Bananas. Rice. Applesauce. No, I’m not listing off the brats diet for when you are sick. I am listing off some of Jamie’s favorite foods—until they are not. He’s quit bananas before, but he came back. He loves rice, except for those occasional times when he doesn’t. Applesauce still ranks incredibly high but I’m waiting for the first refusal. His diet also gets more complex, and the meals more daring. He’s got an affinity for spaghetti and pizza, which makes for some interesting meals. The dinner menu is often planned around the bath schedule. It just makes everything easier that way. When Jamie gets tired he rubs his eyes. But sometimes he doesn’t check what is on his hands before raising them to his face—a high risk behavior. When he was younger he fell asleep over his exersaucer a few times, though he is yet to do that in his high chair. I am waiting for the spaghetti face plant. I just hope it happens on a bath night. It’s also interesting when he doesn’t like something. For some reason, he has been slow to take with chicken and green peppers, something we use a lot of in our cooking. He’ll pull remnants of “hidden” food off his fork with his fingers, often tossing it overboard—a behavior we are trying to curb. Despite all that, our son has a healthy appetite. When I watch my son eat I know that we will never need a DNA test—he’s Brennan through and through. The way he wears his spaghetti. The way he devours his bread. The way he gets distracted and sometimes sticks his fork in his hair. He’s mine. Toddler meals really do hold entertainment value. He still uses some interesting techniques to tell you how much he loves the food. He hums loudly while he eats. In a not entirely unrelated development, his grandparents also taught him the word “please” very early (thank you!). Jamie used to only have one way to tell you he was hungry, but that is quickly expanding as well. He used to cry a cry so loud that everyone in the neighborhood could feed him. Evolution wanted him prepared for the idea that mom and dad might be busy. But now he can walk to his high chair and say “This? This?” Or maybe he’ll try hanging on the fridge door again. Now he’ll ask for whatever is on his mind, usually bull shish (Goldfish), crackers, or cookies. Meg’s story is still one of my favorites. She went to drop him off at daycare one morning, and he was having a difficult time with her leaving. Our daycare provider asked him if he wanted...

It is like clockwork. Meg or I take all the toys and books in the front room and put them on the shelves where they belong. And then a whirlwind stirs up in the form of a 22-month-old behind me. He throws the toys and books on the floor, as quickly as they were put away. Sometimes it takes two or three cycles and a whole lot of determination for Jamie’s belongings to stay put away. I’ve written about cleaning with toddler present before. But now, we have a new development. A gorgeous, happy, new development. Allow me to explain. Because of our work schedules, Jamie spends a few days a week at day care. So there are multiple people in the mix teaching him, and because he is our first, this can occasionally be a really good thing. Sometimes he will receive guidance that Meg and I didn’t think to teach him, which is exactly what happened when my wife picked our son up from daycare very excited the other day. “Guess what? Jamie knows how to put stuff back,” she told me the second she got home. All of the sudden, the world or at least the part of it that our house is in, changed. “Jamie can you put your toy away?” I asked. With a little guidance, he did. I expected more resistance from him. I expected him to find somewhere ultra creative and worse than the middle of the family room to put all of his toys. But instead, he actually put it away. He remembered where it went, and he put it there. I think I’m going to celebrate by telling the kid to clean his room. Or buying him a child-sized snow shovel. Or maybe have him switch a load of laundry. Never mind he can barely walk down stairs using the railing. With the help of a step stool he could even wash the dishes. I digress… He really is starting to put more together. We recently started asking him to take his shoes off when he gets home, and for the most part he does it. This is something he has perfected over the last two years while riding in the car seat. Whenever we arrive at said destination all shoes and gloves are strewn in all corners of the back seat. He is just learning to take them off upon request. Maybe I’m jumping the gun on a few things listed here, but he can start to use his powers for the greater...

  And Some More Thoughts On His Love For Music, And Mine We walked onto the patio area at a recent family wedding reception. The band played “Friend of the Devil,” one of my favorite Grateful Dead songs. But what happened next changed things. My son and a few of his cousins began dancing, and I mean dancing hard. It became apparent that the adults of the group were not the intended audience. The set list shifted. The band followed “Friend of the Devil” with “The Wheels on the Bus.” My son is no music elitist. The band played to the kids, and he loved it. It’s not your normal cover band one-two punch, but it paid off. A 2-year-old, a 3-year-old and a 4-year old were all shaking their bodies, moving with everything they have to the banjo on this Charleston, South Carolina patio, while the adults stood back laughing. My son’s love for music is a beautiful thing. When the music moves him, he dances with his whole body, bobbing his head and shaking his butt. It looks both ridiculous and liberating at the same time. If you happen to witness it, you cannot help but laugh. Jamie is a huge Talking Heads fan. Sometimes he will say “Hi, hi go!” out of nowhere, which is actually a reference to the song “Swamp” on the album Stop Making Sense. He’ll begin bobbing up and down immediately, as an instinctive reaction while the first few notes of this song play. He is only 22 months old, but his love for music dates back. He began kicking on a regular basis as he heard the same Straight No Chaser song, while my wife was still pregnant. Watching the way Jamie enjoys music is a reminder of the power of the art form. It can maintain a high level of personal meaning through childhood and early adulthood. There comes a time when we become busy with the stresses of school, work and family. It is important to hang onto it through all the various stresses life brings our way. Music can be reduced to the pop songs playing as background noise as we run errands, or the smooth jazz that plays as we sit in waiting rooms. It can become the detail that is glossed over while fretting about something else. To call it “the soundtrack of our life” at this point would overinflate its importance. I know I spent a lot of time obsessing over the guitar notes of Jimmy Page and the immaculate vocals of Robert Plant in junior high and high school. A friend brought me into a whole new world when he bought me Led Zeppelin...

