I’ve been so busy at work that it just occurred to me that not only have I not posted on the Blog for some time now, but that I haven’t posted my
I get into STL late Friday afternoon and wait in the parking lot for Ami’ and his mom to arrive. They pull in and I creep up to his window. Eventually he looks out the window, sees me, and gives me what I would call the classic Ami’ shy smile. It involves a big grin while looking away. The key from the exchange though is he immediately says “daddy!” There are no pictures of me in his mom’s apartment that I can see, and definitely non in his room, so he’s either going from memory or his mom shows him my picture every now and again. I’ve also kept my appearance somewhat the same since returning from
The first night was ok for the most part. Dinner was uneventful except for the fact that I watched my son down some chicken like a true meat eater! His mom has pretty much had him on a vegetarian diet, complete with Soy Milk (I disagreed with the Soy Milk but didn’t bother to press it). So I was pretty surprised when she told me that he now eats chicken. He knocked back a couple of chicken strips from Denny’s like it was going out of style. I made up my mind at that point that considering his not so sturdy health history, several instances of diabetes, high blood pressure, and high cholesterol in my family, that he’d be limited to grilled chicken if/when he does chow down on chicken around me. I’m not a big fan of giving him a lot of sugar for the above reasons either, but I’ll admit to downing a shake with the kid the next day. Everything in moderation…right!?
His personality continues to blossom as does his vocabulary (though I’m still struggling with weak baby-talk fu). Couple of things that are probably routine, but that I got a kick out of include:
- “Help me dad” as he tries to climb onto the bed;
- “Throw the ball dad” as he stands with his waffle ball bat in hand ready to lay into one.
His coordination has also increased significantly. Ami’ used to throw a ball that when released would go every which way but straight ahead. He was getting them to me with some heat last week. Now if I can just get him to throw lefty!
We spent a good bit of time reading his new book, Horton Hears a Who. A few weeks ago I swung into Borders to see if I could find him a new book (somewhat silly of me since I have about 2 boxes full of books for the kid sitting in my apartment) and ran smack dab into one of those pop-up versions of the Seuss classic. Had to get it! Though he spent more time trying to yank the pop-up pics out of the book, I think he genuinely enjoyed the story. It probably helped that I kept making silly noises when reading the book. Which reminds me of something else: If I say “what!” in about the same way the rapper Lil’ John says “yeah!” (I’m not a fan, but find a youtube of the dude and you’ll get it), it absolutely cracks Ami’ up. At one point he let out a barrage of farts (forgive the language) he was laughing so much. Of course he promptly starting saying “what!” which drove home the fact that you definitely have to watch what you say around this kid. The other sign of that was him saying “Oh My Gosh” or “Oh My Goodness” just about every 10 seconds. At one point the waitress in Applebee’s asked me in a distinctly alarmed voice whether the boy had just said “Oh my God!”
Friday night also saw the introduction of someone named George. Not sure if this was some imaginary friend or someone he actually knows, but he proceeds to tell me about someone named George pushing him. This brings up an interesting subject I’ve been thinking about since the trip. At some point I’m going to have to teach Ami’ some self-defense skills, but something else that happened the following day confirmed that my response to this George guy pushing him was that it required an immediate action on his part. I told him that if George should push him again, to tell him “stop pushing me” and “get away from me man!” Perhaps not the most clear guidance to a 2.7 year old, but I emphasized the need for him to stand up for himself! Anyway, no sooner do I tell him that than he’s running around saying “Dad, get away from me man!” I cried a few times over that weekend when Ami’ wasn’t looking. It’s hard to explain, but being in Baghdad and dealing with the situation there made me miss my family but I dealt with that far better than I’m dealing with being back here and not being able to see him, in person or on Skype, except for one weekend a month. But as much as I cried, I laughed twice as much because this kid of mine is a riot with some of the stuff he does.
