Grey Stone Green

Regarding Pirate Names...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Tue, 16 Aug 2016 15:08:00 +0000

On the way to school/work today...

TH: Dadda, were there pirates in the Great Lakes?
Me: Not sure, bud. We can look it up later, though. I think most of them spent time in the Caribbean, like Blackbeard. Remember we went to that pirate museum in St. Augustine?
TH: Oh, that's right. I remember.
*6 seconds of silence*
TH: Dadda, if you were a pirate, you'd be 'Whitebeard'.
Me: ...
TH: Hahahahahahaha!

Regarding Jaguars...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Tue, 09 Aug 2016 14:31:00 +0000

After spending the ENTIRE day at the zoo on Sunday, the Tiny Human and I were driving home and I asked him what was his favorite thing he saw.

TH: I don't know, Dadda. What was yours?
Me: Mine was the jaguar, I think.
TH: oh, me, too! I loved seeing the jaguar!
Me: Do you remember where they are from?
TH: Great Britain.
Me: ?? Ummm, are you sure about that?
TH: Yeah, they are made in Great Britain!
Me: Made? Wait, are you talking about the old J-type Jaguar we saw near the airport on the way home?
TH: Yeah, what are you taking about?
Me: *sigh*

Those Aren't Pockets...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Mon, 27 Jun 2016 18:37:00 +0000

Me: No, remember we talked about this before, buddy. That's not a pocket in your underwear.
F: What's it for then?
Me: [quietly explains the purpose of the opening in underwear]
F: So... It's a peepee pocket.
Me: No, that's not-
F: I have a peepee pocket! Peepee pocket! Peepee pocket!
Me: *sigh*
F: [runs out of the room] peepee pocket! Peepee pocket!
Me: Just... *sigh*

Medical Emergencies

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Tue, 24 Mar 2015 16:44:00 +0000

F "hurt" himself this morning (the most minor of scrapes, barely 1/8" in both width and length).

F: Dadda, I hurt myself.
Me: I see that, bud. Want me to look at it?
F: No, we need to get some leeches!
Me: What? why?
F: To suck out the bad blood!!
Me: isn't that a little extreme??

Another one of those situations where I have no idea where he gets this from...

Chicken Pot Pie

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Tue, 24 Mar 2015 16:38:00 +0000

Last night we were trying to think of things we could make for supper; my wife said, "What about a chicken pot pie?"

And from the hearth room, where the little one was playing with Legos, we heard, "Chicken pot, chicken pot, chicken pot piiiiiee...."

‪#‎parentingdoneright‬

Chicken pot, chicken pot, chicken pot piiiiiiee...

Asparagus Basil Frittata

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Tue, 24 Mar 2015 15:37:00 +0000

Ingredients:

1 Tbsp olive oil
3 red potatoes
asparagus (a bunch, whatever quantity that is)
¼ cup of green onions (I use about three stalks)
2 cloves garlic
6 eggs
1/3 cup milk
1 Tbsp mustard powder
salt, pepper to taste

1 container basil/tomato feta cheese (whatever size container that is – 2oz? 6 oz? I don’t know…)
1 bunch of fresh basil
Healthy But Non-Vegetarian Option: Package of (6) turkey sausage links

Steps:
If you’re going to add them, set up a small skillet and brown the turkey sausage links per directions on a back burner.

Dice the potatoes. In a 10” oven-safe skillet (I recommend cast iron, about Size 8), heat the oil and sauté the potatoes for about 10 minutes on medium heat.

While that is cooking, snap the asparagus stalks at the natural breaking point. Put the bottom half in the compost bin and chop the upper half into bite-sized pieces. I cut mine at angles because I’m fancy; obviously you don’t have to do that. Chop the green onion and dice/press the garlic, while you’re at it. These three prepped items can be kept in the same bowl/plate. (I always organize my cooking by what ingredients are added at the same time, FYI.)

Crack the eggs into a larger metal bowl (shells to compost bin). Add the milk, mustard, salt, and pepper and whisk well.

When potatoes are done, add the asparagus, onions, and garlic and sauté for another 6-8 minutes or so. (Like my vagueness? I only do that when I’m cooking and I get it from my mum.) While those are cooking, dice the sausage (if adding). When potato/veggie mix is done, add sausage and mix up well.

