Winter 2011 Roundup

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Santa came to Washington with a bound!

2) Daddy went surfing in Costa Rica

3) Monster Truck Show at Verizon

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) The Big Money, Rush, A Show of Hands (released 1989)

2) Classic Girl, Janes Addiction, Ritual De Lo Habitual (released 1990)

3) Get it On (Bang a Gong), The Power Station, The Power Station (released 1985)

Terrapin

Dad & Luke's Four Year and a Half

Several images flash through a father’s mind upon learning he has a son. Visions of great deeds and heroic ventures (feats far surpassing the father’s achievements) are followed by flashes of the grueling parental work necessary to achieve such glory. Then arrives a thrilling and less encumbering image: that of a couch, some chips, and a TV. A son is the ideal mate to watch one's favorite team!

No more halftimes destroyed by a friend that has to go home to a demanding wife! Fortified by shared passion for a team handed down from one generation to the next, games are transformed from marital distraction into the very roots of male American family bonding. What a deal!

Such hand offs are a social requirement in some societies. In Brazil, where the world’s eighth largest economy is swayed by the performance of their beloved "A Seleção", a son that fails to revere the yellow and blue will disgrace his father. Being an ardent Duke fan and alum, I understand this ... because you are my traitor son.

"Daddy, I'm a Maryland Terrapin!"

I was shocked. One moment I was your father, the next, a violated DNA delivery machine. I'd been seducing you into the Duke Nation, fulfilling your destiny and my vision (or perhaps the other way around). Yet "Go Duke!" chants rolled sleepily off your tongue into bored nothingness. This sudden alignment with the Twerps was a titanic disaster.

I had Joe to thank at Addie Bassin's Wine Shop. An ardent Maryland fan, he plotted against me. All it took was a timely lollipop to buy your allegiance. I sealed the deal by overreacting, "WHAT ?!?!?!?!" My theatrics were not only entertaining, but the Luke-mind is adept at identifying leverage. Becoming a Maryland Terrapin was a new chip to play!

"Poddy" by Luke Weller

Your sense of humor is evidence of an awakening emotional intelligence that thrills me. You identify subtle interpersonal undercurrents and play off them. Honestly, you are becoming a complex and highly entertaining person. I'm so proud of you.

Love,

Dad

Tether

Cash & Daddy's Second Year and a Half

Throw a rock in water and, kurplunk, a beautiful pattern of concentric circles emerge. Unfortunately, those ripples lose energy as they expand, a function of the distance squared, otherwise the pattern would delight forever. A similar algorithm is imbedded in children.

I call it the Law of Willpower Loss (the “LWL”): the farther a child get’s from a parent, the faster energy drains from his willpower. He get’s more and more uncomfortable, first drastically, then hysterically. It’s an invisible energy tether keeping the child close.

That’s the usual deal. Cash, kids like you are the dangerous exception. These children surf what should be a wave of growing fear, gaining speed and confidence inversely proportional to the LWL. A wound-up spring unleashed, I often watch helplessly as the back of your hay-head speeds away killing any illusion of who is really tethered to whom. To you and your brethren, nothing says freedom like -- 

RUN!

Frustratingly, you show no sign of this pent up energy when securely in my power radius. In fact, quite the opposite -- speed isn’t in your vocabulary. If I give you any instruction whatsoever, without turning you say, “Two minutes”, throwing two lackless two fingers in the air. The Cashese interpretation: I’m not moving.

If you were a superhero, you’d be Captain Independence. You are unencumbered by parental, teacher or peer pressure (that will come), and you are not above flaunting your disregard. Take our tireless work on potty training. You recently whipped out your peeps, smiled at me, then peed on the kitchen floor. Not done, you then dipped your hair in the puddle and said, “Daddy, I’m wet!”

I'd be worried if you didn’t have a razor sharp wit and experimental mind. Nonetheless, some of these experiments leave me wondering.

Perhaps after that video, we should end with a sample of your wit. Vanessa and Tavis visited us this quarter pregnant with their first child. Noticing the little bump in her stomach, you pointed and said, "There's a baby in there!" We had no idea how you figured it out, but I suppose you picked it up just casually listening. Then you lifted you shirt showing your bare, white belly and screamed, "I'm empty!"

You've started your first ever class at River School. You are the Firefly class with two wonderful teachers named Mrs. XXX and Ms. XXX. Not surprisingly, you best friend is a girl. Shocker. Her name is Dagney and you appear to be a couple, Cashanova.

Love,

Dad

 

Fall 2010 Roundup

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Luke & Cash started River School!

2) We had a snake and beaver hit Halloween! Daddy was Luke Skywalker.

3) Mommy & Daddy went to Rome with the Linehans.

