Daddy Digs Up a Stone
I made good time driving up to Woodbridge Friday afternoon, but more importantly, I made GREAT mileage (over 37.5 mpg!) so the Hybrid seems to be warming up to its raison d'etre. Thirty-eight seconds after walking in the house, however, a terrific storm hit our house, so my gas-nuzzling news was superseded by the news that half a tree split open in our back yard.
Ryan turned 9 months old Friday, too, and as Ainsley had been with him for all but twelve seconds of those nine months, she took advantage of my rare presence and hit the grocery store while Ryan and I made funny noises into each others' bellies. I also turned on SportsCenter since we were in Guy Mode. During one of the commercials, Ryan started slapping one hand on top of his opposite fist, so I asked him if he was actually clapping, so I clapped some, and he clapped back. So cool! He's clapping! He's got rhythm! Who could ask for anything more? Grandad had been after him for some time to get with the self-promoting percussive program.
I called Ainsley at the store to ask how long he'd been clapping, but then it occurred to me that she may not know that he was.
"Did you know your son is clapping?"
"He is?"
"A-ha."
"What were you doing to get him to clap?"
"...I turned on the television."
"A-ha."
Next week I'll turn on my laptop to see if I can get him to crawl.
But I was finally able to see something first! A daddy-sonny moment! His first clap! And he's clapping to beat the band now. Ainsley's nickname for him already is "monkey monkey monkey", so now all he needs is a small fez and some small cymbals.
Saturday we had a few friends over for lunch before tackling the downed limb with My Favorite Outside Toy (the chainsaw). Unfortunately, as I was cleaning up, I noticed another huge limb split fifty feet off the ground, so we'll have to call in some professionals. Or bears.
Sunday we finally cleaned out enough of the garage from my Dayton move that Ainsley could park her car back in there, and then noticed Griffin was licking his foot more than a non-cat usually does. Turns out he had a swollen infected gross toe (Ainsley took him to the vet today, who said he'd split or broke his toenail from the base, so it would either fall off or grow out). Our beloved pets.
After singing some Metallica to Ryan to get him asleep, I drove back to Norfolk around 8:45, expecting an 11:30 arrival, until I hit crappy annoying communist traffic near a tunnel they were spray-cleaning. It took me an hour and a half to go a mile and a half. I crawled into bed at quarter to two this morning.
So good night.
Ryan turned 9 months old Friday, too, and as Ainsley had been with him for all but twelve seconds of those nine months, she took advantage of my rare presence and hit the grocery store while Ryan and I made funny noises into each others' bellies. I also turned on SportsCenter since we were in Guy Mode. During one of the commercials, Ryan started slapping one hand on top of his opposite fist, so I asked him if he was actually clapping, so I clapped some, and he clapped back. So cool! He's clapping! He's got rhythm! Who could ask for anything more? Grandad had been after him for some time to get with the self-promoting percussive program.
I called Ainsley at the store to ask how long he'd been clapping, but then it occurred to me that she may not know that he was.
"Did you know your son is clapping?"
"He is?"
"A-ha."
"What were you doing to get him to clap?"
"...I turned on the television."
"A-ha."
Next week I'll turn on my laptop to see if I can get him to crawl.
But I was finally able to see something first! A daddy-sonny moment! His first clap! And he's clapping to beat the band now. Ainsley's nickname for him already is "monkey monkey monkey", so now all he needs is a small fez and some small cymbals.
Saturday we had a few friends over for lunch before tackling the downed limb with My Favorite Outside Toy (the chainsaw). Unfortunately, as I was cleaning up, I noticed another huge limb split fifty feet off the ground, so we'll have to call in some professionals. Or bears.
Sunday we finally cleaned out enough of the garage from my Dayton move that Ainsley could park her car back in there, and then noticed Griffin was licking his foot more than a non-cat usually does. Turns out he had a swollen infected gross toe (Ainsley took him to the vet today, who said he'd split or broke his toenail from the base, so it would either fall off or grow out). Our beloved pets.
After singing some Metallica to Ryan to get him asleep, I drove back to Norfolk around 8:45, expecting an 11:30 arrival, until I hit crappy annoying communist traffic near a tunnel they were spray-cleaning. It took me an hour and a half to go a mile and a half. I crawled into bed at quarter to two this morning.
So good night.
posted by Dan at 7:15 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home