Pour egg mixture into skillet. Occasionally push down the side of the pan with a spatula and tilt the pan to get runny egg mixture into the gap for better cooking. When there is still just a bit of uncooked egg on the top, add the feta cheese to the top of the mixture.

Put in oven on High broil for 3 minutes to finish cooking the top part and melt/partially brown the feta cheese. While the frittata is broiling, roll up the basil leaves and cut them into thin ribbons.

Remove from oven and sprinkle with the basil. Cut into slices and serve.

Take picture of awesome easy and fast dish and post on favourite social media platform.

He's almost got it...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Wed, 31 Dec 2014 17:14:00 +0000

Last night, I was cleaning and putting away the cutting board and the large curved pizza cutter. It was given to us as a "cheese cutter" by Dana's uncle, so when Finley asked what it was, I told him it was a cheese cutter and explained that you use it when you're cutting the cheese.

The first person to laugh at that phrase was not the 4.5 year old boy, who, as it turns out, wasn't aware of the euphemism. It wasn't even the 41 year old boy, who knew exactly what he was saying! It was the mom/wife (age undisclosed) who snickered. When Finley wanted to know why she was laughing, I explained what the phrase meant. He of course thought it was hilarious.

Finley had his first dentist appointment this morning. While we were waiting for Doctor Mike, we played in the kids' play area...

F: *giggle*
Me: What's so funny?
F: I just cheese cutted. *laugh*
Me: I think we need to work on our euphemisms, Bunny.

He doesn't usually mix phrases up like that, but I love how he takes recently-learned knowledge and puts it right to good use (yes, even when it's recently-learned potty knowledge).

The View From Finley's Room...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Wed, 18 Jun 2014 14:24:00 +0000

Last night I was folding laundry in the bedroom when I heard the following come from Finley's room:

Finley: Look, momma! It's a full moon!
Dana: That looks more like a rocket to me!

I thought about it for a second and then called out:

Me: Is he naked??
Dana: Yes.

I wonder what kinds of stories parents of little girls have that I'll never get to experience.

I've been sitting on a few other stories that happened recently, wondering if I should put them down for posterity or if maybe parents who only have girls are better off not knowing just what kind of fun they're missing.

Buying Gifts For Yourself...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Mon, 09 Jun 2014 14:48:00 +0000

Finley and I were in the play area at the mall while Dana shopped for some work clothes yesterday.

A little girl, who was too big for the play area and kept bothering Finley to play with her, came up to me and said, "WE'RE here at the mall because MY dad is going to buy ME some headphones."

I turned to her and asked, "Do you like to watch the movie Frozen when you are in the car?"

She grinned and nodded, "EVERY time we drive ANYwhere!"

I smiled sweetly and said, "Then the headphones are for your daddy, honey."

I looked up to smile at her dad, but he was too busy on his iPhone to notice her daughter talking to a complete stranger.

The Kilted Woodworker - The Next Generation

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Fri, 06 Jun 2014 15:57:00 +0000

The other day, Finley wanted to come down into the shop with me and make some boats.

I cut off a nice piece of pine for a larger boat bottom and then cut up a bunch of smaller pieces of wood (pine, cherry, walnut, mahogany) for use as cabins and such. Then Finley dug through the wood trash box I keep by the door to the shop, which is where I put plane shavings and wood waste at the end of the day, and pulled out some scraps of wood he thought were cool.

I got a coping saw (now his coping saw) and showed him how it can be used to cut curves. It has a nice old thick blade on it that resists snapping much better than the newer blades. I might even touch up the teeth on it with a file to get it back to "very sharp" and just keep that blade on it, because I know he'll snap the newer blades in no time.

By the way, wearing the kilt was completely his idea. I picked out the London shirt, and then put on my own t-shirt that says "London" on it to wear with my kilt. He liked the continuity.

We cut the pine blank into the shape of a boat bottom and then I showed him how to use his block plane to smooth the cut. I was the one doing the planing, because it was an unusual shape, but I'm sorry I didn't take any pictures of it! I was amazed at how well that old block plane works still. Those old blades take and hold an edge very well.