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Suburban War, Arcade Fire, The Suburbs (released 2010)

2) Classic Girl, Janes Addiction, Ritual De Lo Habitual (released 1990)

3) Get it On (Bang a Gong), The Power Station, The Power Station (released 1985)

Kaizen

Luke & Dad's Fifth Year and a Quarter

When I was growing up in the eighties, the American auto industry was under siege by Japanese manufacturers. The press proclaimed the end of U.S. innovation leadership. Japanese cars were cheaper, better made, and after years of comfortable dominance, the U.S. was caught sitting on its hands.

I've since investigated the source of the innovation culture in Japan. I learned Japan's "technical superiority" had little to do with their success. Instead, the Japanese created a novel approach to manufacturing called Kaizen which means “change for the better."

Instead of treating line workers as brainless robots, the empowered them to innovate the manufacturing process. It made all the difference. Core to Kaizen was problem solving method called "5 Whys." Ask "why" to a problem five successive times and you drill down to the root cause.

Children practice Kaizen too. Some, like you, more rigorously. I call it Kaizenathon or "50 Whys." It's sometimes hard to be patient during these intensive interrogations. A line of questioning can last hours and you have a habit of starting these right before bed! Nonetheless, it is a blessing to witness your mind making connections that make up a web of knowledge.

Sometimes I'm stumped.

Not all knowledge is accessed through bridges. Some ideas are islands unto themselves. Those are particularly hard to explain by fathers.

This fall, we made the tough decision to switch from Aiden Montessori to The River School. The reason was simple: Rachel and I felt a smaller class size would better engage Cashy and you. We didn't want the two of you lost in a sea of twenty children. River is also in the Palisades, within walking distance. We like feeling close to you guys! Nonetheless, its was a painful decision because we liked the Montessori approach and our friends there.

At The River School, you are in the "Beaver" class and you have three teachers: Mrs. Insley, Ms. Kim, and Ms. Brown. Your best friend is another blonde boy named Charlie Magruder. Apparently you two tear it up.

To give you a sense of the enthusiasm you have for River School, on Halloween you demanded to dress as a beaver (see roundup above). Rachel and I obliged of course and how could we not? More fun pictures for your wedding day!

Love,

Daddy

Blind Men

Cash & Daddy's Second Year and a Quarter

In an old legend, a group of blind men each grab a different part of an elephant. “It is a pillar!” says one. He touched a leg. Another says, “It’s a plowshare.” He touched a tusk. On down the line, each man reaches a radically different conclusion.

When getting to know someone, I am often one of these blind men. Grasping a personality is often realizing you are only holding one part of the beast. You might meet a co-worker in a new setting, say a social or family environment, and you discover unexplored territory. The experience can be jarring. A passive person turns into a monster on the basketball court -- an aggressiveness you never imagined!

Cashy, many a friend will experience observational whiplash with you. On your behavioral stage, some hardy personalities tangle and elbow their way to the front. How they reside in the same person is a mystery!

Perhaps some introductions are due …

Well, hello Cashonova. Of course you are the first. The shortest distance between any two points is your path to the nearest gorgeous woman. She’ll pick you up faster than a fluffy puppy dog, look into your eyes, and experience untainted innocence smiling upon her. She is loved and so are you. Your head graces the female bosom more often than a pillow. Even worse, you down right expect it. You already have a girlfriend in two-year-old FireFly class: Dafnie. You beat me by fifteen years!

Whoa! Not so pushy Casholeon! You’ve received your due in earlier entries of this blog! Yes, your relentless campaign for territory and toys has left a mark on our household leaving your older brother whimpering. Bored after 5 minutes of the World Cup, you turned the off daddy's TV repeatedly. Once fixed on a prize, your body barrels through mental, physical and even verbal barriers causing my hairline to retreat faster than a French infantry line. And what is the need for inherent physical power when you can harness the power of others! Casholeon is bossy!

Things must be getting overwhelming. Casherubim has beaten a hasty retreat into Mommy’s pouch. Peering from this safe vantage point, your two-year-old remarks gain pomp. “Daddy is a poo.” If daddy or Luke approach, you turn your head away, nestling deeper into moma’s embrace. You are a moma’s boy through and through, and, you’ve learned quite well, untouchable in that state! Rachel is thrilled.

We are charmed to have all these flavors in one child! The icing on the cake, however, is your smarts. Cashy insights strike unexpectedly like lightening on a cloudless day. Last week, Lukey and I were chatting about his newest favorite subject, volcanoes. You were lounging around on the floor playing, ignoring us (as usual). Luke’s overly thorough interrogation led us to a logical impasse. “But WHY do volcanos erupt?” I was doing a terrible job explaining the pressure build up of magma within a volcano. Then, suddenly out of thin air, you say,

“It’s like a bubble popping.”

