A Daddy Weekend

Robert asked me what I wanted to do for Labor Day weekend (3 days) and I told him I wanted 3 days at home to get things done that I couldn't do with interruptions every 5 minutes. So, he agreed to be the baby guy over the weekend. It was all good. You got used to your dad and got to spend some real long quality time with him, and I got a break from being the one always on call. I didn't get that much done, but I rested and played a lot. Dad made you a sandbox in the driveway out of a plastic half-wine-barrel and you played in there with your garden tools while he worked on projects in the garage. It was the perfect system (you even fell asleep for your nap in there once) except that the sides of the barrel are too high for you to get into on your own, so Dad had to put you in and take you out (many, many, many times).

On Monday night we compared notes on taking care of kids full time. We both agreed that it's exhausting in an odd way. It's not really physically exhausting or mentally exhausting, but kind of emotionally exhausting. And it's more so with both you and Isbre. You both want, or need, all the time. And there's only one source.

You are saying new words every day. Every day there will be an hour or two where you will copy everything we say, trying out all the words yourself. So far only a few words like hi and bye would be understandable to anyone but your parents, but it's coming. It's pretty funny to think that at 15 months you weren't saying anything and I was starting to worry. The pediatrician said if you weren't speaking at 18 months, we'd take you to a specialist for testing. And at 17 months, you decided it was time to talk.