If you ever want to know what a toddler is thinking, all you have to do is initiate a conversation.
While on Assateague last weekend, we were driving toward the federal side for a day on the beach. Along the way, we pulled over to the side of the road to see what had gotten the attention of all the other motorists.
Of course, it was the horses, and people were scurrying about taking pictures and videos.
Apparently, my 3-year-old Beckett has adopted the “been there, done that” mentality at a young age when it comes to the wildlife on Assateague.
When Pam asked him if he saw the horses, he was quick to request I drive a little further up, saying, “Daddy, I can’t see the motorcycles. I want to see the motorcycles.”
Pam asked, “What about the horses?” he simply responded, “motorcycles.”Along with about 3,700 other people, my family took part in the Komen Race For The Cure last Sunday.
I ran the 5K, while Pam and the kids were relegated to the family fun walk/run since no strollers were allowed in the timed race.
This marked the second straight weekend we hit the Boardwalk for a non-profit cause, as the St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital walk was the weekend prior.
The parental philosophy is here is simple — accomplish two critical tasks at once.
Tire the kids out strolling, walking and running the boards, while also having a teaching moment on the significance of helping others not as blessed.
To my pleasant surprise, Beckett took a keen interest in the assisting others concept, telling anyone and everyone that “I’m walking to help the children’s hospital.” During last weekend’s soaker called the Komen Race For The Cure, he may have been saying something similar, but we wouldn’t know.
We had them in a jogging stroller with more bells and whistles than my Tahoe.
Aside from being capable of pulled by a bike, used as a similar stroller and converted into a folding chair, this jogging stroller also apparently is built for all sorts of weather. Who knew? We did but really never knew far it went until Sunday when the rain dumped on us.
The kids were tucked into the double stroller with an enclosure fastened over the opening and a clear rain cover atop that. The end result being they stayed as dry as ever, despite their parents getting drenched.
Even with those comfy quarters, the kids did get antsy every now and again prior to the race, and I remember hoping nobody had to hit the port-of-potty anytime soon. I knew if Beckett had to go, he would pick the pink ones, and I wasn’t looking forward to that.
It was at this point that we started to every once in a while hear the kids making a ruckus. At times we weren’t sure because of the rainproof layers we added to the stroller, but some loud shrieks did catch our attention. On this particular day, it was Carson inflicting the pain on his big brother.
A fun game has ensued of late, featuring Beckett leaning his head down to Carson, demanding he “pull my hair” in some sort of southern Alabama twang. When Carson acquiesces, Beckett screams, sometimes even after Carson has let go. It’s some sort of twisted brotherly game that’s fun to them.
On race day, the most successful recourse to keeping the kids settled was to just shove in the stroller some bagels, bananas and water bottles (and any other things we could find that were consumable).
That kept them content or at least from what we could hear over the downpours.
Life is all about the drums for Beckett.
That’s a good thing because he’s about to get a drum set next weekend.
The easy answer to the obvious question is “yes”, with the question, of course, being, “are we crazy?”
The fascination has been on for about a year and has reached its peak intensity over the last month after being introduced to the wonderful world of arcade drums on the Boardwalk.
At $1.50 a clip, the game can take a toll on the wallet, considering there’s no chance we are getting out of there without at least six songs (only one song per play).
I must admit it’s an enjoyable $10 to watch my son bang on the skins, while Carson is nearby showing off some of his favorite dance moves. Rather than raise the roof, his go-to move is pushing down with his hands and shrugging his shoulders to the beat.
For Pam and me, our little game with the kids is to pick songs we like because they don’t really care. I don’t think Beckett half of the time is even aware there’s music coming out of the game. It’s all about banging and banging and banging on the drums and it doesn’t matter to him if the Allman Brothers or not.
While watching a video of the drums being assembled the other night, I started to realize I am looking forward to some drum solos myself. This is the first gift to my son that I’m actually anxious to try out.
The problem with that is Beckett will be in a “no share” mood for the first couple days, and I will have to get creative to sneak in my drum practice.
It will be interesting to see what I think of this drum set a couple months from now. The answer to that crazy question will most certainly be: “what were we thinking?”