Bam!

Love,

Daddy

Summer 2010 Roundup

Top three household events this birthday quarter:

1) We went to Duck, NC with the Fredericks.
2) We spent a month in Boulder, CO with our friend Melinda.
3) We watched the 4th of July parade in the Palisades!

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Lazy Eye, Silversun Pickups, Carnavas (released 2007)
2) Cosmic Love, Flamingo & the Machine, Lungs (released 2009)
3) Teenage Dream, Kate Perry, Teenage Dream (released 2010)

Friping

Luke & Daddy's Fourth Year

I thought I was prepared. Harvard trained in negotiation and wrangler of concession at work, I brought a hardened game to the elementary work of arguing with a four year old. Hell, when I was in business school, controversy emerged over the training of Harvard students in negotiating tactics. The media reported on overly privileged Harvard vampires being armed to “take advantage of the rest of us!” Yet, the very book that trained us, Getting to Yes, best describes your instinctual ability to crumble my balsa wood defenses.

Our duels always begin with an unacceptable Lukie request. “Can I have a lollypop?” moments before dinner. “Can I drive?” Jeez, how old are you? “Can I have a sip of your coke?” When this happens, I immediately brace myself for the inevitable faceoff, an ordeal that will pound my willpower. Like any good business school student, I have an acronym for your “Getting to Yes” strategy: FRIPing.

Fibbing
Small lies are effective tactics for a four year old. Then again sometimes not. “Daddy, I finished by broccoli. Can I have a cookie?” when sitting in front of a full portion of broccoli.

Repetition
Your mind numbing repetition of the “ask” is torture. Being stuck in the car listening to “Can we go to Palisades Pizza? Can we go to Palisades Pizza? Can we go to Palisades Pizza?” makes me want to cry right now.

Information Asymmetry
A twist on the tried and true “ask the other parent” strategy, you actually falsify approvals and present them to an unsuspecting adult. This Machiavellian approach frequently lands me in trouble!

Persistence
A cousin of repetition, you adhere to Churchill’s adage: “Never, never, never, never give up.” You chip away concrete by staying on message and upping the emotional ante. Raising volume and intensity bends your opponent to snap.

Effective is the word I would use describe your FRIP strategy. Nonetheless, I have developed countermeasures. I call my approach FABY and I would put it up against any child rearing book out there.

Flight
Running away from the problem is a highly underrated tactic. A couple earplugs, a closed door and a pillow and I can zone out any tantrum.

Ask Mom
Also called punting. I like this approach if I am on a separate floor from Rachel otherwise I wind up retreating to a more extreme version of Flight ... out of the house.

Bribing
Frequently this involves trading one evil for another. Often times I try to downgrade the evil or at least put it on a time frame when I'm not around.

Yell
With you, intimidation is a weak bluff as you tend to call this behavior with louder, more extreme screaming. Nonetheless, its a good way to attract attention and get your mom to take over.

As you can imagine, we have very rich interactions these days. Yet, your classic lines are solo and come out of the blue. When Mom and you were in a landing airplane this quarter, you screamed, "We're going to crash!" at the top of your lungs. The possibility of a crash is exciting and fun to an immortal four year old; the rest of the plane was less pleased.

Happy Birthday Luke! We celebrated your birthday in Boulder, CO this year with several members of Rachel's family. I bought you a Lightening McQueen pinata that proved nearly impossible to bust open!

Love,

Daddy

Cannon

Cash & Dad's Second Year

A Wellerism is a directive masquerading as an honest question. The question is both smoke, in that it is a query in the first place, and mirror, reflecting a mask of self-denial about the real intent. Inevitably, the underlying meaning is revealed because we overuse our Wellerisms. A well worn path is never well hidden.

Rachel suffers gravely from a Wellerism I am fond of: “Is everything ok?” Beneath this cloak of caring lurks an accusation: you are doing something wrong. In truth, the statement is a symptom of the opposite: I am doing something wrong.

Now Cash, true to your heritage, you have developed a simple but more potent Wellerism:

“Help me?”

Looking up with eyes seeping innocence, you plead, arms outstretched, "Help me?" to be picked up. Seems natural enough. Except, you no more want my help than Napoleon wants “help” from his prized horse Marengo in Louis David’s painting Napoleon Crossing the Alps.

Once ensconced in my arms, you whip out a Napoleonesc finger in the direction of some campaign. I am being commanded. I gallop around the house engaging in all matter of Cashy directives and if I dare deviate, you rein me in with an electrifying screech. I’m your bridled horse ... or how about stallion ;)

I guess it shouldn't be surprising that you share other interests with Napoleon. The emperor once said, "Nothing is more destructive than the charge of artillery on a crowd." You've applied this affinity to me. 