Then we laid out the pieces where he wanted them and I helped him glue them up. For expediency's sake, we used a hot glue gun - they're just quick wooden toys, so I'm not worried about them lasting very long. When we build anything meant to last longer, we'll use Elmer's white glue (which is, incidentally, what I use in my box making - it works just as well as "wood" glue and costs much less. I wait until stores are having Back To School sales and buy it in little bottles, so I don't ever worry about it going bad.

I couldn't get him to not make a goofy face - he was just really excited to be in the shop, making stuff with dad. I can accept that...

Once Upon A Time...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Fri, 06 Jun 2014 14:57:00 +0000

Yesterday when we were driving home from work/school, Finley asked if I wanted to hear a song. I said of course I would and he started singing...

Finley: Once upon a time there was an engineer, drove a locomotive both far and near. Umm... Ac... accom...
Me: Accompanied
Finley: Accompanied by a monkey who would sit on a stool, watching everything the engineer would do.
Me: *tear*
Finley: I don't know any more of it, though. It's kind of a long song.
Me: Well, we can work on it, buddy.

So we listened to Grateful Dead all the way home. And I watched him (in the rear view mirror) listen intently as the songs played, trying to memorize the lyrics.

Sharing With Dadda

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Thu, 05 Jun 2014 19:10:00 +0000

Finley: Here, Dadda, you can have some of my NutterButters!
Me: Aw, thanks, bud! Hey, wait a sec...

Me: Did you lick off all the fake peanut butter and just give me the cookie part???
Finley: Ummm.. Maybe!

I still ate them.

Captain Sideburns To The Rescue!

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Tue, 20 May 2014 14:43:00 +0000

Finley: Dadda, Chase is Batman and Noah is Spiderman. What superhero could I be?
Me: You could be Wolverine - he has Adamantine claws and always heals his wounds.
Finley eyes me dubiously.
Me: He also has big sideburns like Dadda.
Finley: I want to be WOLVERINE, then!
Me: *tear*
Finley runs to his mom, shouting, "Momma, I have SIDEBURNS!"

Not sure I need to add anything more to this. Except to say that it constantly amazes me how much he understands and pays attention to everything around him. A little while after the above conversation, he asked me, "Dadda, if Wolverine can heal his wounds, can he get cancer?"

Even at three, he is obviously affected by experiences with cancer in our lives. When he was two, our next door neighbor passed away after fighting liver cancer through three remissions. And his grammy is now a breast cancer survivor, though the treatments have obviously left her physically changed. So when I told him Wolverine would never die from cancer, that bolstered his enthusiasm for being him when they play superheroes at school.

It sealed the deal when I started showing him pictures of the animal Wolverine was named after. He wanted to pet its fuzzy head.

Man vs. Grammar

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Wed, 23 Apr 2014 16:07:00 +0000

I grew up with parents who were constantly correcting my grammar. It wasn't ever done in a bad way or to belittle or annoy me. They never used a condescending tone (though my dad's corrections occasionally carried a hint of impatience); they were just helping me build my grammatical toolbox, so to speak.

Yeah, I'll admit it - I got tired of hearing my mom question my use of "snuck" with, "How do you decline 'to sneak'? Sneak, Snack, Snuck?" And my dad STILL gets after me about my use of 'bring' and 'take' (because it apparently still eludes me).

But I don't fault them their efforts. In fact, looking back on it all with the wisdom of hindsight, I appreciate what they tried to do. I enjoy speaking properly. I'm obsessed with plays on words and obscure grammatical humor. Funny enough, Finley is, too. We spend entire car rides talking about sentence structure and rhyming words. This is probably why, at age three, he is already making puns and jokes that are, in my mind, brilliantly funny.

Because my parents were so successful (I think so, anyway) with teaching me how to speak properly, it should come as no surprise that Dana and I use similar techniques with Finley. We don't berate him for using the wrong word or incorrect grammar; instead, we gently suggest the right word when appropriate. Nine times out of ten, he picks up on it, repeating the phrase with the appropriate word. If he misses the cue, we don't press the point - not every moment is a good time for instruction. It is much easier to recognize that than get in a grammatical fight with a three year old.

