Pass Me The Rock

Diana had some important hotness maintenance to do at the salon yesterday, so Elijah and I had some father and son time. It was too cold to take Grover outside and we didn’t have access to the car, so we spent most of the day in Eli’s room.

Boooooooring.

We actually resorted to reading stories. Bleh. Fearing I’d turn on the genetic code for nerdness he inherited from me, I called my brother Steve. He arrived several hours later with the object of my affection: The baby basketball hoop.

Alright alright, I’ll admit it. Elijah’s freakish height may have attributed to my desire to get him into basketball. So twenty years from now when he turns pro he can buy me a Humvee. Or whatever post oil dependence status symbol is in vogue in 2028. I’m pretty sure it will be a Humvee.

Thankfully, he loved it from the first moment I put the ball, or “rock” as the kids call it, into his meaty fists. He began dunking the ball immediately.

I began praising him in a manner that will most likely scar him years from now. But then I taught him a time-honored lesson. Your dad will be able to beat you in basketball as long as he is two feet taller than you.

Oh man I schooled him. Yes, he can dunk. But his defense sucks and he has no outside shot. I, on the other hand, am automatic from the three-point arc, or the shag rug as it is better known.

Eli got bored pretty quickly and moved on to throwing his other toys across the room. I shouted, “Who got next, jerks?” Grover posed a mighty opponent. Mostly because his defense consists of biting me in the collarbone. And his propensity for eating the basketball.

When I woke this morning I found Eli practicing his dunks. “Good luck, sucker,” I said as I chomped into a croissant and flipped through the Humvee catalogue.

Thanksgiving 2: Exploratorium Edition

This Thanksgiving went off without a hitch. Well, there was the small hitch of the meal sending my mother to our couch for the majority of the afternoon with stomach cramps. Who knew she wouldn’t like my famous Strychnine dressing?

Elijah was an angel. He sat through lots of hair tussling and unwanted hugs. And he napped through the actual meal. So as far as he knows, the Pilgrims and Indians shared cheese hot dogs at the first Thanksgiving.

But his angel like behavior won him a treat on Friday. A visit to the Skokie Community Center Exploratorium. Diana swears by the place. From her description, it sounded like a cross between Disney World and Disney Land. I imagined costumed performers and merry-go-rounds and experiments where you get to blow your eyebrows off. And for some reason I imaged belly dancers. I decided to take him myself so Diana could catch up on work. And I wanted to see the belly dancers.

We arrived and I paid a grand total of $4 for the two of us. The overly cheery woman behind the desk directed us to the Community Center’s basement where lots of hand made signs alerted us to the fact we were entering the Exploratorium.

The $4 entrance fee should have tipped me off. The Exploratorium was essentially the basement of your richest friend. There was a broken train set, several plastic riding things, a leaky tub filled with moldy plastic things and a stage with a costume closet that looked like it had been hit by a mortar attack.

But based on Elijah’s enthusiastic wriggling out of my arms and his shouts of, “Doon doon,” I decided to give it the old college try.

The thing is, The Exploratorium’s awesomeness comes from the fact that it is essentially the basement of your richest friend. Can’t afford to buy a train set? Go visit Mr. And Mrs. Exporatorium. House not big enough to crash a plastic airplane in? The Exploratoriums are happy to have you over. Building code won’t allow you to build a waterfall in your basement? You have a standing invitation at the Exploratoriums. Afraid wearing a dress will turn your boy into a ballet dancer? Mr. and Mrs. Exploratorium won’t tell. So I donned a plastic fireman hat and followed Eli as he howled with delight.

The coolest slash scariest slash coolest part of the Exploratorium was the massive climbing structure. It was basically a McDonald’s Playland without the thick coating of McRib sauce. There were huge tubes running across the ceiling and children were scrambling over it like spider monkeys. Occasionally a child would scream, “Mom! Help!” And the poor kid’s mother, unwilling or unable to climb the structure, would eventually have to leave the child to live among the tube people.

Of course Eli wanted to climb it. But it was just a bit beyond his ability. To access the Tubes, you have to climb a series of big padded levels around 3 feet high. Eli would take a running start and hurl himself into the padded step, scramble like a crab and then fall back to the ground. Meanwhile, hundreds of children would scramble up the steps over, around and through him.

It reminded me of the scene in “Full Metal Jacket” when Private Pile got stuck on the basic training wall while the other recruits lapped him again and again.

Eventually, with me pushing him from diaper level, Eli ascended to the first level. He rolled over onto his back and gasped, “Bye bye.” I scooped him up and took him home for a well-deserved nap.

I am truly thankful for that little guy.

Embargo

The photo embargo is over!

A Through G

Saturday morning I did my early morning routine with Elijah, which is lay in bed with a pillow over my head until the cries of “Mommmmyyyyyyyy” are too much and I get him out of his crib.

I blearily plopped him on his changing table and once I got his soggy diaper off, Eli looked up at me and said, “A-B-C-D-E-F-G.” In order. 27% of the alphabet without a mistake. I did a cartoon double take and said, “Whazza? Say that again.”

