Dear Berkley: When You Scream Like A Little Girl, God Kills a Puppy

As Berkley continues to develop a personality and exert his independence with said personality, Courtney and I have both reveled in watching him become more of a real person, and less of a eating, pooping, sleeping machine. Unfortunately, this has recently come with a bit of... high-pitched-screaming-like-his-feet-are-fire-for-no- apparant-reason.

Happy? Why not scream about it?
Didn't get something you want? How about trying to lay on the floor and scream while Momma and I go about our business as if you don't exist.
Hey, you tired? Hungry? I've got an idea, you should scream about it.

As you scream, Daddy will be over here wondering if the doctor would report us for putting one of those collars that keep dogs from barking around your leg.

So, if you're thinking of having kids and can't wait until they can talk to you, just remember, that additional vocal dexterity goes both ways. Equally as sweet as the "Da-dy" you hear first thing in the morning when you get him out of bed is the fingernails-on-a-chalkboard scream of an 18 month old trying to say "Hey mfer, did you not see that was Yo Gabba is on TV? GO BACK!"

Dear Berkley: This is Where Daddy Works, and My Mamma Sent Me to Regular Preschool

Today I got to get Berkley up and play with him for an hour or so while Courtney went to register him for pre-school. That got me thinking, and now here's the Blog post.

I should admin that I was a pretty terrible student. I always did whatever I needed to in order to get by. I wasn't terribly focused in the classroom. I mostly wanted to play sports. Fortunately, school seemed geared for the kids who needed a little more coaching, so this didn't exactly require any mental olympics until I was in college at Wake. There was that "Jet Math" class in 4th grade. Woot!

Yet, somehow, here I am today, contributing to society along with everyone else.

So I got to thinking: What difference does it make where Berkley goes to preschool?
So what if he doesn't learn to read until he's 5 or 6? Once you can read, you're in. There are no super-readers out there. You can read like an adult, or not so much.
Any who cares if he's not very good at coloring, or has a vocabulary that doesn't include "escheat" or "deleterious" when he's 16? Nobody I like uses those words in day to day conversation.

I went to the available preschool. I'm pretty sure my mom didn't search all over town for the very best 2 year old education she could find. Heck, I fell off of the same chair and busted my chin, TWICE. Must not have been Harvard Junior School.

Here's hoping Berkley is just fun to be around (like me), nice to people (like Courtney, NOT me), and is decent at something he enjoys. I find those a much better litmus test for future success than being a wonder kid mentally.

Dear Berkley: I Hope You Are Warm

Berkley has 12 coats. Twelve. That's one for every day of the week, and an additional 5 in the event we were to enter the next Ice Age.

I was trolling through the house this weekend, picking up after he so gracefully threw all of his toys all over the downstairs of the house and then threw anything he could find upstairs off of the balcony. (Don't feel sorry for me, Courtney does this more than once a day I'm told). Anyhow, I was picking up, and I started gathering his clothes too. I picked up a brown corduroy coat that makes Berkley look like a frat star. I picked up a blue and red striped zippered hoodie that makes Berkley look like a track star. I picked up TWO fleece jackets. He's fleeced out.

Then after the nap I went to hang them up in his closet and BANG, the coats just kept coming. I was astonished. At Christmas there was a coat drive for kids downtown. My kid has 12 he will grow out of in the next 6 months.

Welcome to America.

Dear Berkley: What the Heck Are You Talking About

Berkley just runs around the house these days, destroying everything, babbling words he's picked up. Right now he just finished emptying a container of cards (like announcement cards people sent us for milestones in their lives) and now has moved on to taking all of the diapers and sheets out of his changing table.

AND now back to the cards. Which he is throwing off of the upstairs balcony.

The entire time, he's alternating "happy" and growling at whatever he is working on making a mess of.

Nicely done my boy, nicely done.

Dear Berkley: Don't Tell Your Mother

I'm going to go ahead and admit that I get a little pleasure from having little secrets with Berkley that his mother does not know about. Tonight, which Courtney went to the gym, Berkley and I went to the local bar and had Irish Car Bombs. Ok, we didn't really do that, but I gave him a couple of the nerds I was eating, and more than a couple Special K flakes. He was a big fan of both. Don't tell.

