Thursday, April 19, 2012

Dear Berkley: You're Such A Fungus

No, seriously, he's got fungus on his head.

I chopped off all of Berkley's hair when Courtney went out of town. Why?
Because it's summer, and that's how we roll.

Quick aside, I'd just like to point out that sometimes Courtney cuts her hair short, which I think is ridiculous for a girl with pretty blonde hair, so if you don't like the boy losing his curls, take it up with her.

Then, since Berkley was so great through the whole thing (he really just liked playing with his hair on the kitchen counter) we went to Target to pick out a new toy. If you think about it, Berkley only has a few toys, so that's a sensible gift. With the addition of a Lightning McQueen toy car that changes faces, we're now up to roughly 6 million toys. So as you can see, he needed that car.

Anyhoo, we went to Target, and I just let him run. While inspecting a Thomas the Train that talked (NO chance we bought that little gem, talking toys can all die) I kept noticing one section of his head looked darker, almost wet. So I rubbed his head a little and noticed it was a scab.

POOR KID. Obviously this means his mother was non-parenting him let him hit his head on something. And THEN left town on me. We only wash the boy every few days (he's free to go bathe himself at any time) and so I just assumed he needed a bath.

But, since it was a scab, and all scabs must be picked immediately, I dug at it a bit. And it came right off. Sweet! With all of the attached hair. Bitter.

He didn't care or even seem to notice, so I figured it wasn't terminal cancer and sent Courtney a picture. The pic was to remind her that her place is in the home dealing with scalp issues, not off gallivanting around the globe doing the Lord's work.

The next day we went to the doctor, terrorized the fish in lobby's aquarium for a few minutes, then got called back by the nurse. She was real nice to the Berkman he was having fun. He was super still while being weighed (finally hitting 30 lb) and so good for her while she poked around in his ears and nose a little. I've noticed he's usually good for blonde haired young women. What's what all about Berk?!

The doctor presented herself a few minutes later and within 19 seconds we were gone. She walks in and says "Hi, Berkley has ringworm, where is the closest pharmacy to you?" I told her. And we were done.

$75 later I had some medicine for him and we are good to go.

Lastly, why the heck is it called ringworm? There are no worms.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Dear Berkley: Dude. That's a Lot of Words

Now that Berkley can carry on a conversation with us, silence is no longer a luxury our home provides. The kid seriously starts talking when he wakes up, chattering away with the books, a few stuffed animals, the dresser drawers, the closet, whatever. He sings all the songs he's ever heard (he really likes Sugarland and Toby Keith's Red Solo Cup, but throws some Jesus songs to keep his mama happy), he practices whistling with his fingers, he yells stuff to whoever may be on the other side of the door.

He stops talking roughly 3 minutes after he is sound asleep at night.

I think it's all great, until we're 30 minutes down the road headed someplace and he has asked for the thirteen-thousandth time "Mama, is it funny?" after naming pretty much everything that he sees. His other favorite thing to ask is "What you doing?" You could have told him 19 times in a row, still, same question.

Over. And. Over. Again.

Anyhow, I'm glad Berk has lots of words, he's far more agreeable now that he can say what he means to say. Life is much easier for Mama and Daddy too. for instance, he now asks permission before doing anything new or anything he knows is risky. But damn. Once he's a little earlier we're implementing a cone of silence in some section of the house. No questions or comments to someone if they're in the cone.

So here's a quick snippet from earlier.

B- "Mama, can I go outside?"
Mama- "No Berkley, it's time for bed."
B- "Is it funny?"
Daddy- "I'll laugh if you go to sleep rather than play in your room for 2 hours throwing every book on the bookshelf all over the floor, then fall asleep by the door 3 minutes before we need to go someplace. That's close enough to funny for daddy."
B- "Say the Lord's Prayer?"

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Dear Berkley: You Don't Have to Wear That

When Berkley was about 6 months Courtney bought him some leg warmers. And no, by leg warmers I do not mean pants. While 99.99954% of the free world just puts on pants when wanting to keep their legs warm, Courtney figured what Berkley really needed were literal leg warmers, as in tights, in ridiculously bright yellow and black stripes.

They were sort of cute, for a ballerina impersonating a bumblebee.

Those lasted one wearing and I had to make an executive decision. Now mind you, Steverino making a "this is how is has to go" statement is not normal in our household. We both embrace the "You're Probably Brighter Than I Am" concept the vast majority of the time and work it out together. In truth, she's a big brighter. But I can work a computer and unclog the toilet, so I stretch the mileage on those talents.

But not on my boy in ballerina tights. This is non-negotiable.

So I said they have to go. And bless Courtney's soul, she just gave a pouty look and we were done with it. No more tights for Mikhail until he can do a triple lutz, or chooses to put them on himself to woo the boy or girl next door, or show up at a Halloween party dressed as his mother's dream.

All that said, Courtney still dresses him pretty cute at times.

Cute = Girly.

Every day around Easter week he wears a shirt with a giant Easter Bunny and his name on it. In fact, now that I type this, I realize he has apparel with his name on it for each holiday. All super...cute. He's routinely in outfits I would wear if we belonged to a ritzy country club and I was going out for a round of golf of a tennis match. He's got multiple pairs of Toms and Crocs.

So son, my message to you is simple: you don't have to wear that. Come see Daddy and we'll dress you in your favorite outfit of all time, rain boots, striped whitey tighties, and a sweet orange pajama top with a picture of a tiger on it. That's not girly at all!

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Dear Berkley: You Are a Tricker

Berkley can crush some sleep, always has been able to. This makes mama and daddy so very happy. Each night he goes to bed between 7:30 and 8:30, each morning up 12 hours later.

This was so for 2 years, until now. Now he's more along these lines:

Berk: You said bed? Sweet, let's play.
Any Adult: For real Berkley, let's sbrush teeth, take a bath (pee in there, will you?), drink some milk, read 43678 stories, go pee again, beg for a few minutes to play, read another story, sing some songs, say some prayers, ask for the Lord's prayer to be said 14 times, get very sleepy and nod off.
Berk: Okay, can I play for a few minutes.
Above scenario plays out, with little variation, he's basically asleep, and we leave his room, locking the door on the way out...

WHAT? We lock the baby in the room?

Hell yes.


Really? He routinely runs into the exact same table with his head. You think he can navigate around a blaze? The door being locked is the best place for him if the house is on fire.

Back to the story.

Berk: Go pee pee?
Any Adult: For real?
Berk: Goooooo peeeeee peeeeeee!
Any Adult: Hunh, let's do it.
Any Adult: ok, back to bed.
Berk: Say the Lord's Prayer?