The world according to a 2-year-old is a pretty amazing place. I firmly believe that we are born with knowledge that somewhere along the line we forget. It serves us well for a few years, and then drifts away. Or maybe it is beaten out of us by cruel adult conformity. Either way, toddlers possess some amazing knowledge. It is FUN to see this knowledge acted on, but only if you’re the one cleaning the kitchen instead of issuing the bath. Here is a list of secrets only toddlers know, for the benefit of parents everywhere: Pizza sauce makes for good styling gel—To an adult this may sound disgusting. But how else do you explain how so much red food ends up in your toddler’s hair? It takes a concerted effort to put it there. Similarly, forks and combs can be used interchangeably— Pizza in the hair tastes better than pizza in the mouth. OK, so I’ve never seen my son eat off a comb, but there is a first time for everything. Bathwater tastes better than bottled—Why else would toddlers be so adamant about drinking the water splashed over their heads, or worse, the water used to clean their bottoms? There are no logical explanations for how this water can taste so good. Hair washing is more painful than a root canal—This may only be because my son has never had a root canal. But it’s the impression I receive from the correlating screams. Yes means no, and no means keep asking – Any time we ask our son a question that involves a decision on his part, he vocally changes his mind at least once. When you tell him no, he persists, only louder. As if me not hearing him was the issue in the first place. Sharing does not mean caring, it just means you have less stuff— “Sharing is caring” is a piece of adult propaganda designed to keep toddlers in line. No one knows this better than my son. Why else does he need to yell “Jamie’s! Jamie’s!” every time we go to put his toys away? Seriously, I’m not even trying to have fun with your toys (most of the time). I’m just putting them where they belong. It’s about knowing how to clean with toddlers present. Speaking of putting toys away… Toys are generally happier on the floor, all spread out—My guess is toddlers are immune to the pain of stepping on a Lego in the middle of the night. If they’re not immune to it, they’re more willing to consider it par for the course. OK, so I know I must have missed about a Gazillion toddler truths. Feel free to add some in the...

“No. No. No. No. No.” Any parent of a 2-year-old is probably familiar with that refrain at a high decibel. What’s puzzled Meg and I lately is we frequently hear it at dinner. Jamie loves to eat, but he loves to eat on his terms. He takes two bites of what Meg and I want to feed him, and then exclaims “Bull Shish” (Goldfish) or asks for applesauce, or a banana. It can be a challenge to get him to eat something new or different, because of his stubborn personality. Luckily for him his parents are stubborn too. No DNA test necessary. He’s ours. Lately when he exclaims “No. No. No. No. No,” he shakes his head with his hair whisping through the air behind him. It is most definitely a full-bodied answer. When Mr. Personality stumbles onto a food he likes he becomes bird-like with an open mouth, anticipating more. What he likes one night, might be the food he says “no” to the next. It is a completely unpredictable endeavor. — Luckily for us, Jamie also loves his baths. It does however mean that we can’t mention the bath too early in the meal, or he will lose focus on the food in front of him. Once it is time for him to hop in, he’s always excited to play with the fishies, duck, turtle and the cups that go along with bath time. He’ll likely let you know that he doesn’t want to be removed from the tub after we’re done however. “TOOOYYYS,” in a sad voice with a pouty lip is all he can muster. — We also read him a book before he goes to bed. Something tells me that Jamie is going to be an early reader, and it is not just his active interest. He insists on bringing a separate book onto your lap as you read. Make no mistake – this book is for him to hold while we read to him. Should we try to read the book he is holding—be prepared to hear “No. No. No. No. No.” all over again. We have a budding DIYer on our hands. — The passing theatrics make Jamie a sound sleeper, and for this we are lucky. I hear all the stories from parents about kids who failed to sleep through the night for the first year or longer, and I cringe. I can’t imagine the multiple wake ups and early mornings going on for that long. He may talk for a little bit, but usually he is out cold immediately—something I wholeheartedly appreciate. Speaking of out cold immediately–his parents may have the best intentions on Fridays and Saturday night. But best intentions...

Here we are at the end of winter, and the ONLY reminder it will be warm soon is that pitchers and catchers reported for Spring Training. So next time the snow falls or temperature plummets, picture some baseball players working out, hundreds of miles from Chicago. That should fill you with enough weather-induced jealousy to fuel you to opening day. Side Note: There really should be a word for the weather jealousy that Chicagoans and other cold weather dwellers feel for their southern brethren November through February, but I digress… Jamie’s getting a little bit older, and at some point in the course of this baseball season, he may start to slightly comprehend what is going on. I fully intend to set him up for a lifetime of disappointment by introducing him to the Chicago Cubs this year—a decision that down the road could make some therapist very happy. The Cubs bring historically bad to a whole new level for professional sports franchises. The old motto of “Wait ‘til next year” was put on hold while Theo rebuilt the franchise. That phrase provided a distant hope that “lifted” fans spirits through a tough century. Any team is capable of a bad decade. The Cubs strung 10 consecutive in a row, and counting. After spending the last few seasons in a commitment to suck, improvements are finally happening and it’s tough not to get excited about. More buzz surrounds this team, than I have ever seen. For Jamie, this means it is no longer his father’s Chicago Cubs. Theoretically. I’m a Cubs fan, but I’m also a realist. They look great on paper, where they still claim an undefeated 2015 record. They are not Hillary Clinton in a Democratic primary, however. Somebody’s going to crawl out of the woodwork for a challenge. They have a proven track record of throwing games and seasons away, and a deserved reputation, that they will keep until it is not deserved anymore. Even when they get within a few outs, they find a way to royally screw it up. (And you cannot blame that one on a fan.) The Cubs are actually a great way to teach a toddler about sports, and heck, even life. You have to have faith, but it is important not to take the things you cannot control too seriously. The Cubs seem like the perfect delivery system for the lesson that life isn’t...

