The Jasper Chronicles

The Journal of a Cynical Dad

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

This Seems About Right

I just saw a drunk Viking.

It's 7:30 in the morning.

Happy Halloween everyone!

Sunday, October 21, 2007

What Gives?

The Boy doesn't sleep. P and I are exhausted, and we're not sure what to do about it.

Around the 16-month mark, his bedtime started getting later. 8:30, then 9:00, then 9:30 and by 22-months he didn't go to sleep until 10:00 - 10:30 PM. It was killing us. We couldn't start anything around the house until after he went down, which meant we didn't get to bed until past midnight. Add in the fact he would wake up at 6:00 each morning - P and I were living on borrowed time.

So, on the advice of a childcare expert, we started cutting back on his naps. Three hours down to two, then one and a half, and it worked! His bedtime started rolling back to 8:00 - 8:30, and he didn't seem any worse for wear. P and I were ecstatic, we could get things done around the house and even relax for a bit before bed. Life was good again.

Which brings us to today. Scheduled naps are a thing of the past. Now he naps whenever he falls asleep, usually for 20 - 60 minutes at the most, and bedtime falls somewhere between 8:30 - 9:00. So what the hell am I complaining about?

He wakes up at 5:00 AM every morning!

Aren't two-year olds supposed to sleep at least ten hours a day? We're lucky if we can squeeze eight hours out of The Boy. And when he's awake it's full on go. Jumping, running, kicking, chasing, mostly with a huge smile on his face. Yeah even though he's not sleeping like a two-year old, he doesn't seem too cranky about it.

P and I on the other hand, let's just say we've been happier.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Mama's Got A Squeezebox

There's a Far Side cartoon where new 'residents' of heaven are greet at the gates with "Welcome to heaven, here's your harp." On the second panel new 'residents' of hell are greeted with, "Welcome to hell, here's your accordion."

P plays the accordion, and she was teaching The Boy. Not a foreshadow of their after-lives I hope.

Stick with the drums kid. It's the only way to avoid an eternal damnation of Beer Barreled Polka.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Can't Escape It

The Boy has a cold, and I'm trying to buck the "Kid Sick - Parents Sick" trend. I figure I can pull this off if I just avoid his face as much as possible; the goodnight kiss is going to be planted squarely on the top of his head until he recovers. Yesterday my strategy went out the window.

We're on the bed playing The Boy's favourite game, "Hop-On-Pop" with a special emphasis on "Knee-to-Throat" and "Elbow-In-Eye".

Me: (After a bruising head-butt) Okay, okay, let's take a break. Dad's a little sore
The Boy: Woof, Woof, I a doggy. Woof.

Then he proceeds to lick my face.

Crap! My plan! Must act fast!

Me: Good doggy. Hey, how about a snake? What does a snake do?
TB: Ssssss.... Ssssss... I a snake.

Then he proceeds to lick my face.


Me: Uh... I don't think snakes lick people.
TB: Sssss... Look out, snake coming...

[Lick Lick]

Me: Airplane! What does a airplane do?
TB: Roooommm... Roooommm... Roooommm... I airpane

First time I've ever flown where licking is part of the check-in procedure. Better than a cavity search I suppose, but at least I'd avoid getting sick that way.