Monday, January 17, 2011

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."




2 comments:

  1. i love the vision of ike as the incredible hulk pulling refrigerator doors off in a withdrawal induced rage.

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  2. I literally laughed out loud when I read that Harry's neck hurt from talking too much! Maybe that's why my neck hurts?

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