Dear Berkley: You Have to Slow Down to Go Fast

Once, I got a promotion and the first thing my boss advised me to do was nothing. he said "you have to slow down to go fast, so first: slow down." Of course I had no idea what he was talking about, and spent the next 6 months beating my head against various walls. I thought he meant to work slower, and do less. But he didn't. He meant to do the right work, and let other people do their jobs, make a good plan and hold them accountable, etc. In the end, he was right. Slowing down, getting the lay of the land, weighing options, and then committing to a group decision ended up being a better way of going about things. People did their work, they were invested (as were their bonuses), work was produced in a more manageable and predictable manner.

Berkley only knows fast, until about 4 minutes before bed when he gets into his sleep sack and finally relaxes. Or until Yo Gabba Gabba is turned on the television at any point in the day. Then he'll sit quietly. Otherwise he's everywhere, into everything, discovering, getting messy, wanting things, just playing in general.

But, I notice that when he gets perplexed by something, and we DON'T help him, he slows down, studies over it for a while, and then figures it out. How to open a lid on a plastic container, how to disassemble.... anything. How to climb onto something. Last week it was how to slide down the stairs on his belly. Last night it was how to open the lid on a plastic tub. He invariably conquers these obstacles not by whining or feverishly going at them, but by stopping, paying close attention, and trying several options until he gets it all figured out.

I've noticed lots of people could really use this lesson, from both ends. First of all, kids don't need nearly as much help as we think they do. They seem to figure out how to do plenty if you stop helping them do everything. I think this is how Berkley figured out how to sleep all night, walk, feed himself, etc. We didn't coach the kid. He just wanted the results and kept at it. Second, I notice so many parents are... frantic about the littlest things.

Is my child as clean as possible, germ free, are they doing all the right things a 15 month old should do, do they have enough friends, are those the RIGHT friends? Etc, etc. This list could go on forever just from things I've observed, and quite frankly I don't pay that much attention to other people. just ask my wife.

In sum, I think kids and parents would be much better if they just slowed down, and had a little faith in things going fast in their own time. Husbands and wives might benefit from my bosses advice, too ;)

Dear Berkley: Know How to Build a Fire

A man has to have some skills. And by skills, I mean outdoor, self reliant skills. Because even if you live in WASP suburbia like I do, every once in a while you have to do something outdoorsy, and look like a 'tard if you can't pull it off. Or, you spend a lot of money having someone else pull it off for you, which makes you look like a big pansy.

We bought a house with a fire pit. This means I have to make a fire from time to time so I can get the tasty goodness that is roasted marshmallows and on an even better night: s'mores. Of course, this isn't exactly the same as building a fire because your plane has crashed and you're stranded in the Alps awaiting rescue. But you have to know how to build a fire: here's how:

1) Rummage around the yard and get some sticks. These sticks should be dry, and all sorts of different sizes, from super skinny and easy to burn, all the way up to as big around as your wrist. Try and find some sticks that have exposed wood. In other words, if you have to, bust out your machete and chop a piece of wood into some skinny kindling where there is no bark. Bark doesn't burn well. This is called EVOLUTION. Trees do not want to burn, so they have bark.

2) If you're going to be having a fire go a pretty long time, you probably want some even bigger logs. I said log.

3) Get a piece of newsprint, of some paper that burns easily. Wad it up in a loose ball.
4) Build a teepee, or log cabin/pyramid of sticks over top of the wad of newspaper. use the small sticks on the bottom, then put bigger and bigger sticks on top the farther you get from the paper.
5) Light the paper, stand back, and enjoy. Once things catch, add more sticks or logs. Log again!

There is the odd chance you don't have anything to light the fire. In this instance, you are probably far out in the woods, and not near your house. Because chances are in your house, you have a lighter, or matches for candles, or could just go to the store and get one or the other. In this event you are probably screwed. BUT, if you're pretty handy, here's a couple of ideas:

1) If it's sunny outside, get a coke can and a chocolate bar (I know you have chocolate, for the s'mores). Use the chocolate to polish the bottom of the coke can until it's super shiny. You could also use toothpaste. Then, use the bottom of the can to focus sunlight onto the paper, and start a fire.
2) If you have any steel wool and a battery, you can rub them together and the steel wool will make sparks. This is pretty tough and you have to be quick. For this on you also have to have tinder, not newspaper. Tinder is very dry, light, fibrous, burnable wood.
3) Lastly, use a knife and certain rocks to create sparks on tinder. Again hard, so Good luck with this one.

Some people can use a hand drill or bow to make fire. There people have magic power. Stay away from them.

So, all said, go make a fire, and be a man. Oh and don't burn your house down. Try and have a water hose or a bucket or water nearby. Next week we'll learn how to mount your HDTV over the mantle.