wild*life

Natesy’s going through that phase where all of a sudden, he’s got an opinion.  And my does he have one.  What, Jaimie, your child has an opinion?  How shocking!  I know, I know… they say it skips a generation.

On the surface, our little Prince of Wails seems to have it pretty easy.  For example, when he drinks his bottle in the morning and before bedtime, he fusses and pushes it back at you until you hold it for him.  No, we don’t fan him with palm fronds… though I’m sure he’d like it.  This week it seems he’s finally holding it with his own hands… perhaps his new found autonomy is about to pay-off.  (Yes, Dr. Antsy told us to switch to a sippy cup at 1, and no, little Mr. Baby Boss just isn’t having it.)

The other day I heard James reply to the incessant complaining, “I know.  Your life is SO hard.”  Believe me, the whining and carrying on doesn’t bring out the best in any of us.

And then I got to thinking… how hard is Nathaniel’s life?  On the surface it seems like it’s all catered meals, chauffeurs, and sponge baths.  But let’s take a moment, just a moment, to indulge the prince…

Is it easy to fall down and hoist yourself back up hundreds of times a day?  The ground, the walls, the furniture—constantly changing and unapologetically knocking you to the floor.  Doors close in your face, pinch your fingers, and otherwise incarcerate you at every turn.  Every day you encounter cupboards that open just enough so you can see but not reach the tempting treasures inside.  Getting shirts over a disproportionate head represents significant panic and probable fashion suffocation.  Everything good is up high.  Everything.  No control, no decision-making authority, a tongue that refuses to cooperate, and everyone on earth seems to be in a position to tell you what you don’t want to hear.

See?  Being royalty isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

This morning Nate Dogg turned on the radio in his room and held his own dance party.  Natesy’s dancing consists of four moves: the right foot stomp, step forward-step back, twirling, and his signature head nod.

The song?  “You Down Wit’ OPP.”

Yeah you know me.

Recently I asked Super Jake if anybody else in his class comes to school in costume.

“Nope.”

That’s my boy.

Jake is a lefty… just like his daddy and Grandma.  Papa is itching to get him into baseball.  Jakey’s into anything that involves throwing, hitting or kicking.  And I’d say he’s got a pretty good shot at being a bona fide athlete.

Now Nate.  We don’t know Nate’s handedness yet, but we do know this one’s got uncanny coordination.  His walk is still a bit Frankensteinesque, but he’s scaling furniture and fixtures Jake has just mastered recently.  Nathaniel has always known how to get down from the couch and bed safely (feet first) without the hours of training we poured into his brother.  I’ve seen him leap onto the high chair and “sail” it across the kitchen.  If Papa’s looking for a baseball protege, he’s got one already prepping for the pitching mound.

Today I scolded him for throwing books.  Throwing blocks.  Throwing horses (at Luke).  Throwing sippy cups.  Throwing bunnies.  And thinking about throwing gas stations.  Not only does he have a mean one-handed fastball, but also a crushing two-handed overhead hurl.  He’s been clocked at 98, easy.

This week James noticed an uncommon silence… only to find Nate poised with the MacBook at the apex of his signature two-handed pitch.

James has been awarded MVP for a remarkable diving catch.

i love
impossibly long eyelashes &
drooldrops &
hand dimples &
towheaded curls &
cheeks like cha siu bao &
enviable lips &
rubber band wrists &
sunlight through little ears &
square feet in round shoes &
big bashful eyes &
those thighs &
you

i love
almond eyes &
straight dark lashes &
sandy curls &
an upturned nose &
matching toes &
dramatic expressions &
apple cheeks &
perfect ears &
little creased chins &
irresistible grins &
you

Yesterday I caught Nate moving the toilet paper roll from the holder on the wall to the back of the toilet tank.  That’s what his daddy does so he can’t reach it.

Tonight we went to dinner at my favorite gourmet food court: San Pedro Square Market.  One time during a semi-meltdown, the guy at the Vietnamese spot actually got Jake to smile, via chicken on a toothpick.  Of course he remembered us the next time we came back and now Jacob only eats Vietnamese.

So tonight we went out for dinner and sat in our usual spot.  After dinner Jake and Daddy went to visit the men’s room.  I’m told the following exchange took place:

Jacob: “Ooooh, who made it so STINKY in here?”
Guy washing his hands at the sink: “I was wondering the same thing.”

Funny enough, the guy in the stall elected not to come out.

It’s May.  Wouldn’t you know, I’ve been meaning to write about Halloween?  Last October marked our third Shasta Halloween.  We got about 450 trick-or-treaters, which was way down from 2010.  I think the problem, or perhaps the financial upside, was that it fell on a Monday.

Jake was a lion, of course.  And Baby Nate was a tiger, a zebra and a lion, for various reasons I can no longer clearly remember.  I think it was one part Mommy indecision and at least two parts scratchy costume rejection.  Daddy was Handy Manny.  I was a lion tamer.

It was the first time Jacob discovered what Halloween was really about.  The year before he didn’t realize we were handing out candy… that was amazing.  Anyway, I’ll never forget this past year when we took JJ to Pat and Clarence’s house next door for his first trick-or-treating encounter.  Pat held the basket of candy out and there was an awkward moment where Jacob wasn’t quite sure what to do… Do I take some candy?  Is she offering me the basket?  His little optimistic self went with the latter.  It still makes me smile.

We spent a good half hour taking him around the neighborhood, coaxing him to approach our scary neighbors (the guy with the life size Harry and the Henderson Bigfoot head still sticks in my mind).  He would startle and jump back as creepy costumed kids passed us on the sidewalk while Natesy just hung out, dressed as the typical strolling zebra.

Halloween sparked Jakey’s enduring interest in the Big Bad Wolf.  And it began the last seven months of wardrobe changes, or as I’m sure he’d call it: Costume R&D.  Each morning his classmates may be greeted by a cowboy, a Giant (the baseball kind), Super Jake (the cape kind), an engineer (the choo choo kind), Fireman Jake (just the boots), Jake the Knight and of course, the always menacing lion.

Recently Jake and James discovered free books on the iPad.  I’m not sure exactly how they chose the two stories they downloaded, but most nights we now listen to strange versions of Goldilocks and The Princess and the Pea.  I say “strange” because they seem to have changed the stories just enough to have avoided copyright infringement.  What throws me off is that Papa Bear’s bed is too hard and Mama Bear’s bed is “too soft and white.”  I do have to say, the stories on the iPad are really cool.  They have embedded puzzles and sounds and my favorite thing in Goldilocks is that if I touch this pot several times it cracks, cracks, cracks and then shatters into pieces.  There’s something quite satisfying about breaking cyber-ceramics.

So back to my story.  These days, the bedtime negotiation consists of limiting the number of “stories on the iPad” in addition to regular books, and the latest addition to Jakey’s negotiation arsenal: “I want you to tell me a story with your mouth.”

This last one is the toughest as every good tale needs a plot, but I also have to be careful of duration as laying down in the bunkbeds is like shooting me with a tranquilizer gun.  This week I’ve told several “princess stories with my mouth.”  A few nights ago I made up a story about Prince William and Princess Kate.  Tonight I exercised a little creative license and made sure Cinderella didn’t marry Prince Charming till after she finished college.

Should I have upped it to grad school?  Nah, you’re probably right… I wouldn’t want to jeopardize the believability of the story.