I’ve written about the misery of being a Chicago sports fan before, but Super Sunday seems like the perfect time to revisit the topic–just in time for America’s number one secular holiday. I want my son to grow up a football fan. I don’t necessarily want him to play, but it is an absolutely thrilling sport to watch, and one that you can garner a lot of enjoyment from. That being said, how in the #^$%#^%$ do you interest a young toddler in a game your home team likely won’t be a part of for a long, long time? How do you even attempt this as a responsible parent? Won’t you be inflicting years of heartbreak and disappointment? Wouldn’t Chicago baseball be a…um…nevermind. This is all aside from the fact I can’t interest Jamie in anything that doesn’t involve the ice queen of Arendelle. Maybe I tell him that Elsa’s underneath all that padding playing QB. The ball is really made of ice, and the defense is trying to stop its spread, and prevent an eternal winter. The Bears aren’t doing their fans any favors. Instead, they brought bad to a whole new level in 2014. Here’s to hoping that Ryan Pace and John Fox can turn that train around, but it probably won’t be for a long, long time. It is also difficult as a fan to take interest in a game involving a team that will be making their sixth appearance in the Big Game over the last 14 seasons, versus a team with the coach who left his previous job as his team landed in a heaping mess. I’ll have the game on because well, I can’t not watch. For one thing, the commercials are always entertaining. Apparently, this year as a dad, apparently I have more incentive to watch the ads than in the past. Despite not liking the teams, it should be a pretty good game. Maybe by kickoff we will stop having to hear about whether or not the balls are properly inflated. Maybe we will stop having to listen to press conferences ripe with double entendre. Hopefully there is enough material for the announcers to talk about otherwise. If all else fails, I might just root for another power outage. Watching the power go out in a major stadium might just be enough to keep Jamie interested....

I recently made it through a reading of One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish without having my tongue tied by the infamous Dr. Seuss. Anyone who has spent some time with that book knows that this feat is either a parenthood right of passage or a minor miracle—I’m not sure which. We have been reading him this one before bed for a few weeks now, and the work is growing on both of us. It is a glorious 50-plus page book of tongue twisters designed to trip parents up and make them forget that they even knew how to read to their children. The first time I read it probably took twice as long because of tongue twisters such as: “I wish for fish with my ish wish dish.” Or “What good to a Nook is a hook cook book?” Or “You never met a pet as wet as they let this wet pet get.” I love the wild imagery throughout the book followed up with the repeated line, “These things are fun, and fun is good.” It’s been a few decades since I myself was familiar with the rhymes of Dr. Seuss. I am quickly regaining my familiarity. Jamie’s loving it, and getting really into what’s on every page. It really is interesting watching him hear these stories and watching him piece things together. Before we started reading One Fish, Two Fish, Jamie’s book obsession was Good Night Moon. I wanted to write a critique of some of the oddities found in the room, but there isn’t much left to say after this post from the Ugly Volvo. For months we read GNM to Jamie and he would finish sentences and say good night to objects in the room that the author never even directly pointed out. He also developed an unhealthy obsession with the mouse on the floor, which was a bit strange. As we picked him up to put him in his crib, he would say good night to every stuffed animal, inanimate object and even the frog-shaped humidifier. He’d refer to the book as “Night night moon.” But soon he became bored with it, and we moved on to the “Fishies” book as he likes to put it. Every night as we are changing him for bed he yells for “Fishies,” and is starting to point out some of the characters in the book. We’re moving through a lot of reading at the Brennan house. Maybe next week it will be some Silverstein. From there we can move on to Tolstoy or Nietzsche. These things are fun, and fun is good.      ...

My 22-month-old son has a girlfriend, and she is animated. No, not her personality. Her. He’s just starting to piece things together, and already he is obsessed with Elsa, from Frozen. As a father, I am trying to come to terms with this infatuation. Months ago, when his development wasn’t near as far as what it is now, my wife was changing a diaper and trying to pry a toy out of his hands at the same time. “Let it go, Jamie,” she told him. His response? “Let it go. Let it go. Elsa?” It has only progressed since then. The 501st time through the movie has only reinforced his obsession with the Ice Queen from Arendelle. Jamie will literally walk around the front room singing with Elsa to “Let It Go,” in grand fashion. I cannot deny that I owe the ability to change laundry, finish an email or clean the kitchen on various days to this Disney masterpiece. But at the same time, I am wondering what is with the outright obsession? And why Elsa and not Anna? My wife found herself in this very conversation the other day with friends, she said. After thinking about the question over the two princesses, I have no good answer. Anna’s the one that makes the sacrifice. A larger portion of the plot revolves around her. Yet this toddler is completely obsessed with her blonde counterpart. I am not sure what this suggests about the future. There are nights when we don’t want Jamie watching a 2-hour movie. There are nights where we would rather him play with toys, read a book, or interact with parents. Sometimes this goes over well, as intended. And sometimes there is a fundamental lack of understanding that only a toddler is capable of. There are nights where he will hold the TV remote, and hand it to us, asking “Elsa? Elsa?” And when he hears no, he falls apart and cries. I am only left to wonder how long this obsession will last?  It is cute and it is funny until the answer is no. I know kids go through phases with various fictional characters. Jamie’s first recognition was Elmo. He still likes Elmo, but it’s cooled. He also likes Buzz Lightyear, Mike Wizowski, Ralph (from Wreck it Ralph) and a handful of other fictional characters. But make no mistake. None hold a candle to Elsa. Is it the magical powers? Is it the catchiness of “Let It Go?” Just trying to bring some rationalization and understanding to an area where there is none. Frozen has engrained itself into the fabric of parenthood so deeply that it is impossible to escape. If you want...