Turns out this is very much in-line with the Montessori method of teaching/correcting grammar, so we feel doubly justified in keeping this up.

One of the few times when we don't even bother correcting him is when Finely wants to get down from his chair after dinner. Once he started sitting in a chair without a booster seat, we began enforcing the rule that you have to excuse yourself from the table when you are done. During this first lesson, he kept getting "Can I" and "May I" mixed up and started asking, "Man I please be excused?"

He says it in such a cute, tiny voice and we smile every time. It's one of our reminders that he is still just a little boy and we've never had the heart to correct him. I guess every kid needs to have something little quirky phrase, right? That is his.

I suppose it could backfire on us. My brother had a similar situation with my niece. Her favorite color was yellow and she always said it with an "L" at the beginning, instead of a "Y". She didn't switch the letters with any other word starting with a "Y"; just "lellow". So nobody ever bothered correcting her.

At some point in her first week of kindergarten, she came home from school very angry and embarrassed and she let all of us have it! Apparently, when she asked for the lellow crayon during coloring time, someone told her she was saying the word wrong. She asked the teacher if the other child was correct and the teacher confirmed she was. She'd been saying it wrong for three years and nobody bothered to tell her. Twelve years later, we still hear about it every now and again.

This morning, I went into Finley's room to make sure he was doing OK getting ready for school. One of the cats was sitting on his bed. He was bent over her, rubbing his cheek in her fur (she's super soft) and making noises. I approached them to see what they were doing...

Finley: meow meow merow meow
Me: What was that?
Finley: I was speaking to Baby Teeters in Kitty.
Me: Oh, I see.
Finley: Now I'm speaking to you in Man.

I smiled. I kneeled down and gave him a big hug. I kissed him on his forehead. But I didn't correct his grammar. It was, I think, more important to just sit back and enjoy seeing how his little brain works on its own.

Maybe I'll correct it the next time.

You! I Learned It From Watching You!

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Mon, 14 Apr 2014 19:57:00 +0000

I've decided I have to start writing in this blog again, if only to record some of the hilarious/amusing/interesting things that little boy does.

His understanding of words and language and humor constantly amazes me.

Last month, we were on vacation in Florida. One day, walking on a path near some coastal water, we saw a little hermit crab scuttling about and this conversation ensued...

Me: Look, Finley, a hermit crab!
Finley: Cool! Can I pick him up?
Me: Sorry, buddy, I don't think picking him up would be a good idea.
Finley: Well, can I CRAB him?

Seriously, he came up with that in a matter of seconds. Also, it's hard to be stern when you're laughing.

Last night, we were building stuff in his bedroom before bed...

Finley: Dadda, now I'm going to make a goats car.
Me: A goats car? What does it do?
Finley: It goats places.

Damn, I walked right into that one.

My first reaction is always, "I have no idea where he gets this!" But if I think about it for about two seconds, I do know. If I don't think about it, my wife is quick to point out it is me. I even know WHEN he picks it up.

Finley and I spend almost an hour every day (going to and from work/school) talking about things. The subject changes almost daily, like word origin and why the sun rises later and later every day in the spring and what happens when you die (my least favorite topic, to be sure) and how come wet sand is better than dry sand when making sand castles. And, periodically, we play games where we just go back and forth, rhyming words or phrases.

I don't ever think of it as "work" and I don't think he does, either. But it seems to be having a profound effect on his vocabulary. I think we'll keep it up.

The Putting Things In Places Phase Begins...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Mon, 20 Aug 2012 17:38:00 +0000

Though I've never actually done it, I have to imagine pulling a subwoofer out of an Audi A4 is a fairly straight-forward task. Open the trunk. Disconnect some wires. Remove some hex bolts or lag screws. Pull out the subwoofer. Done.

I would bet it is easier than pulling a 1:24 model Audi A4 with a surfboard roof rack out of a stereo subwoofer. This, I can proudly say, I have now done.

Challenge: Remove a 1:24 model Audi A4 (with surfboard roof rack) out of a Sony stereo subwoofer.

