Next Phase Begins - Full Throtle

OK, we have made it (for the most part) past the "Oh Shit" phase by replacing the bad word (which I am most certain she learned from her mom), with other words. I know it doesn't have the same satisfaction as the bad word, but it is a frustration she will just have to learn to deal with until she is old enough to make those choices for herself. Let me back up a little bit here...


Sophia is a very bright girl who loves to mimic mom and dad in a number of respects. She especially is proud of her exagerated motions to "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and loves to feed herself most of what mom and dad are eating for dinner. She likes trying to use a spork (the spoon with rounded fork tongs) to feed herself as well. She hasn't quite mastered the use of the spork yet, but she gets an "A" for trying very hard. I know, I know, another level of frustration she is dealing with. Anyhow, this next phase began without Margaret nor I really seeing it coming. Sophia will go along merrily eating with her fingers and humming her cute little version of "Twinkle, twinkle, little star" (have you ever noticed that that tune is the same as the "ABC song" and several other toddler tunes), right up to the point where she is full enough to stop eating. At this point she will hurriedly grab any remaining food on her high chair tray and with the speed of an umpire calling a runner safe at home, swing her little arms and letting the food fly. This is followed immediately by an "uh-oh, all done". Fortunately for Margaret and I we have two four legged vacuums that clear most of the spilled food up, nearly before it hits the wall or floor.


I think Blue and Apollo can sense when she is about done eating and position themselves strategically on either side of Sophia in order to get to the food before her mother or I can say a word, and have it lapped up in a jiffy. This behavior, while not unique to our sweet little daughter, is something to see with your own eyes. I swear the entire exchange between grabbing the food, flinging it to the walls and floor, and dogs snarfing it down happens in nano-seconds. We are awestruck with the efficiency of Sophia and the dogs. This is fine and well at home (for the time being), but it is a little less acceptable when she is out to eat at a restruaunt, and pelts neighboring tables with her efficient (and accurate) throwing abilities. She has the cutest little smile at the end of the exchange that it makes it hard to discipline her with out cracking a smile yourself, no matter how mortified you are that she just landed a chip with salsa on the back of former Mayor of Salt Lake City, Ted Wilson's $1,000 suit. OK, she didn't really hit his suit, but can come very close when given the opportunity. And in public places we don't have the dogs to help devour the evidence.


So the word "uh-oh" has replaced "oh shit", at least for the time being, because that is the first thing out of mom and dads mouth when she launches the remaining food from her launch pad. And I know servers all along the Wasatch Front are hoping we never darken the thresholds of the establishments they are working in, at least until the spork is mastered and the thrashing of arms has been contained. Most servers, I have to give props to for being generally good natured about it as Margaret and I are helping them (or them helping us) to clean up the mess. We have been very fortunate in not having to explain too much the to servers, and they seem to take it pretty well in-stride. I am sure Sophia isn't the first toddler to relocate food in an eating establishment and will not be the last.


But now it has gotten to the point where anytime she is doing something she KNOWS she should not be doing, it is proceeded with an "uh-oh" rather than followed by one. The biggest uh-oh came for mommy and daddy a week ago when Grandma LaNan was up to our home to see the cute little munchkin, and we had not put the champagne flutes out of her reach. We turned our backs for no more than 3 seconds and she raced from the living room, across to the dining room, picked up one of the flutes (now located beyond her reach), shouted "Uh-oh!" and threw the flute on to the wood floor. Margaret, her mother and I raced into the dining room, I immediately picked up Sophia, and Margaret and her mother went into overdrive and had the shattered flute picked up and put in the garbage nearly as fast as the dogs clean up after Sophia is through eating. I tell ya, we have to be very careful about EVERYTHING now. I thought we had baby proofed everything, but it seems like each week she finds a new thing to get into. Love her to bits, but she can sure be a stinker sometimes. Well, it is now 2:00 am, and I will sign off the blog for now. Seems like this is the only time of day I can blog anymore. BTW, the thing on her head is a ladies golfing visor turned upside down and perched like a Pope hat. She does this herself all the time.

BTW: Here is a link to a Daddy Daycare Support / Play group if anyof you are interested in joining.

http://www.raisingthem.com/groups/view/100622/Stay_At_Home_Dads/

What not to wear...

My wife enjoys a show on one of the chick channels called "What NOT To Wear", hosted by a guy named Clint and a gal named Stacy. My wife has said, (on more than one occasion), that they need to come up with a new version of the show just for me called "What NOT To Dress Your Baby Daughter In".

Now first off, I'm a guy. Jeans with out stains and a t-shirt that doesn't smell or have spills on it is completely acceptable attire. And if I am not taking Sophie out in public, I believe the same rules apply. Well, not so. Everyday her outfit has to have colors and they have to match. No mixing of stripes and plaids, and the shirt has to haved the exact color of the the pants at least one time, if not predominantly.

I will admit it - I am not fashionista (my wife's word not mine), and it is difficult to apply a different set of rules to Sophia than to me. I could probably dress myself a little better, but if no one is going to see me other than the back door neighbors when I stick my head out the door to yell at the dogs for howling at either sirens or F-15's as they cruise overhead, what's the big deal.

I do even worse in dressing Sophia than normal when I try to apply my wife's rules. The most recent time I dressed her in what I thought was a short sleeved shirt with green and white checkers as trim and some green and white checkered bloomers. Well, the greens, to my wifes opinion, did not match because the checkers on the shirt were faded green and the bloomers were bright green. They were the same color when I washed them (and no, I did not use bleach). So we now have a 15 minute session each evening before putting Sophia to bed, where I first pick out what I am planning on dressing her in the next day, and receive a lecture on why that is not the "best choice". Then, my wife picks out an appropriate outfit for the following day. I think I am getting better at selecting clothing for my daughter, but my wife thinks that I have been hard-wired and that the process is mostly hopeless for me.

The only times I do well is when I remember clothes that came together, like a shirt and pants that were on the same hanger in the store, when we purchased them, or match up the Garanimals on the clothing tags. Thank goodness for Garanimals. When I was a kid growing up, I thought that was a cool idea that Sears had, and they have now migrated to the store where we buy most clothing for Sophia, Wal*Mart. What would we be with out WallyWorld? I guess just a bunch of dads that dress their children in mis-matched clothing.

I will keep practicing and who knows maybe someday soon I will get it, but for now I am resigned to taking instruction and replying "Yes Dear". That way I can most always get the last word in.

More in the adventures of Sophie soon.