He looked at me and said, “C-C-G-B-Z-Z-B.”

“Much better,” I said. “No learning.”

Later that morning Diana’s folks came over and we were all upstairs in Eli’s room messing with these huge foam blocks with letters on them. Diana was holding letters up and asking Eli which were which.

I’m not kidding here people when I say he got 75% right. G, C, U, A. He couldn't quite get Z. But who uses Z besides Zebras. Stupid fakes horses...

Why? Why does he continue learning? If he continues learning that means he’s continuing to grow. Which means one day he will get to the stage where he is smart enough to leave and go to college. Maybe in another state. I’m not sure I can handle that.

Is it true what smoking cigarettes stunts your growth?

Dear Department of Child and Family Services,

This cigarette comment is meant to be taken as a joke. Please do not take my son away from me. Also, I am not actively trying to prevent my son from learning. It's just easier to joke about it than reveal my true feelings. I love this silly little letter learner.

Emotionally unavailably yours,

REH

A Cow Says

When I arrived home last night, the first thing I noticed was our front windows were thrown wide open. Mind you, it was 27 degrees outside. So I rolled my eyes and prepared for whatever shenanigans our Romanian sitter Marianna had going on.

As I entered the house, Elijah came running at me full speed and hilariously amped up. But he didn’t look injured so I went over to close the window. Marianna entered from the kitchen waving a towel.

“Oh, Elijah make a terrible poopie! Terrible poopie.”

Not smelling anything, I began to search around for Romanian liquor. After an unsuccessful search, I asked Marianna how Elijah was today.

“Oh, he now knows what a cow says…”

What? Eli finally learned that awesome baby trick, “What does the (fill in the blank) say?” I picked him up and asked, “Eli, what does a cow say?”

I expected him to give me the Romanian word for “moo.” Like,“Meeshlosh” or something. But sure as the day you were born the little guy said, “Mooooooooo!”

I almost threw up from cuteness. I asked him, “What does a doggy say?”

“Huff Huff.” Close enough.

Then I asked him what a kitty says. His response was, “Eeehhhh. Eehhhh.” Two out of three ain’t bad. And besides, he’s never seen a cat in his life.

It goes against the non-aggression treaty we have with Grover.

Detective Elijah

Elijah has entered a new and hilarious stage. It is the “I need to know where everyone is at all times” stage. It basically involves shrugging your shoulders and inquiring where people who aren’t in the room are. If I’m not in the room, he shrugs his shoulders and says, “Ah Dada?” Or if Grover is outside peeing he’ll shrug his shoulders and say, “Ah Gro? Ah Gro?”

If Diana is out of the room, instead of saying, “Ah Mommy?” Eli will shout, “Mom!” at the top of his lungs. But he does it in a teenager obnoxious way. Maaaaaawwwwm! Maaaaaawwwwm! He will continue shouting, “Maaaaaawwwwm!”until Diana answers, “Yes Baby?” from the other room. Then they start a cheerleader call and response:

“Maaaaaawwwwm!”
“Yes, Baby?”
“Maaaaaawwwwm!”
“Yes, Baby?”
“Maaaaaawwwwm!”
“Yes, Baby?”
“Maaaaaawwwwm!”

This goes on until Diana enters the room or I throw myself out the window, whichever comes first.

The other morning I was in the shower and Elijah, who was watching Elmo with Diana asked, “Ah Dada?” She said, “He’s in the bathroom.” Eli then toddled over to the bathroom and began pounding on the closed door like a SWAT team captain.

It’s a bit disconcerting. But I prefer it to his last stage. The “I don’t give a rat’s patootie where you’re at unless I’m hungry” stage.

I don’t have a new photo. Diana is in her busy time for Wine Goddessing. And given the current collapse of society, we need all the extra money we can get. To buy shotgun shells and canned goods. And Star Wars toys.

So here is a picture of my beard.

How To Dance Like Elijah

First, play your favorite song. Elijah recommends the ABC song played through toy toolbox speakers. It would also help if you could use batteries that are 3/4 dead, so the ABC song sounds as if it were sung by a Quaalude abuser.

Next, bob your head like a chicken. You may be asking yourself, “Should I be bobbing my head like a chicken to the beat of the song?” Lord no. Your head bobs should have nothing to do with the actual song. The more random the better. You may also want to assume the vacant stare of a stuffed animal.

Then, jab your fingers into the air randomly. Or, if the mood strikes, hold your arms straight out like a B52 bomber. You can also twist your body to make your arms swing wildly in all directions. Again, you need not do this to the time of the music.

The most challenging part of the Elijah Dance is the legs. There are two distinct moves. 1) The squat. 2) The straight-legged walk. Use these in combination to mimic a drunken Olympic weight lifter.

Lastly, and this is the most important, if your father tries to join in on the dancing by painfully yanking Grover into a standing position and jumping up and down, run away angrily.

Man, that kid cracks me up.