Method #1: Try sticking hand in to get it.
Nope, can't even get my hand into the sound hole past my thumb. The wife laughs from the sofa, but congratulates me on trying the obvious first.

Method #2: Try having the youngling stick his hand in to get it.
That also-obvious attempt didn't work, either. You end up with a monkey trap, where he grabs the car around the roof and tries to pull it out, only to fail because the car can't pass through the hole sideways. This results in a frustrated two year old and an even more frustrated father, comically trying to tell his two year old son how to grab the car by the front to pull it out. The wife laughs on from the sofa.

Alright, off to the kitchen for some tools. Dadda returns and attempts...

Method #3: Salad tongs
Ultimately, no, though this tool was involved in about half of the 170-some-odd attempts at car removal. In the end, it was too bulky to try and manipulate the car through the subwoofer hole. I could grab the car with the tongs, but not position it properly for removal. And the car was juuuust a bit smaller than the sound hole, so it had to be positioned properly for removal.

Method #4: Cooking Chopsticks
Again, ultimately, no. I can pick up anything from a grain of rice to a dumpling with a pair of chopsticks. Apparently, an Audi A4 still eludes me. At some point, I was alternating between using the chopsticks to position the car and the salad tongs to try and grab it. Repeat, ad nauseum, because it just wasn't working.

Almost lost an eye at around the 25 minute mark, when I was alternating between chopsticks and salad tongs, because the youngling picked up the chopsticks-now-miniature-light-sabers and began jabbing them around the subwoofer opening (where my head happened to be). Bit inside of cheek trying to not yell at the youngling for helping his dadda.

Method #5: Gravity
After a half hour, I was starting to get desperate. I tried balancing the subwoofer on a magazine rack, sound hole facing down, to see if I could use gravity as an aid to my chopsticks. Almost dropped the subwoofer on my head and decided to quit trying that method before I broke the subwoofer... or my head.

Method #6: Mechanical
Flipped the subwoofer on its side and tried to pry the screen off for easier access to the inside of the subwoofer. This made me very nervous and I didn't really try that hard for fear of breaking the screen. Or the subwoofer. Or the salad tongs I was using to pry the screen off the subwoofer.

Metho.... oh, crap. Where's the car?? After flipping the subwoofer around to balance it on the magazine rack and then laying it on its side, it appeared the car had become wedged somewhere inside the subwoofer. Bugger. I ended up thinking it through and reversing the previous actions of flipping the subwoofer on its side and balancing it on the magazine rack. Finally, I heard the satisfying plink of a 1:24 model Audi A4 with surfboard roof rack rolling around inside the subwoofer again. *whew*

Method #7: Ramp
At some point, I ended up with the car on its wheels on the bottom of the inside of the subwoofer. I entertained myself for a minute by pushing the car to the back of the subwoofer using a chopstick, then letting it go. It's the kind of car you can pull back and it winds up and takes off when you let it go. It would drive forward and biff into the front edge of the inside of the sound hole. I laid there on the living room floor, wishing I had that cupboard with the indian in it so I could have him make me a ramp inside the subwoofer. Then I wondered if the Rats of Nihm would be too upset about the four mice I'd recently converted to "dead" in the garage to offer me a helping tail. I seriously did consider making a wooden tongue depressor ramp for about 30 seconds, but, ultimately, common sense won out.

Method #8: Pastry Knife
Ahh... old tool shopping comes to the rescue! About three years ago, digging through a workbench of old tools at an estate sale, I came across several old paint scrapers (one with a rosewood handle and two with walnut handles). I snatched them up! (How often have you seen a production-made paint scraper with rosewood handles?) I also spied a narrow (about 3/4"), long (7" or so?) pastry knife, also with walnut handles. For $.50, I snatched it up, too. The former tools went into the workshop while the latter tool went into the kitchen drawer, after a bit of scrubbing with some scotchbrite pads and cleaning solution and a nice coat of paste wax on the now-clean handle.

Anyway, as I was pushing the Audi to the back of the subwoofer with the chopstick, using the surfboard roof rack, I noted there was a thin space between the roof rack and the roof. Hmmm... I might be able to wedge something between the two, if I had a long enough and thin enough piece of metal!

