“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.      ...

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...