Tuesday, Sept. 27: Bikes and trucker donuts

Nom nom nom.

Gavin and I walked up to the rail yard near our house to see the trucks and while we were there some truckers gave us donuts. Well, more specifically, a trucking company had a booth set up in the parking lot promoting the fact that they are hiring (imagine that, someone in Michigan is hiring!) and one of the guys from the booth called over to us, asking if we wanted a donut. It all looked pretty up-and-up and so I said to Gavin, "Do you want to get a donut from a trucker?" and Gavin said, "Yes." The guy came over with two full boxes of Tim Horton's donuts. He opened it and held it out to Gavin and said, "Which one do you want?" and Gavin simultaneously reached out and said, "This one" and grabbed a pumpkin spice donut and went to immediately devour it before I prompted him to say thank you. I don't think Gavin's mind even registered that there were different kinds of donuts to choose from in that box, I think he was more like, "Oh my a whole donut must act fast before I wake up from this dream." Before we knew it the man had given us both boxes of donuts and we were off to our neighbor Megan's house because she has four kids and goodness knows I don't need a dozen+ donuts in my house unless I want to weigh an additional 50 lbs. before the weekend.

Hard core biker.

In other news, Gavin can ride a bike. When we went over to drop off the donuts, Gavin wanted to ride this black and green bike that actually came from one of the other neighbor's trash and now belongs to Megan's kids. Or perhaps one of them in particular, but I'm not sure who. Looking at the bike it's not a big mystery why it was in the trash to begin with. The back tire is completely bald. The pedals provide forward momentum about 70% of the time. The rest of the time the bald back tire just sputters against the sidewalk with no traction. It is a bike that is seemingly designed (or, I suppose, damaged) to frustrate children learning to ride a bike. It has training wheels, so that's a big help. Gavin has been trying to ride this bike all summer but the whole "pedaling" thing eluded him. But no longer. He rode that bike all the way to the park and back this evening. Granted he'd need a very gentle push start when the back tire would stall, but that wasn't his fault. He actually has a little bike of his own that our neighbor Maurice gave to him. It's a nice little bike, and it looks brand new. But it doesn't have training wheels and the tires need air. I didn't even think he'd be able to ride it until after the winter so I hadn't even gotten him training wheels yet, but now it's imperative that I pimp his bike out pronto. And get him a helmet. Because I suspect he'll be quite the speed demon once he's using a bike that's not on its last legs.

Sunday, September 25, 2011: Smoothie operator

Gavin was using the blender all day today to make smoothies. Yes, it was the real blender, no it was not plugged in. He was helping Stacy in the kitchen and saw her use the blender. I'm not sure what she was blending, but she used the "pulse" function, so when Gavin was using it he would imitate the noise by making a series of loud grunting sounds. Ungh, ugnh, ughn! Beforehand he would advise us, "Cover ears. This loud," all no-nonsense. He has a taste for the exotic flavor combinations, at least when it comes to smoothies. He made Stacy a sausage-kiwi one and later bacon-apple for Jamie. To "cook" he uses his little plush foods we got for him at Ikea. He mixes the fruits and vegetables, some of which are very much standard or at least understandable smoothie fare (carrots, apples, cucumbers), with his breakfast foods set, which is the reason for his "gourmet" flavors.

In other news, Gavin can read now. Okay, that's not exactly true, but he can and does recognize the capital letters G and D and O on his own. He's been recognizing G for awhile, it is, after all, for Gavin. But I've been pointing out that D is for Mama D. We were reading a book this morning that featured capital Ds and Gs on the cover and though I can't remember what book, he pointed out the Gs and I pointed out the Ds. Later, after his nap, while reading Go Dogs Go with Stacy, he pointed to the G and said, "G for Gavin," and then he pointed to the D and said, "D." Stacy's mind was pretty blown.

What can I say, I have a smart kid. A big kid, too. The other day at school I ran into a co-worker who has a son in Kindergarten and she said that her son weighs as much as mine (somewhere around 32 pounds). I predict he's going to be a big'un. The other day Amanda and I were in the van after coming home from my Aunt Michaelene and Cousin Umeko's house and Gavin had taken his shoes and socks off on the way home. I saw his tiny balled up sock on the ground and I told Amanda that when I find little sweatsocks around the house I think it's adorable, but it won't be long before I'm finding sweatsocks far larger than mine on the floor and instead of, "He's so cute," I'll probably be more like, "Goddammit." But for now, I'm soaking up as much as I can while he's still incapable of such transgressions.