The first thing to come to my mind was that pastry knife, and I knew right where it was.

And, viola! Not 30 seconds later, I had the blade of the pastry knife wedged under the roof rack and was slowly pulling the car out of the subwoofer. WOOT! Job well done, Dadda! It's Milla' time!

A few hours later, my wife mentioned something about the downstairs toilet not flushing properly. In a panic, my eyes immediately looked to the coffee table to see if the 1:24 model Audi A4 with a surfboard roof rack was missing...

He Takes His Straight Up

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Mon, 13 Aug 2012 16:41:00 +0000

Phone call from Grammy-the-Baby-Sitter, with Finley crying in the background...

"Is it unreasonable to refuse the request for a spoonful of Ovaltine?"

(In the background, I hear Finley crying, "Spoon! Spoon!")

"Er... well..."

"Really?!? I thought he was making it up."

"No, he generally gets one when we're making some up for him to drink. As an aside," I quickly add, "Dana started that..."

What can I say? Sometimes you have to skip the middle man and just put the Ovaltine straight into your mouth.

Also, my son has a chocolate sweet tooth.

Frozen Peas vs. Popsicles

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Thu, 09 Aug 2012 16:35:00 +0000

"Frozen peas."
(The way he says it, it sounds more like, "Frooo-zen peeeees.")

"You want some frozen peas?"

"Yeah."
("Yeee-aah")

"Ok, I'll get you some frozen peas."

I pour some frozen peas into a bowl and give it to him. Finley sits at his small table, eating frozen peas. (They're not that bad; you should try them some time!) After a bit, he stands up and walks over to the refrigerator. He reaches up and tries to open the freezer, saying, "Popsicle! Popsicle!"

"Well... you can have a popsicle when you're done with your frozen peas."

Finley stares at me a moment. I can see gears turning in that little brain of his and I wonder what he's thinking.

Finally, he walks over to the small table, picks up his half-finished bowl of frozen peas, holds it out to me, and says, "Done!" with a big grin on his face.

He raises his eyebrows and queries, "Popsicle?"

...

*le sigh*

Well played, little youngling. Well played.

Note To Self: Next time, I need to say, "As soon as you eat all of your frozen peas, you can have a popsicle."

Mother Is The Necessity Of Invention...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Mon, 23 Jul 2012 13:34:00 +0000

This last Friday I had to run out to the store on my lunch break to try and find some of those door knob safety covers. The not-yet-two-year-old figured out how to open round door knobs a while back. Apparently he now has the hand strength to follow through.

One evening last week, in the midst of a meltdown, the youngling finally realized his mom was in the hall bathroom with the door closed (and trying to keep quiet until the meltdown was over). After banging his head on the door did nothing to remove the obstacle from his way, he decided to try what he'd seen us do umpteen times. He reached up, grabbed the door knob, and started turning it.

It took him about a minute or so to get enough of a turn for the mechanism to clear the latch. Fortunately for his mom, he'd distracted himself with the realization that he could open the door, so she didn't have to deal with toddler melt down.

But not wanting to provide any positive reinforcement for opening doors, we didn't say one thing about opening the door. We hoped he would forget.

No good. Our son has the memory of an elephant.

Finley and the Cat Door

Thursday evening, a door once again separated son from mother; she was downstairs in the basement, feeding the cats. Finley got tired of talking to her through the cat door, so he stood up, reached for the door knob, and had it open in about two seconds.

Oh, bother.

Sometimes, it's fun to see him learn, like when you're playing a matching game with him on the iPad and the concept of the game "clicks" and he knows exactly what he's supposed to do.

But there are other times when we see him figure something out and we immediately understand this new skill will result in us having to work even harder to keep him from getting into trouble.

Family Photos

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Fri, 01 Jun 2012 19:45:00 +0000

Over the Memorial Day weekend, our friend, Shefy, took some family photos for us in Forest Park.

http://www.shefalilindsey.com/2012/06/01/family-ethandanafinley/

The rocking chair in the last two pictures has been used for three or four generations of childhood pictures.

Finley On Star Wars: 22 Months

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Tue, 29 May 2012 19:37:00 +0000

No, I haven't let him watch Star Wars yet. I'm going to wait until he's at least two.

