Tagged: sea treatures

My Son, the Shark Expert

Sea Treatures

“I lining up my sea treatures.”

As you may remember, my son absolutely loves “sea treatures,” particularly sharks. In addition to an extensive collection of shark toys, he’s amassed quite a library of shark books, which he’s dutifully studied for months, resulting in a wealth of knowledge that continues to surprise my wife and me daily.

While reading him books before bed recently, we’ve noticed that he’s become quite the expert, which has prompted my wife to continually remind me:

“We NEED to get this on tape.”

As I’ve found over and over again, moments like these are fleeting, and while it seems like an everyday thing now, he could very well become obsessed with something else tomorrow and the Son Shark Show would be abruptly and tragically canceled. And so with this in mind, I sat down with him the other night, phone in hand, to document his aquatic expertise once and for all.

Here, for your viewing pleasure, is my son naming all of the sharks (and a few other treatures) in one of his very favorite books, Amazing Sharks and Sea Creatures, while his persistent daddy tries to keep him focused.

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Mug of War

Mug of War

It was early in the morning and since Mommy had just left for work, it was time for Daddy to take the stage for my daily variety show. Although I’ve been known to perform intimate acoustic Disney-song concerts, reproduce Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” on the Magna Doodle, and even regularly scare the robotic tigers my son has imagined into existence back into “other houses, but not this house,” I was feeling especially wiped out on this particular morning. The Twins had just gotten over a nasty cold, and had so generously shared it with me, so as I sleepily hacked up a lung, I decided I needed a power-up and fired up our Keurig (arguably the best purchase we have made as new parents). And yes, I realize that coffee is not a fantastic idea when one has a cold, as it discourages hydration, but when one is accustomed to caffeine every morning, one is inclined to not pile the withdrawal headache on top of fiery sinuses and a gravelly throat. So there.

“Daddy?” my daughter half-whined. “You come play in my room?”

This is a new fun game I play with my daughter. She recently has become enamored with the novelty of playing with all of her toys with Daddy in her room. So much so, in fact, that every moment of every day I am home with them, my presence is requested in her room.

This, of course, would be fine if I didn’t have another child who expects an equal amount of Daddy’s attention. But I do, and there are times when I’m in the middle of building a perfectly-scaled replica of Mount Rushmore with Duplos with my son, or helping him line up his beloved “sea treatures” on the floor by species, and can’t just drop everything to “go play in her room.”

Help!And so I tell her “No,” invariably triggering a hissy fit which lasts way longer than it needs to. In fact, just the other day, I was rocking The Beatles’ Help! on vinyl at my son’s request (yeah, he’s pretty awesome), and in the middle of the opening title track, my little girl invited me to play in her room. After I explained that Daddy and Brother were busy doing Awesome Things, she staged a very vocal protest spanning almost all of Side A. On a side-note, my resilient son didn’t let the screaming infringe upon his Beatlemania, and he just kept literally dancing circles around his sister as she kicked and punched the floor.

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