Rambling Rhodes

Kinkajou!

I don't have to explain myself

Aiden laughs at, well, I'm not sure

Walking to a Crawl

It sometimes seems as if the boy has decided he has no interest whatsoever with the concept of crawling. Oh, sure, he was all excited when he figured out how to roll onto his stomach and back again, but at some point, I think the novelty wore off for him.

That's not to say he's given up on the concept of human locomotion, it's just that he often appears to think he can forego the step of crawling and graduate right on up to walking. Put him on his stomach (tummy time), and he'll usually fuss and complain and roll back on his back as soon as possible; but prop him in a standing position and he'll talk and sing and exhibit surprising balance for someone so young.

Plus, when he's lying on his back, he tends to kick his legs and drum his arms almost in unison, as if he's a member of some tiny, stationary marching band. Even though he seems to understand and possess the mechanics for crawling, he's much more enthusiastic about the mechanics of walking.

Personally, I blame his baby toys. I use the term "toys," but really, babies today are equipped with baby platforms. For example, our son loves his "Jumperoo," which is basically a miniature bungee-jumping system that can entertain a baby for up to and exceeding half-an-hour. When we first put our son in the Jumperoo, sometime around Christmas, he was perplexed, but he quickly learned to master the Jumperoo mechanics. Nowadays, when we place him in the device, he bounces endlessly in that toy like an astronaught bounding around on the moon.

He also has this baby platform we've taken to simply calling "the saucer toy." With this large, circular contraption, you place your baby in the center of a saucer round table that's equipped with all manner of interactive, and mind-clangingly-loud devices. Our son can rotate himself a full 360 degrees within the saucer toy, and it can keep him occupied for up to an hour at times. Watching him play within his saucer toy, it's not hard to imagine him making all sorts of split-second decisions at the console of a space-craft, or nuclear launch platform. I keep expecting to hear Capt. Picard's voice instruct me to "Engage."

All of these toys, however, prop my boy in a standing position, so I can sort of understand why he might build it up in his mind that walking is the logical next step. When we do "tummy time," we basically put him on a blanket and put interesting toys just out of reach to encourage him to roll onto his stomach. What fun is that compared to a Jumperoo or saucer toy? If I were six months old, and I was taken out of a Jumperoo and placed on the floor, I'd assume I was being punished for something.

So, crawling continues to elude my boy, and quite frankly he seems perfectly OK, almost happy, with that. As a Dad, I sometimes think he should be making more crawling progress, but then I watch him march in place on his back, singing and cooing and I'm forced to think "Well, he sure doesn't seem worried, so why should I be?"

Besides, once he does start crawling, I have to really start thinking about what to do about the cat door that leads to the basement stairs, and I frankly have no idea about that.

Hot Trots

Last night, the temperatures were in the mid-50s, and the setting sun was still radiating through the trees, so my wife and I decided to bundle up the boy and go for a walk.

Because our son had already been on two stroller walks that day with his babysitter/grandfather, we opted to mix things up a bit by using a body harness instead. For those not familiar with baby body harnesses, they're kind of like a kangaroo pouch you wear over your stomach, and your baby basically dangles there in the pouch, surveying all around him.

Whenever I wear the harness and I have the boy perched on my tummy, I always think of Kuato in the movie "Total Recall." I keep expecting my boy to turn to me and say "Quaid, release your mind."

Now, I've worn the harness before, and I've never had any problems. The thing is, all the other times I've worn the harness, I hadn't recently ingested pork ribs and French fries dipped in Bad Boy hot sauce. Last night, I DID ingest pork ribs and French fries dipped in Bad Boy hot sauce before strapping on the baby harness.

Believe me, the difference was intense.

About 3/4 of a mile into our walk, the weight of my son pressing on my stomach became increasingly noticeable, so much so that I barely even acknowledged his repeated soft kicking on my groin. Apparently, my son's weight on my stomach was doing strange things to the chemical make-up of my intestinal tract, which had begun roiling and churning like a ship lost in an ocean storm.