But, through various influences (toys at the sitters, older nephews, me), Finley already has exposure to things like light sabers and R2-D2. Now, any object that is long and tube-shaped, like wrapping paper tubes and brooms (the latter is something Dana showed him the other day... I'm sure that will come back to bite her), becomes a light saber in his hands - complete with sound effects, even.

So, as Finley and I were "sparring" yesterday evening, I tried to get him to recite a few lines for me...

Me: Finley, can you say (in a deep voice), "Luke, I am your faaa-ther"?
Finley (in a deep voice): Luke, I am... Dadda.

More proof that he's not just a tape recorder! We never use the term "father" in our house, so I was impressed he made the connection.

Not sure how long we're going to be able to hold out before he gets his first "real" light saber. I'm sure it will be the first time we walk past them in Target with him in the shopping cart...

It's that time of year again...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 15:23:00 +0000

In our little family, the first weekend after Halloween is Tree Raising Weekend!

I'm not much for the commercial celebration of Christmas, but I sure love the feeling I get, surrounded by soft lights and greenery and... plaid tree skilts.

(Did I just coin a new word??)

I didn't used to feel that way. I used to dread the winter holidays. Some of my more dominant memories were always of people bickering and fighting about having too many or not enough ornaments on the tree and lots of hustle and bustle and parties where I had to behave properly (or, better yet, not be seen).

When I was still dating my wife, the topic came up as we were decorating her mom's Christmas tree. Or, rather, as THEY were decorating the tree and I was sitting in the other room not having a terribly good time. That day I realized something - that I had to make my own positive Christmas memories, that I've changed a lot over the years and it doesn't have to be a holiday I hate!

So, the year we moved into our new house, we decided to start a new tradition and get into the holiday season a little earlier than most. We always make a small party of it - invite a few close friends over to a good meal, good beer, Christmas music (this year's first album was Rob Crabtree's A Piper Christmas, which is a repeat from last year... it's a great album!) and then we went to something a little more hands-off, using Pandora to (mostly) play a good variety of holiday tunes. (I say "mostly" because Pandora and I have been known to fight about what is deemed "good" music.)

We've minimized the dangers to Finley a bit by only using non-breakable ornaments. We try to stick to wooden ones, when we can find them, but also use cloth, pressed tin, and pine cone ornaments, as well. He seems to be drawn to the simple ones, like little sleigh bells on a cord. He certainly had a blast last night. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the tree stays up all season without any major mishaps...

While the tree is the main decoration, it isn't the first. The first decoration I always put up is a lighted wreath out on the front porch. I love seeing how long it takes my neighbor across the street to get a wreath up on his front door, too. I imagine the discussion with his wife to be something like, "Well THEY already have decorations up... why don't we??" "Alright, I'll get started on them this weekend... *mumble mumble* damned neighbor and his Christmas spirit *mumble mumble*"

(It's usually about two weeks.)

As per her usual, Baby Teeters took position under the tree before we even had it totally put together. This time of the year, if the tree lights are on, you will find her sleeping under it. She does look lovely under there, I must say. She tends to leave the presents alone, as long as I leave a spot for her to sleep, but I have had to re-wrap a few over the years.

Let me be the first to wish you a very Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I hope the season brings you the same kind of joy I get from it.

Yes, this is pretty much how I felt when I was there, too...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 14:55:00 +0000

I seem to be in a really good music groove lately.

When I first started listening to Mumford & Sons, it wasn't long thereafter that I saw them play a few songs on VH1's Unplugged. My only real disappointment was that the show was a half hour long and they only aired three songs. I wanted more!

And one of the songs, England, wasn't even theirs! It is by The National, an indie band out of Cincinnati, OH. Fortunately, it's a great song. I love the original version. But I think M&S made it just a little better...

I've only spent a week in London (two weeks total in the UK) so far in my life, and it was a while ago, but I still have very vivid memories of the general atmosphere, of the places we visited, and of the people we met.