Changing your diapers, I am occasionally met with giggling and a purposeful look in your eye. Spreading your legs, I am struck by a cannon shot of spraying poop. It took several incidents before it sunk in that this was serial, premeditated cannoning. The wild, hysterical, Cashy laughter should have tipped me off.

Very funny.

Today, diaper changes are world record sprints in changing, dodging to avail you no target. To add insult to injury, when you've eaten spicy food, you often ask for a kiss. You want kisses where it hurts. Yes, you are actually asking me to kiss your ...

Happy Birthday Cashy! Your second birthday arrived in spectacular celebration at Palissades Park near our house. Rachel did a great job getting lots of friends to come despite the overbearing Washington summer heat. Too bad you had no idea what was going on.

Love,

Dad

Spring Roundup

Top three household events this quarter:

1) The Fredericks gave you guys a mini roller coaster for the backyard.
2) We visited Granpda and Grandma in Grand Junction.
3) Daddy went to Abu Dhabi and Dubai in the Middle East.

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Policeman's Xmas Party, Five for Fighting, Two Lights (released 2006)
2) 1901, Phoenix, Wolfgang Amadeus (released 2009)
3) Pets, Porno for Pyros, Porno for Pyros (released 1993)

Momentum

Luke & Dad's Third Year and Three Quarters

Luke, you like a schedule and so do I. Arriving home at 7 pm, I am frequently met by a sonic boom of grunts and groans. Who knew that pooping signatures could rival the efficacy of voice and facial recognition? Like a caricature artist capturing essence in a pen stroke, a touch of these sounds and smells and I know it’s you! Unfortunately, this form of identification works in my NEA office restroom too.

I suppose I’m overly focused on your excremental behavior. Hell, it’s hard to ignore. Yesterday, you exited our bathroom with a strip of toilet paper streaming out the back of your jeans. You looked me in the eye and said matter of factly, “tyrannosaurus tail,” turned and marched on.

During Snowmageddon in February, you stole outside, jumped from our deck into three feet of snow, dug out your “peeps” from layers of clothing and peed patterns on the snow. Addressing my questioning look, you said, “I'm changing the color of the snow!”

Fortunately, our interest in the banal hasn't stunted an exploration of the abstract. Watching Pixar's The Incredibles, you asked why Mr. Incredible's RV rolled after a high speed turn. "Daddy, why is it crashing instead of turning?" Your vehicle fetish has a shockingly positive derivative: you've turned you into a little Newton discovering the first laws of motion!

I explained that if an object has movement in a direction, it doesn't want to give up. The more massive it is, the more stubborn it gets. We now have a little mantra, "Mass and Fast is Momentum!" You completely understand the concept. If a car has trouble stopping, you say, "it has momentum." Why does a truck have more trouble stopping? "It's bigger!" Does a stopped car have momentum? "No." Now we are working on the distinction between velocity and acceleration. From there we can attack force!

You may be more Einstein than Newton. Poking at a puzzle of different shapes, you paused and said, "Are the circles getting smaller because I am getting bigger?" Ahhh, the concept of relative measurement ... a couple more steps and you'll have the theory of relativity nailed!

The cherry blossoms are blooming here in DC yet I'm still reading The Night Before Christmas. Your true hero is no scientist but a right jolly old elf reinforcing that the path to your heart is littered with presents. Leave it to me to contort your affections into the monstrous "Santa Claus Effect." I reign in wayward behavior by announcing "Santa is watching you!" You have no fear of Mommy, Cashy or me but Santa ... he is control of the loot.

Love,

Dad

Five

Cash and Dad's First Year and Three Quarters

Tight knit groups develop a culture and language all their own. Gaining admission can be awkward at best, dangerous at worst, and might involve streaking across a quad or running in combat boots across a beach. Of course, once you are in the club, its entertaining watching others struggle to join! This is true of my high school cliques, my venture capital partnership, and, yes, our ragged little family.

You can tell a lot about a person by his or her composure during the courting (or pledging) period. In your case, you have not waited for an invitation. The price of admission was birth, but your impact is that of a mob GodFather. Imagine a stocky two footer with a protruding belly entering a room with boastful gesticulations and attaboy chatter. From thirty feet, you are right in with the gang!

The thing is, you are pointing at god knows what, taking gibberish. When Rachel, Luke and I laugh, you laugh, though you don't understand a word! You are all clothes, no emperor!