The other day while climbing into his booster seat at the kitchen table he said, "I'm a big boy." He also uses "maybe" a lot. Like today he heard an airplane flying overhead while we were eating dinner and he said to me, "What's that sound?" and then he answered his own question saying, "Maybe airplane flying in sky." I agreed that's what it sounded like. And then he said, clearly not done with his guesses, "Maybe airplane go down." Maybe, man, but we don't want to be anywhere near here if that does happen. Granted, he doesn't mean an airplane crash, though that's what it sounds like. When we were on our plane home from Mexico, during landing Gavin kept saying, "Airplane go down" which only sounds more and more alarming when it is said over and over.

Stacy and Gavin went to the store this afternoon to buy real recipes for real smoothies. So hopefully my household will soon have smoothies made of real fruits and veggies instead of felt slabs of butter, a plush apple half and some fake sausage.

Sunday, Sept. 4, 2011: Slam dunk

So, Gavin got baptized today. In the Catholic Church, no less. It's a long story. I'm not Catholic. Stacy's not Catholic. In fact, we aren't even Christian. Don't believe in God, in fact.

So how and why did this baptism thing happen? My dad. He believes in that stuff and it was important to him and Stacy and I were all, "Sure, why not?" If it makes my dad sleep better at night thinking that Gavin is now on some e-vite list to some future party in the sky then why not do it? My mom also believes in that sort of thing and so even though she's not Catholic, she is happy about it, too.

It's kind of a delicate situation, because I know that baptism is a big deal for some folks, surely for the priest that did Gavin's, and so I don't mean to come across like a total dick about it. To each her own and all that. I'm just saying that Gavin's baptism wasn't exactly life changing or earth shattering, but more of a way to do something that my dad feels is meaningful for his grandson. So that's that.

Gavin's response to getting baptized? "Gavin hair all wet." He thought the whole thing was pretty cool.

Like I said, I'm not religious. I did grow up going to an Episcopal church. I should really say I was forced to go to an Episcopal church and that I hated every second of it. In any case, I still know "The Lord's Prayer" by heart and was able to recite it today, no problem. As a poet, I appreciate the prayer as verse. It is quite nice, actually. When I was a kid, whenever I heard, "Our father who art in heaven," I always pictured God (a dude with a beard, naturally) with an easel in front of him holding a paintbrush just, you know, doing art. Arting (verb). Hallowed by thy name and all that.

Friday, Sept. 2, 2011: 14 years later

Yesterday was my anniversary. Stacy and I have been together 14 years. While Gavin was eating his lunch yesterday I told him, "I'm taking Mommy out to dinner because it's our anniversary. Can you say, 'Happy Anniversary'?" He said, "Happy," and then paused for a long time, a look of serious consideration on his face, and then he said, "birthday."

I took her to The Whitney because that's where she said she wanted to go and where she probably thought I would not take her. After 14 years I can still surprise my wife by exceeding her low expectations. That's a recipe for marriage success.

I also bought and wore a skirt for the occasion, as well as a sleeveless shirt to go with it. When Gavin got up from his nap I said, "Help me pick out what to wear tonight," and while Gavin and I gazed into my closet, it was readily apparent that I didn't have anything to wear. I knew Stacy would be disappointed if I looked like I was just going to work, so I told Gavin, "Get your shoes on, we have to go to Old Navy." Because Old Navy is where you go when you need an outfit to wear to The Whitney on a date with your wife after 14 years together. Obviously. (In my defense I had a strong suspicion that they would have a skirt that was not too ostentatious for my tastes -- basically if a nun wouldn't wear it I probably wouldn't either -- and I know how their clothes fit me for the most part). If you are ever looking for a last minute date outfit I highly recommend you take a two-year-old shopping with you. I'm not actually kidding. Knowing that Gavin had a limited attention span for lady-clothes shopping made for a Supermarket Sweep style shopping experience. I found a skirt and a top in less than ten minutes, tried them on in four, and purchased them and was out the door in under 20 minutes. There was no time for overthinking or hemming and hawing about things like "size" and "fit." I ended up with an XXL skirt I needed to secure around my waist with rope and an XS blouse that I needed to Ace-bandage myself Yentl-style in order to squeeze into it. I'm kidding. Both the skirt and the shirt fit and Stacy was impressed. So basically I bought myself an outfit for her anniversary present. Like I said, I'm pretty much the best wife.