“Outside?” “No.” “Maybe next month.” “Once it’s about 40 degrees warmer.” “Not until you’re 21.”  I need a standard answer to one of my 2-year-old son’s new favorite questions, and any of these will do. He hasn’t forgotten that we’re in here, and the fresh air is out there. He’s going to keep asking and asking. Thank God it’s the end of February and all of this nasty weather is about to come to an end–theoretically anyway. I’m trying to forget that I needed a snow shovel in April last year. I’m trying to be grateful we don’t live in New England and we aren’t buried in seven feet of snow with more on the way. I’m trying to find some silver lining but there is no rhyme or reason for tolerating Chicago winters. In the matter of four or five weeks all of this inside time should be one slightly painful but distant memory, and I for one am glad. I mean REALLY REALLY glad. Meanwhile Jamie is upstairs in the living room running from one wall to the other and colliding into it. Sure, he might be doing this no matter the weather situation (he is 2), but not being able to take him outside isn’t making this any easier. The fact that all these footsteps sound like the ceiling is caving in as I sit and write from my office in the basement may contribute to my cabin fever as well. Just to be clear for those living in warmer climates: I’m not refusing to go outside with my son because it’s winter. I’m refusing because earlier this week we had -30 degree wind chills. We are talking weather that is unsafe for human existence. We also went through a streak of days in January like this, and the boy catches cabin fever. I for one, can’t wait to take Jamie on a big old extended walk, without freezing our butts off. Hopefully sometime in July. Try telling a 2-year-old that outside it is unsafe for humans. He’ll look at you and say “Please? Please?” Every time we put his coat on, Jamie gets really excited. On much more temperate days he’s been out, and even built a snowman. I’m pretty sure he just loves the outdoors, which on a whole is awesome—just not at the moment. Meanwhile it’s footsteps and collisions....

The definition of romance changes remarkably with parenthood. At no time is this more evident than in mid-February, when the card companies insist we express our love in traditionally romantic ways. This type of romance is important and necessary for any functioning relationship, but can easily take a back seat when there are little people running about. Meg and I spent the Valentine’s Day weekend trading a cold that Jamie brought home from daycare, so we didn’t get a chance to really celebrate. It won’t be our last low-key Valentine’s Day, I am sure. Current circumstances and a recent listen to the Flight of the Conchords’ gem Business Time got me thinking about all the totally unromantic things parents say to each other, that sound like a way to your heart in the right circumstance. On a side note, if you’ve never heard Business Time, you should give it a listen. They nail the idea of turning the functional into the romantic in a really funny way—something any parent can identify with. People without kids don’t think twice about functional phrases such as “the kitchen is clean” or “I brought take out.” That kind of phrase might elicit a “Thank you.” For a parent, there is some unmistakable romance to it. It’s not chocolate or flowers, but with the right timing, “I’ll drop our kid off in the morning” might rank up there with “I love you.” If the card companies found a way to better incorporate this kind of functional message, sales would spike. How do I know this? The humorous cards are typically met with an eye roll. Functional invokes an amazing amount of gratitude amongst parents. I’ll bet cards using the coupon theme do amazingly well with parents. You’ve probably seen the card: “This coupon is good for one free _______________ (fill in the blank.)” People who have a dinner to cook, kitchen to clean, screaming toddler to feed, bath to give, lunches to make, garbage to take out, and toys to pick up on a daily basis must be the target market for this one. I could have used it recently, but I was a little late on my card shopping (a shocking development). On Valentine’s Day morning I found myself among the hoard of men sifting through the card aisle searching for a card for my wife. I would love to tell you that my last minute shopping was due to circumstances surrounding the sickness of my child, but I’ve been in this particular situation more years than I care to remember. I can’t blame this one on Jamie. All the truly funny cards were already long gone, if they were ever there to...

“Don’t drink the bathwater.” “Get your fork out of your hair.” “Don’t lick the bottom of your shoe.” This is just a recent, small smattering of the “things I never thought I’d have to say” variety. Then you become a parent and words that were never meant to be joined into a sentence come pouring out of your mouth. You realize “toddler logic” is a whopper of an oxymoron. I’ve documented all the screams and cries that come with infanthood, and how I never thought they would be immediately followed with a bout of logic. It bears repeating because I’ve never been more right. Any force continuously moving at 200 mph with no rhyme or reason needs to be respected, and that is everything that is both beautiful and frightening about parenthood wrapped into one chaotic nutshell. This nonstop speed goes for both his legs and his mouth. He’ll bounce off the walls, while the whole time not stop talking. Some of it leaves you scratching your head, and some of it starts to make sense. Jamie is now in the human tape recorder stage, a scary thing in its own right, because “stop swearing” is something that’s been on his parents’ checklist for just over 23 months now. We’ve just never 100 percent gotten around to it. Luckily he hasn’t picked up a swear word yet, but I am sure it’s coming. What he has picked up is some of the things we were unaware we were doing in the first place. For instance, out of nowhere he will yell at the cat “Marlowe no!” as he chases her around. (It is a phrase his mother and I both deny saying, but he picked it up from somewhere.) He’ll chase her around saying this, and when he can’t find her ask “Where’s Marlowe?” All I can do is shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know kid, she’s freaking smart.” As if the constant moving at 200 mph and tormenting the cat weren’t enough, at the same time he is a ball of emotion. If he asks for Frozen and you say no, be ready to see a lip so large he could trip over it. Be ready for “Please? Please? Please?” Because Elsa is all he will be able to think about. While there may not be much in the way of logic, there is an agenda, and the Ice Queen of Arendelle is at the top of the list. In the absence of logic, I am not sure where we are headed. The only thing I know is we are headed there fast.      ...