Then comes the mistake. The mistake arrives in many forms, but often it is a reasonable action, with the wrong object -- trying to write with grandpa's red licorice. Or it could be a reasonable object, but the wrong action -- offering a glass of juice for Churchill to drink. You are downright hilarious!

One of my friends, Jimmy Treybig, founder of Tandem Computing, once said that an organization should allow its culture to influence and be influenced by new people. You have brought a fearlessness to our family that I am proud of. You also tie us together. You won't let anyone leave your sight without insisting on a farewell high five, or "Five!" Interestingly, you require symmetry in this: you have to "five" both hands in sequence!

Cash, you have been dealt a gem trait in life: charm. It will forever lower the barrier into many a hardened troupe.

Now that you've woven yourself into the family unit, we can't seem to keep you around. Given any opening, you make a mad dash for freedom. This week, Rachel took you and Luke to a bathroom within a Starbucks off Wisconsin Avenue. While Rachel was engaged keeping Luke's butt on the potty, you shot out the bathroom door, past an astonished coffee que, out the Starbucks entrance, and down the sidewalk towards your favorite toy store. Rachel and Luke (with his pants around his ankles) made a motley crew trying to chase you down. Once again, no fear!

In one small victory this quarter, we have managed to graduate from purely "Nos" to our first "Yes!" on January 30th, 2010. You agreed to a lollipop.

Love,

Dad

Winter 2010 Roundup

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Snowpocalypse 2010 snowed us in! 32 inches! Then another foot two days later!
2) The dynamic duo sledded for the first time!
3) Daddy turned 40. Ugh.

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Jump, Van Halen, 1984 (released 1984)
2) Jamming, Exodus, Bob Marley (released 1977)
3) Wynona's Big Brown Beaver, Primus, Tales from the Punch Bowl (released 1995)

Bazaar

Luke and Dad's Third Year and a Half

At exactly 9:15 am December 9th, 2009, I was quietly ushered into Mr. Antonucci's classroom at Aiden. The school occasionally invites a parent to observe the Montessori method in a classroom setting. Mrs. Antonucci put me in a far corner chair like a jealous scientist protecting her fragile experiment. She reminded me that observation is just that, not participation.

At first you did not see me. You sat with your back to me scribbling and chattering with your friend, Peter Kumar. When you noticed me, I got a wide smile, and a proud introduction, “This is MY daddy!” Working quickly to mend her punctured bubble, Mrs. Antonnuci pressed you towards a puzzle of cylinders. In classic Luke style, you stubbornly resisted, but your campaign wilted in the face Mrs. Antonnuci’s thick fortifications.

Children roamed around, played at tables, or worked on floor mats scattered all over the room. The kids were spread in both age and the sophistication of their schemes, and they worked individually and in groups. I suppose I expected an orderly circle of children being taught about a frog or something. The classroom scene resembled a chaotic market bazaar. I felt a sinking feeling that, perhaps, I had gotten you into a Montessori mess!

Then I noticed something remarkable. Upon completion of a cylinder puzzle, you returned the contraption back to its proper storage place. What the hell! That never happened at home ... ever. Then you started a new venture, picking another puzzle. You grabbed a mat and laid it out methodically on the floor establishing a working area creating an educational microcosm, a protected area of concentration. You sat and worked through your project.

Mrs. Antonucci was the conductor, orchestrating the pace of the projects, allowing each child’s innate interest and creativity set course but, when necessary, sprinkling that path with more challenging and expansive activities. She and her staff also policed and preserved childrens' working areas. The older children were expected to help.

So, my first impression was right, the class was more like a free market bazaar than the centralized, communal teaching approach I had been programmed to picture. What I saw in its place resonated strongly with me.

The most successful people I know (mostly entrepreneurs) learned far more in life by fiercely following their own interests. A path hewn by one’s own ideas derives knowledge because it is a necessity, a set of tools, to get where one wants to go. Coupled with quality guidance and a willingness to accept it, you have a winner. Einstein was not a great mathematician, but became adept with help from his peers. Math was just a means to express his own concepts to the world.

Proof in point, you’ve resisted learning letters through flash cards or other blunt instruments. However, you love books and, as a result, became interested in the strange symbols Rachel and I clearly used to decode the storyline. Today, January 31st, 2009, you spelled out your first word “KETTLE” out of the book XXXXXXX. Sure, you can’t read, but you are clearing a path because you want to decode the books.

By the way, you show glimpses of high emotional intelligence too. A couple weeks ago the two of us were sitting together, you playing with Playdough, and I writing a to-do list in my little black book. You looked me square in the eye, put your hands on both my cheeks, and asked, “What do you think when you are alone?” I was dumbfounded.

Luke, I think about you, Cash and Rachel.

