"JACK, SLOW DOWN!" "JACK, PLEASE STOP!" "NOOOOOOOOO JACK!" "JACK, DON'T TOUCH THAT!" It's about mid-morning and I've already said that name 432 times. I guess I'm thankful it's such a simple name to say. I'm also quite thankful I just "holed" myself in the computer room to write you a column. I needed a cave.
About this time last year, I opined about the "terrible twos" not being so terrible. As Jack sprints towards his fourth birthday, all I have to say is WHO-AH! The year of three has been quite adventurous. Don't read me wrong, he's not a bad kid at all, he can just be way too wiggly. If I took 10% of his energy, I could have already run two marathons this morning.
The year of three has been very chatty. This is a good thing, but it can be an obstacle. Forget that certain letters sound nothing like they're suppose to, because you've gotta pick-up what he's saying, and quick. When "tire" means "fire" and "loger" means "yogurt," you've gotta be sharp minded. It's like playing a game of beat-the-clock, because if you don't quickly comprehend, a meltdown is very possible.
Over the past year, repeating myself has become a second hobby. I can be three feet away and Jack hears nothing. I can holler his name fifty times and get no response. Of course, if I whispered the word "cookie," he'd come flying around the corner, open-mouthed. Not to mention, Jack hears everything at night. If there's a thunderstorm in Seattle, he'll let you know...and let you know with a very serious look.
On a more innocent note, Jack had his first huge crush over the past year. You might be thinking it was a classmate, a teacher, or maybe even a babysitter. Nope. My son is head-over-heels for Daisy Duck. I'm serious, the boy is smitten over a cartoon character. Of course, like a friend recently pointed out, better Daisy Duck than Daisy Duke. That's when you've got trouble.
Speaking of "trouble," while writing this column, I've heard several smashes, crashes, thuds, and yells. I've heard a lot of fast-moving footsteps. And, of course, I've heard the word "Jack" another 432 times. As you can imagine, it's been very relaxing being holed-up in the computer room writing you a column. I'm sorta scared to finish it. I've enjoyed my cave.
Whenever I vent to my mom about how wild Jack can be, she just smiles and says, "That boy is mild compared to you." I'm sure there where many moments when my mother wanted to crawl in her bed and get in the fetal position. Who could blame her, I did have the nickname, "Bad News."