I remember being awed into silence during the drizzly walk back from Westminster Abby after listening to the choir. I recall thinking it would be hard to sit in such an overwhelming and monumental building, listening to the beautiful sounds of the boys' choir, and not have your belief in a higher power be strengthened. And this was even in my rebellious, flop-but-shaved haircut, long black trench coat, spiked bracelet and boots days.

When visiting another cathedral (the name of which leaves me at the moment), we entered from the east and ended up leaving the grounds from the west. Upon exiting, I figured if I just turned left, and then made two more lefts, I'd end up back where I started. So I turned left. After about 15 minutes of walking, I realized I'd never come across any way of turning left! I looked back behind me to see the whole rest of the group following... as if I knew where I was going. I was having a good time, so I didn't say anything, but kept walking. Eventually, we ended up in a residential neighborhood, where we walked past a cemetery to see two men digging a grave out by hand. I waved. They stopped to stare at the punk teenager leading a group of people on a walk down a quiet street in the outskirts of London.

In Bath, while walking through one of the markets, I was approached by a couple with a German Shepard; they were panhandling for money. I'd seen most people shy away from them - two less-than-kept Brits with dreadlocks and a mangy dog. But, really, they were quite nice and the dog wasn't at all sickly or mangy-looking. I told them I wouldn't give them any money, but if they were hungry I would buy them lunch. (That's always my way of finding out if they really want the money for food or for something else.) To my good fortune, they agreed, and I spent an hour visiting with them, chatting about anything and everything and nothing - where they were from and where I was from and what brought us to that spot on that day. I remember the visit with the homeless British couple more than going to see the old Roman baths, to be honest with you.

I don't often find music that stirs such memories in me...

I want more.

The Little Kiltie Makes An Appearance

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 20:45:00 +0000

The St. Louis Scottish Festival is always on the first weekend of October. And unless I'm off on some damned fool adventure (like attending the Woodworking In America conference in Cincinnati, OH, which was my excuse last year), there's a good chance you'll see me there in one of my kilts.

And now there's a good chance you'll see Finley there in his kilt, as well. His new kilt (it was a new size, not a new tartan, which is Ancient Campbell) was delivered just in time, thanks to Neil at Baby Kilts. (You might also take note of the fact that Finley is one of the babies pictured on the front page of Neil's website... yeah, he's a model.)

It was interesting to see what aspects of the festival Finley liked and didn't like. For example, we thought the pipe and drum bands would be too loud for him, but he loved them! He kept leading us closer and closer, though we stopped far enough away that it wasn't too loud for his sensitive little ears.

On the other hand, he wasn't at all interested in the border collie demonstration, where they herded a bunch of sheep around the field. I thought that weird because he always like dogs, but he really couldn't have been bothered. Maybe it was the angle we had to watch it from. Or maybe the police helicopter flying overhead was too much of a distraction.

At one time (this was before I was born, in the early 70's), I think my parents may have been the only proud owners of a herd of highland cattle in the state of Missouri. They didn't last but a year or two, though. Apparently highland cattle don't like fences and are quite deft when it comes to circumventing them. Or, at least, they were good at breaking free from the fences on our farm. After chasing them down one too many times, the diminutive bovines ended up on a shipping truck. I don't know if my mom has any pictures of them - if I find any, I'll append this post with them.

Watching Finley's reaction to the two highland cattle at the St. Louis Scottish Games made me want to go out and get another herd! He really enjoyed getting up close to them and they're small enough that they didn't scare him. I venture to say he could have ridden one...

(As an aside, I think these cows were probably raised in America, because I didn't hear any kind of accent when they mooed. Not even a bad Kevin Costner one...)

I Heart This...

noreply@blogger.com (Ethan) — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 15:58:00 +0000

If I still used a CD player, my Sigh No More CD would possibly never leave it.

(Crap. You know you're getting old when things you used to do have become "proverbial"...)

So I don't have the album on CD, but it is on my iTouch. And I listen to Mumford & Sons daily (I don't just listen to this album all day long, but it does get played at least once a day).

If you've not heard them yet, then here is a taste.

I don't often come across new music that resonates in my soul like these guys do. Thought I would share...

Coming up... a few weeks ago, Finley came face-to-face with his first Highland cow. Will post pictures before this weekend. :)