Love,

Dad

Gobbledygook

Cash and Dad's First Year and Three Quarters

Working at Bell Labs in 1964, our friend Arno Penzias was experimenting with a super-sensitive antenna when he observed a low, steady, mysterious signal in the receiver. It was so unexpected, so unexplainable, he cleaned pigeon droppings from the antenna to eliminate possible causes. In spite of the scientific community's sentiment that his signal was just noise, Arno steadfastly hunted for an explanation for years.

I have great empathy for Arno’s experience because finding something so unexplainable is maddening. Take the way you talk, or don’t talk. These days, your gobbledygook teases us with tantalizing morsels of signal, signs of communication. So we parse your verbal landscape looking for crumbs of logical expression. Instead, we have discovered a singular "word" expressed with such delight, such intent, that I know it has meaning, but you won’t find it any dictionary.

“DEEEEYAAAH!”

I’ve taken this word, turned it over and over in my head, picked away at piece sounds like Arno did his bird droppings hoping to find a recognizable word remaining. No luck.

I accept that our world is a churning sea of fascinating but often incomprehensible phenomena. Distilling a signal from a vast ocean of noise, and believing in that pattern recognition, is fundamental to mankind’s ability to establish beachheads of comprehension. In Arno’s case, he eventually found researchers at Princeton that had predicted radiation with the same characteristics as his observations, a radiation signature proving the Big Bang. Arno won the Noble Prize in Physics in 1978. His persistence paid off.

But I still don’t know what deeyah means. You remind me of that daily restating your case with the incomprehensible! We can decipher this much: Deeyah is an exclamation of happiness ... and we love hearing you say it. When you do, the entire Weller clan repeats the call in unison, “Deeeyah!” and we smile together. Deeyah is becoming our family call to action! Like Arno, I’ll be persistent about uncovering the specific meaning, but I know it has something to do with family happiness.

Your lack of words strikes a contrast to your love of books. You are a book worm. Promptly after slurping down your baba every morning, you go and grab a book, waddle over to me, turn around so your butt faces me, and back up like a blind beeping garbage truck until you plop into my lap. We churn through four or five books. Your favorite book right now is Little Gorilla.

The issue is, your book reading endurance far exceeds mine, particularly for the very same books. You love revisiting the same worlds, but for me its like eating the same candy over and over. There are sores in my brain. I can't contain a moan when you bring over Thomas Rides Again!

This quarter, we had our very first Cashy injury. You fell on a piece of glass at the restaurant Open City. Rachel had to take you to the hospital and you got stitches that crossed pass your thumb onto your palm. As you got your stitches, the doctor was impressed at how little you cried.

Maybe its in response to falling on something hard and sharp, but we've noticed that you've taken shine to soft things. You climb on to our bed, stand up, and then fall like cut tree onto our down comforter. Strangely, you just lay there, face down in the comforter for minute relishing the warm cuddly feelings. If someone leaves a pillow on the floor, its not uncommon to find you face down on it, silent, blind, and, apparently, completely content!

Love,

Daddy

Fall Roundup

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Vanessa's Wedding in XXX, NY!
2) Cabining at the beach with the Silvergleids.
2) Luke and Daddy went to the "Walking with Dinosaurs" at the Verizon Center and went to the Annapolis sailboat show.

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Fireflies, Owl City, Ocean Eyes (released 2009)
2) M79, Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend (released 2008)
3) Get it On (Bang a Gong), The Power Station, The Power Station (released 1985)

Crying Wolf

Luke and Dad’s Third Year and a Quarter

Your morning is a giddy white canvas anticipating the painters touch. The darker shades of evening, however, has depth your imagination reaches into. It's a magical time of day and you don't relish the end. "I want to stay up ALL night!" You resent the unrelenting bosses who impose sleep. So you stall!

Herding a thousand cats is nothing compared to putting you to bed. The wrestling starts with dinner which you view as the bedtime on-ramp, so you look for cover. I've tried many tactics to lure you to the dinner table. Creating a sense of urgency by counting down -- "I want you at the table in ... Three! Two! One!" -- used to work. Then a few weeks ago I started my countdown and was interrupted, "Daddy, Three! Two! NOOO!"

Eventually, hunger overcomes theatrics. Once you've eaten, it's bath time with Cashy. Unfortunately, entering and exiting the bath is a negotiation of flailing arms and legs thrashing for purchase and delay. Everyone gets soaked. I've created a nice incentive for you to get your pajamas on: I keep the temperature low!

As Rachel puts down Cash, you and I watch exactly 10 minutes of a Thomas the Train Engine video. Then we go to your bedroom carrying a baba and two passies, read one book (Sheep on a Ship is our current favorite) and head to the bathroom for the highlight of my day: brushing your teeth. Brushing your teeth involves thwarting germs that, left unabated, paint your teeth yellow with tiny paintbrushes. You are a very enthusiastic tooth brusher! When we are done, we smile together into the mirror comparing white teeth and test new facial expressions.

