We had a good trip. But it was a long trip. Especially, so it seemed, for The Boy. He did a lot of sitting in his car seat. Then more sitting in his stroller. Then more in the car seat, then in and out of the stroller at the MN state fair, then yet more car seat. He was (mostly) a champ.
We were all pretty blitzed by the time we got to my parents’ house on Thursday evening. Adding the State Fair to that on Friday was just too much. We were wiped out, so we noodled around St. Paul Saturday morning, then drove home Saturday afternoon.
And slept on Sunday. Monday, some, too.
Last night, we went over to Millennium Park for the Chicago Jazz Philharmonic. It was awesome! Man if you’ve never heard a 70-piece orchestra swing…
We (primarially The Boy and I) also spent some quality time at the Crown Fountain. That was also very cool.
Today, there’s the second day of the conference on tap, plus a vist to a college friend’s new pad in Evanston for dinner. Tomorrow, some kicking around downtown in the morning, then off to grandma’s house in the afternoon.
The Wife, The Boy and I went down into Confederate territory yesterday; all the way to Michigan Ave. in Chi-Town. I’m down here for a conference on designing web sites; gonna hear some of my heroes in the field tell me the way it is. The Wife and The Boy are headed for Millennium Park today to go get in some dancing and running around. Later, there’s a pool and hopefully some better sleep on the agenda.
Last night, after we got settled into the *tiny* hotel room on the 11th floor of the Marriott, The Boy was all “Go home now?” I was all like “I hear, you kiddo, but Daddy’s a masochist, so go to sleep, now.”
In my web travels yesterday, I came across the Library of Congress website and noticed their “Lifelong Literacy” project. Of course I didn’t follow the link. But I did start thinking about what and how and when I read to The Boy and to myself. I decided that I need to start a deliberate campaign of introducing new reading material several times a week to both The Boy and the me.
Here’s my plan: Every couple of days, I’m gonna swing by one of the local public libraries and raid the children’s section and take a few new books home. I’m also going to (re)start reading fiction and poetry, and maybe even essays along with all the technical mumbo-jumbo I already have on my bookshelf. In addition, I’m going to order a few magazines for The Boy and for me, so there’s another source of fresh information and ideas coming into the house. I’m also going to try to print a poem a day to read to The Boy and The Wife. I’ll start with Billy Collins’s Poetry 180 website.
All this thinking about reading naturally led to me thinking about music, visual art, and performing art, too. Basically, it all comes down to wanting more contact with art in my life, and in The Boy’s life. I’m pretty sure The Wife won’t object either. I want to expose The Boy to at least one new song a day, as well as listening to favorites, and it’d be great if I can figure out a hi-fi way to get visual and performing arts a part of our daily diet, too.
Of course, all the tech stuff and other bits and bobs needs to stay in our lives, too, along with a healthy dose of running around, screaming like banshees, brandishing trains.
Well, sorta. It will be once I get off my dead ass and get the links in my theme somewhere. But for now, check out “Brews you can use.” Chris is a funny, funny man. Sometimes. But he’s always poignant. And it doesn’t hurt that a) we went to school together, and b) he officially (as of now, when I started the damn thing) belongs to the “Geeks Who Can Kick Your Ass” club.
*Bounce!* “Daddy catch… me!” *gigglegigglesnort bounce!* “Daddy… catch… Auken!” *gigglesnortbounce thwack!*
“Wow, I bet that hurt.”
“Here, let Daddy kiss it and make it better.”
“Don’t tell Mom you broke the wall, OK?”
*gigglesnort* “Daddy… catch…” *Bounce!*
Got out of work today feeling nausous, headachy, and generally crappy. Went home to a pizza oven of a house. Got convinced (not much of a job there, lemme tell ya) to go to Bayview Beach (where The Wife and I got hitched; remember?). And then life got waaaay better.
The water was *perfect.* The temperature was *perfect.* The white sand beach was uncrowded. The breeze kept the bugs (almost) away and brought little waves up for about two straight hours of “toddler surfing.” Man, life is good.
Me thinks we’ll be livin’ at the beach this week. It’s hot (highs in the mid 90s) and humid, and supposed to stay that way for at least the rest of the week. Last night, we went swimming after dinner, and I think The Wife and Boy are planning to meet up with a friend and hit the water again this morning. And golly gosh, after work, you know what would feel really good? I’ll give you a hint: it ain’t cooking.
Last night, The Boy learned all about “going underwater.” He charged right out from shore, headed to the middle of the bay (which is really no big deal, since you can easily go for an eighth of a mile with no appreciable depth change), and promptly tripped over a pile of rocks. He went under. He came back up. He kept right on going out until he was taking little waves in the face. Then he turned to me and said, “Daddy, jump slow-fast.” (In case you didn’t know, that’s Toddler Code for, “You there, Parental Unit. Lift me slowly above your head with a big, stupid grin on your face. Once you reach the point of isokinetic muscular fatigue, hurl me into the sky, then catch me just before I impact the surface of your small planet. Hurry along, now.”) We jumped our way along the bay, with The Boy landing a little deeper each time until he was mostly underwater. Each time he went under, he’d come up spluttering and coughing, then point up and say, “jump gain, pleeze.”