicki (the babysitter), Josefina (the other babysitter), Vicki, Josephina.... He's also crazy about counting as high as he can. He got to 199 the other day. I'm not sure whether or not I should encourage this mathy behavior at such a young age. On the one hand, it's pretty deep. On the other, I envision his future as a rambling lunatic counting parking meters in the Tenderloin.

In a related story, he almost completely lost his shit because I told him "eleventeen" wasn't a number. Ultimately I had to back down. But I know I'm right.

Ike drinks about a 1/2 gallon of juice a day. We're trying to get him to use the toilet but it's like trying to potty train a fountain. Ike is so juice crazy, if we say any word that even sounds like the word "juice," he turns into a murderous crack head. If I told Harry we celebrate Hanukkah because we're "jews," Ike would rip the refrigerator door off. I won't be surprised when Ike pawns our TV for some "apple."

Girls, Girls, Girls

Okay, so the "you look cool" thing is getting out of hand. Harry's saying it to get what he wants. As in, "Daddy, you look cool. Can I watch another show?" No, Harry. Not until your powers of discernment are more refined. I know I don't look cool in pajamas.

The word "cool" is also getting kind of old in the house. Ikey even says it now. And he skips "L" through "P" in his A-B-C's. Don't they know if everything's cool, nothing's cool?

Harry loves the ATM. What kid wouldn't? Buttons, noises, money comes out. It's magic. I tried to explain to him how banks work. That we (read: Mommy) make money from work and the bank keeps it until we need it, and we take it out. He said, "So banks are good." I referred him to Paul Krugman's editorials.

Walking home on a cold day Harry put his hands in his pockets and said, "Daddy, pockets are like hot-chocolate for your hands." I felt weird having such a sweet little kid on my hands at that moment. As though I was definitely going to screw it up somehow.

We were checking the sizes of the shirts in his closet to see which were his and which were Ike's. I explained that Harry wears a four and Ike wears a two (though he wears a four, just like Harry, but it wouldn't have helped my logic lesson). Harry asked me if I wear a thirty-nine. Cute. Then he asked if next year I'd wear a forty. Not quite as cute.

He was going on today about why Iron Man stickers stick better than other ones. Typically, I tuned out, but when he finished his lecture he asked, "right, Daddy?" I absently said, "I don't know, we'll have to get to the bottom of it," and he said, "But we're already on the top of it." If nothing else, it proves I should be listening better.

At the dinner table, Harry asked me who I loved. I said Mommy, Ike, Harry and the rest of our family. Then I asked him the same question. He thought about it and said three girls in his class (who will remain nameless for this article). Three girls. No parents. No family. Here we go.

Quoting Ike without seeing the delivery is unfair because he's a more physical comedian than Harry. But if you haven't already, I strongly recommend getting tickets to his "Making a Muscle." It's not to be missed. Nor is the part in "Peeing on the Potty" when he forgets to tuck his wiener down. That's always a laugh riot. And of course, "Hide and Seek" is a gut-buster too, now that he can count to ten without needing help with his lines.