Eventually, I reached an unpleasant conclusion; that being, it was incredibly unlikely I would be able to make it back to the house without the immediate appearance of an accessible toilet. Further, the likelihood of said triumphant return was made even less viable so long as I had Kuato strapped to my chest.

I stopped in my tracks, and my wife helped me to hurriedly remove the harness, all the while laughing at me and my unfortunate situation. I hastily kissed my son's forehead, and I could have sworn he looked at me and said "Quaid, release your bowels!"

And then I started to run. Admittedly, I ran as gingerly as possible, but run I did. I had a good mile-and-a-half to cover and each jogging step was ever more uncertain than the step that preceded it.

By the time I reached the front steps, I was basically in agony. The battle between the unstoppable force and the immovable object was rapidly being won by the unstoppable force.

I won't go into further detail about how close I came to complete disaster, but I'll conclude with: whoa, that was CLOSE.

Method to My Madness

For those of you wondering why my blog has basically become a repository for baby videos, there's a good reason, and it's not that I'm obsessive about chronicling my son's every moment.

Rather, posting videos here is a good way for his grandparents wintering in Arizona to stay up to date and get their regular grandson fix.

Deep Thoughts

Aiden's ABCs

Hunting?

So, I saw the following classified ad on a Star-Tribune Web page:

Hunting equipment? A cannon? What the hell are you hunting? Brontosaurus?

Duff beer

Ryan: Today's question: What did Hilary Duff do today to warrant all the searches for naked pictures of her to my blog? Did she have sex with Corey Haim?

Caroline: My knowledge of Hilary Duff isn't current.

Ryan: I think I've only seen one movie in which she starred. It was some sort of contemporary teen spinoff on "Cinderella."

Caroline: Ah yes

Ryan: There was a lot of texting, if I recall correctly. Which makes for AWESOME cinema.

Caroline: Which would you rather watch: texting or man-on-man action

Ryan: That's certainly a question I didn't anticipate today.

Ryan: But, texting, now that you forced me to think about it.

Caroline: I ask the tough questions.

Ryan: Not tough, necessarily, but definitely unexpected.

Caroline: I ask the unexpected questions.

Turtle Tummy Time

Aiden Talks About His Day

50 feet???

Caroline: I just read on the PB about that former Mayo doctor whose Prius had accelerator and brake problems. I would shit my pants if I couldn't stop my car.

Ryan: Just put it in neutral.

Ryan: That was my very first reaction when all this Toyota accelerator stuff started hitting the news.

Caroline: That's what my husband says, but ... I can't believe people didn't try that.

Caroline: A part of me thinks putting it in neutral wouldn't work under those circumstances. I can't explain why not. I'm not a mechanic.

Ryan: Once it's in neutral, you're fine. In the Dr.'s case, his brakes also apparently failed, which would suck a bit more.

Caroline: I think that's what many people have been experiencing. The double whammy

Ryan: Something in the P-B article doesn't make sense: "happened a split second after he gently pressed the accelerator on his Prius to back the car up about 50 feet into a hotel parking space in Palatine, Ill., a suburb of Chicago. "

Ryan: 50 feet? Was it Paul Bunyan's parking lot?

Caroline: Well, the Prius IS a small car.

Ryan: Why would you be backing up for 50 feet?

Caroline: I don't know!

Ryan: And that former doctor specifically said he "gently" pushed the accelerator. Why be gentle when you have to traverse 50 feet? What kind of parking space was this?

Caroline: Man. I wish you were the reporter who interviewed the guy. The story would've been so different.

Ryan: HEADLINE: "Former Doctor Requires 50 Feet to Back Into Parking Space"

Caroline: LOLO! That's a lead burier.

Ryan: SUB-HEAD: "Likely Fell Asleep Traversing Distance; Blames Toyota Instead"

Personal Chronological Observance Day

Today, I am 35 years old. I remember thinking, when I was in elementary school, that 35 was a very old age. I was quite wise for a 3rd grader.

I was probably better at math back then, too.

Still, there are some perks:

Incidentally, I'm holding a bottle of Ultra Death hot sauce, and let me tell you, it's true to its name.