Now your mother takes over, reading a second story then she sings your special song, "My Lukey flies over the ocean, My Lukey flies over the sea ..." She plops you down to sleep.

By this time, everyone is exhausted from the ordeal and Rachel and I usually flop on the couch. Then, invariably, a call rings out from upstairs, "Mommy!! Daddy!! Come upstairs! I neeeeeeed you!" You cry wolf nearly every night and you are getting more and more creative with your call to action.

Luke's Top Ten Reasons for Calling Wolf

10. "Daddy, I peeped in my dipes!"
9. "Da Da, a storm is coming!"
8. "Daddy, I don't need you, I need ma ma."
7. "Daddy, leave the door WIDE open!"
6. "Da Da, I don't like my shirt."
5. "Daddy, what are you doing downstairs?"
4. "Daddy, my guitar is looking at me."
3. "Daddy, I'm sweating."
2. "Da Da, my passy has a dog hair on it."
1. "Daddy, why do I poop?"

Needless to say, you've developed a keen sense sense of humor. Even funnier are the collisions I have with your learning curve, or perhaps my learning curve? Last week you tired of one of my lectures, stuck a finger in each nostril and said, "Daddy, I can't hear you!"

Hilarious mistake or calculated humor?

Love,

Dad

Pedestrianism

Cash & Dad’s First Year and a Quarter

I believe in evolution ... but it's perplexing. Take the eye. What is the halfway point to an eye, half an eyeball? To work, the eye seems to require, from the start, all the pieces in place.

Nonetheless, I see evidence of in-between states all the time. Cash, you happen to be proof-in-point. Racewalking, the half-state between running and walking, would be hard to imagine if it didn’t exist in its awkward form. Racewalking seems less an evolutionary step than an unnatural, man-made concoction between two natural states -- yet it turns out to be your most cutting edge from of transportation. You cannot run. Instead, you’ve evolved a fast forward shimmy, fists pumping, legs scissoring, knees snapping back in the inefficient pace of a racewalker!

I’ve taken to following you. I slink around, stalking your two foot high spiky hair as you bounce from curiosity to need, from your blue monkey to a hug from mama. More often than not, you are interested in whatever Luke is playing with, generally a truck or train. You particularly relish surprise assaults on Luke’s intricate train formations, quietly getting in position before hitting them hard. As the engines and cars rain down, Luke shrieks each of their names, “Thomas! Hank! Charles!” You finish the hit-and-run with something in-between.

Most of my attempts to tail you fail. You sense my presence. You accelerate giggling wildly. The chase is on and I transform into a heavy footed monster, pounding behind you. You screech with delight and we chase from the kitchen, into the foyer, to the dining room, into the living room and back into the kitchen -- a well worn loop we call the "Racing Track". With Luke frequently joining us, we go round and round crescendoing in a big tickling, screaming pileup!

These adventures leave me in awe of your self contained, independent mind and how you challenge your comfort zone daily. Your growing independence is sometimes a shock. “He is doing his own thing,” said Icland, your half-day nanny and frequent baby sitter a couple days ago. Responding to my confused look, she said, “Cash doesn’t need you all the time anymore. He’s entertaining himself!” Why did I feel like the young child reaching for his departing parent? The depended becomes the dependent.

Balancing these tether snapping events are your ever strengthening relationships, most particularly with Churchill. The dog, already hampered with identity issues (he pees without lifting his leg), now believes he is a horse. You routinely climb on top of him as if hopping into a saddle. You are the only person who plays fetch with him, though its a strange form of fetch. You give him ball only to scream as if he swiped it from you; then you take the item back, hold it, hand it back to him, and scream again! You have a strange relationship, like a marriage.

Your appearance has undergone quite a transformation. You are thin and tall versus most children your age. Your hair is electricution spiky and the darkness has dissolved away to blondness and a trace of red, a gift from Grangie. You have two upper front teeth and two teeth only. Our strawberry blond chipmunk!

Love,

Dad

Summer Roundup

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Cash's 1st and Luke's 3rd birthdays!
2) Long vacation in Boulder, CO where you guys met Melinda the rock star babysitter.
3) Daddy and mommy went to Rome without the kids!

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Brother Sport, Animal Collective, Merriweather Post Pavilion (released 200x)
2) M79, Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend (released 2008)
3) Get it On (Bang a Gong), The Power Station, The Power Station (released 1985)

Antipotty

Luke & Dad’s Third Year

In the face of innovation, many normal human activities become extinct over time. Some simply become unacceptable. Despite millions of years of good service, peeing outside is now ostracized. Fighting that genetic memory, however, is a colossal problem for Rachel and me. The only place you will “peeps” is the beautiful outdoors (which includes city sidewalk greenery).

