Ethan is starting to talk more and more.  Every day seems to bring a new word or phrase and sometimes it takes us a while to figure out exactly what he is saying.  Last night, as the day wound down, Ethan was begging and pleading with us to do something.  He kept saying the same word over and over again, but neither Bianca nor I understood what he was saying.  Then Isaac told us--he was asking to downstairs.  This means he wants to go to the basement.  Unfortunately it was bed time and we had to say no.  Ethan got so upset that Bianca had to give him a bath (I usually do both baths).  

In and amongst his tiny tears was his favorite new phrase of protest--No DADDY!  This mostly comes from him not wanting me to do something when he thinks his mommy could do it instead.  So if we are trying to get in the car and I pick him up to stuff him in the car seat we hear "No DADDY!"  And if I taking to change his diaper we get a "No DADDY!"  But recently, in the last two or three days, the phrase has moved from a rebuke of me, to a general command.  Yesterday on the ride in Ethan began to fuss as he had had enough of the car ride.  Bianca heard "All Done" and that was followed up closely by "No Daddy" even though I was a full state away.  

And so it has become not a rebuke of me, as much as a general phrase of protest--NO DADDY!  I am going to develop a complex.  

A little blog co-posting.

Recently my parents and my grandmother came to visit.  It was a wonderful weekend with four generations in a house.  I was so grateful for the opportunity to see my grandmother and my two boys playing together.  I was also very proud of how tough my grandmother is--after losing her husband of more than 60 years, she flies on a plane out to see us, having been on a plane less than five times before in her life.  The idea that my then-18 month old would be interacting with a woman that had a profound impact on my life was just heartening.

We had to some serious sleep arrangement Tetris, but when we were finished my grandmother got my oldest son's room.  My oldest son has an affinity for flashlights.  Its not a full blown addiction, but he can still play with Nerf guns without getting hairy looks, so flashlights, comparatively speaking, are pretty boring.  But he likes mine and two years ago I got him one for Christmas.  I got him the Fenix E05 2014 Edition from Fenix.  It is a great light, for those of you unfamiliar.  Its small size and great performance make it one of my very favorite lights for under $20.  He took the E05 with him to his new temporary sleeping spot.

On the first morning they were there, my son noticed that my grandmother was using an old Energizer 2D cell light that was left in his room by someone years ago.  I saw him look at the light on his nightstand and he looked concerned.  The day flew by and when it was time to go to bed, I saw him rummage around in his things near the temporary bed and he grabbed something and then ran into his room where my grandmother was before I could see what he had.

In his tiny hand was the E05.  I heard him tell my grandmother this:

"GG, you need this.  It is a much better light than that one.  If you need to get up in the middle of the night or there is an emergency, this will be much better."

With that he dropped the little E05 in her hand and walked out.

I then did the same for him.  I gave him my nightstand light, the ridiculous SPY007, a light he knows and loves (and knows how pricey it is--"let's not throw the light on the pavement please...").  He was touched.  And my grandmother was touched, and now, as I write this I am kinda glad I have a good kid, even if he is silly about flashlights (like his old man).

Not sure why I shared this, other than to point out how silly our love of flashlights really is.  Oh well... 

Check the other version of this post to see if there are any comments.

http://www.everydaycommentary.com/2016/11/the-son-of-flashoholic.html

Beethan is in that phase where he is addicted to choo choos.  When he hears one rumbling down the track, he just can't help himself.  His eyes bug out and runs over to the window (if we are inside) or the fence (if we are outside).  This is usually accompanied by us running over to lift him up.  If a whistle blows, God help you--you need to be on the run, a full out sprint or he looks at you like you crapped in his cereal. 

All of this is made more complicated depending on what you are doing.  If you are, for example, giving Ethan a bath things get wet and messy.  Dinner time, when Ethan is locked in to his high chair is not a good time either.  But the absolute worst time is when Ethan is going to bed.  Most of the days of the week, trains stop around 8.  Ethan will ask about them and Bianca will tell him that the choo choos are sleeping. 

That works 90% of the time.  But every once in a while we get a loud blare right as Ethan is going down and he goes bananas.  The first time it happened Ethan glowered at his Mommy.  It was clear that this was the first time that Ethan questioned Mommy's infallibility.  Mommy was wrong.  But the second time it happened Ethan had caught on--she was feeding him a line. 

Sleep choo choos, please.