Sunday morning we’re up with the Ami’ internal alarm going off at 6am for his morning milk (thought ahead and picked up some single boxes of milk and had them sitting on ice ready to go!). We watch cartoons and roll out to get some breakfast. Denny’s gets the nod and the kid orders his own meal! French toast sticks, no syrup please! From there we hit the outlet mall where I know there’s a big playground. Panic ensues when I’m not finding the playground and Ami’ is tugging on my shirt saying “I want go playground Dad!” A quick call to my friend Stacey confirms there is a playground in the mall and soon enough we find it. We spend what must be the next 5 hours in that joint. Ami’ is all over the place! He’s running around in circles, running in place, darting up the stairs and back down, and the entire time he’s keeping an eye on me. At one point a little girl takes interest in him and Amiri approaches her in a way that has me thinking he’s going to plant a big kiss on her, but he gets shy on me, just like his old man. But then I spot something that once again reminds of the need to teach the little youth to stand up for himself. He finds the slide and comes flying down with clear delight. I tell him to go again and he goes flying up the stairs and does it a few more times. Around the 4th time I’m at the bottom of the slide waiting and there’s no sign of Ami’ coming down. I see him standing at the top of the slide, next in line, but kids are cutting in front of him and he’s just standing there. I wait a little while longer to see if he’s going to come forward and it becomes clear to me that not only is he pretty ticked off at all the people skipping him, but he’s also about to cry. So I try to coax him along, but he’s not budging and all the while kids are cutting in front of him. Eventually I stop the whole works and have about a 5 minute discussion where I tell him to make sure no one else cuts in front of him because he’s next in line. Not so sure the lesson sank in, but it certainly did for the kids standing around him and for several parents who immediately walk up to check on their kids. Eventually he comes down and gets back into the swing of things, but that little episode has been playing over and over in my mind. One of many lessons I’ll need to drill into Ami’, but in a constructive way. I’ve heard from his mom over and over again how insensitive I can be, so telling my 2.7 year old son to suck it up and stand up for himself probably won’t cut it. But I’ll figure out a way to get the lesson across. I’ll definitely be teaching him some self-defense skills once he reaches age 6, but critical to his development as a man will be teaching him that solving problems shouldn’t have to involve throwing blows, while at the same time teaching him that sometimes, throwing blows is the only language some people understand. Lots of stuff to sort out there.
We get back to the hotel after all that playing and the kid is knocked out. It dawns on me that he hasn’t used the potty since leaving the house that morning, but throughout the day he insists he doesn’t need to potty. Well after about a 3 hour nap he wakes up absolutely, positively hollering. Upon picking him up I discover that he is soaked. I clean him up, give him a bath, calm him down and we settle on crab legs as the dinner plan (the boy LOVES crab legs). We hit Red Lobster and surprisingly he gets busy on the crab legs. I also manage to convince him to try the cheese bread, though he it took quite some convincing to get him to that point. The boy is still a pretty finicky eater. In good spirits, we head back to the hotel where he becomes enthralled with the bull riding program on tv, and believe it or not, after getting ready for bed, we spend the next 30 minutes watching bull riding, with Ami’ yelling out “Oh my gosh” every time a bull throws a rider. Pure comedy. The next morning it’s back home and on the way he’s telling me all the stuff he has to tell his mom. “Daddy, I tell momma I poopoo in the potty.” Dad, I tell mom I eat crab legs.” “Dad, I tell momma I go to playground.” Smart kid. Funny thing about my son though – when it’s time to say goodbye, he says goodbye. I drop him off and prepare to head out to catch my flight. He hasn’t had breakfast yet and I call that in to his mom on the way to their apartment. She has breakfast ready for him when we get there and he pretty much ditches me instantly! I have to ask for a hug and a kiss goodbye before heading out. Like I said, funny kid!
All in all we had a great time. The weather sucked (way too cold) so photo opportunities were pretty slim. Took a few at the playground and a few in the hotel room, but nothing particularly impressive. I’ll be heading back up in a few weeks and hopefully the temps will have risen by then, and the sun will be shining. A friend from
