Mad Skills

He loves to eat paper and Cheerios more than anything else in life. He understands a handful of words but kitty cat is his favorite one.  A ridiculously high-pitched scream. A chronic case of separation anxiety. He cruises through the house like a G.I. who is about to break a world record in the low crawl. And he's finally sleeping through the night.

Philosophy primer

While exchanging Christmas gifts at the mall on Saturday Gabriella suddenly lay down on the ground. Please get up. Why? Because the floor’s dirty. Why? Because people walk on it. Why? Because you’re not Diego and this isn’t the rainforest and we can’t all swing from vines as our major form of transportation. Oh. Why? And it goes on and on like Russian nesting dolls only slightly more adorable. 

Hey batta batta batta

I've written about Dominic's first fantasy football draft, curse of the bambino and seventh-inning stretch. Now the kid's learned to heckle. And I mean, HECKLE. Like a fan drunk on cheap beer, leaning over the rail and calling the ump Mr. Magoo.

Twenty ten

On New Year’s Eve I watched the ball drop on television. That’s right, I stayed up past midnight y’all. I didn’t plan such wild and crazy behavior. But then the baby wouldn’t settle until I brought him downstairs by the fire. And then the toddler woke up and puked all over herself. So there I found myself during the last minutes of 2009 doing laundry way past my normal bedtime and convincing Gabriella to switch the channel from Noggin to Times Square FOR JUST TWO SECONDS, DAMMIT!

Seventh-inning stretch

Dominic claps on command. He stretches on command too. And it’s not just his arms, it’s his legs, it’s his back, it’s his finger and toes. I cannot get over the fact that his first words are clapping and stretching. Most kids start with mama or dada. This kid is starting with bloody Sweet Caroline at Fenway Park.