The random slamming of our front door is the sign of nature calling in our home. It would be a testament to ancient excremental history if you maintained a similar practice with pooping. You don’t. With that category only a diaper will do; otherwise, you stick your finger in your butt and become monumentally constipated. Yes, you really do that.

A former partner of mine, Gene Riechers, once said, “Most of the world’s problems would be prevented if we required as much training to have children as we do to drive a car.” I once thought there was great wisdom in that comment. Now I see it as impractical. If anyone anticipated the process of potty training, we’d go extinct.

Thankfully, the delights of raising you eclipse the challenges! Nothing is more fulfilling than seeing the delight of a birthday boy! Happy third birthday Luke! Or, I should say, birthdays, plural. For days now the Beetles song “Birthday” has been ringing in my ears as Amazon boxes sent by loving family members have been piling up at our doorstep.

Once you catch site of the delivery man, we cannot wrench your mind from the mysterious boxes. You have to see what’s inside and, of course, we relent. You’ve become accustomed to opening a presents as they arrive. This pattern has led you to a simple conclusion: every day is Luke’s birthday. “Today’s Your Birthday!” echoes in my brain.

Every day being your birthday is a rather nice way to live life. However, Rachel and I have tired of wading through a snow drift of toys. So, Rachel delivered a rather devastating message to you recently: your birthday is over. You seemed stunned and you said, “Today’s not my birthday?!? ... today’s not my birthday … today’s not my birthday …” trailing off as it sunk in. Life’s tough man!

Our big present for your birthday was a "Thomas the Train" train set and a table which depicts the island of Sodor (Thomas’ home). Like most island residents, you don’t care much for storms and, unfortunately, the play room is hurricane prone. Cashy, the hurricane, can't be stopped just like his brethren in the Atlantic. So, you barter with him, giving him toys to distract him from your carefully orchestrated rail world. Your birthday has reintroduced the concept of negotiation into your life. The casual observer might conclude you are playing together, but we know better.

Still, your love for him shines through. At the MacArthur Post office, you shielded Cashy from the road as he dashed off the sidewalk. When we stayed in a cottage with the XXX’s on a beach in Maryland, you locked the doors to make sure Cashy wouldn’t fall down the steps. You’ve become our chief safety officer! You even demand everyone put on their seat belts when we get in the car.

Summer has taken hold here in Washington and you have graduated from Miss Smith’s toddler class at Aiden Montessori. This fall you are heading into Mrs. Antenucci’s kindergarten class. In preparation for thetransition, Rachel and I met with Miss Smith and Mrs. Antinucchi where I was roundly criticized for filling your head with images of hobbits, dwarves, dragons, elves, vampires, Woobops and other such, supposedly, imaginary creatures! I got three stern stares when I said, “You mean I should stop reading him Lord of the Rings?”

One last thing. I played you a sad song the other day. You listened. Then you cried. Don’t tell Mrs. Antonnuci.

Love,

Dad

Torpedo

Cash & Dad’s First Year

In most “guys” movies, the hero, on the precipice of conflict, has a pause, a flash of fight-or-flight. The gladiator eyes the tiger in the Coliseum, the quarterback stares into the teeth of the defense, an Admiral spots the wake of approaching torpedoes. Then comes the deep breath, the clenched jaw, and the decision. “Damn the torpedos, full speed ahead!” growled Admiral Farragut in 1864. That moment makes the man. (Actually, the torpedoes were mines in Farragut's case, but you get the point.)

You do not (yet) have the bulging pecks of a gladiator, but you face similar tests in our normally jolly house. Skirmishes erupt not over land or oil but rather … toys. These items, like most of your belongings, predate you as does the former owner who adheres strictly to “first dibs”. Despite being vastly outgunned, you always waddle into the fray for what you want. You choose fight!

Rachel, Luke, Churchy and I capped several months of your rocketing development with your First Birthday Party! Happy Birthday Cashy! We unveiled many “Cashy Only” toys and we celebrated the remarkable changes in you as well as the many Cashy characteristics that haven’t changed at all. You remain a sweet and warm child with a solidity derived of intelligence and, yes, courage.

Did I mention waddling? Oh yes, you waddle around like E.T. stumbling out of Elliott’s closet, arms in the air and screaming! I first witnessed you stand on May 24th, 2009 and shortly after that, on June 7th, you kamikazed across our MacArthur living room into my arms in what I would categorize as a “walk”. Here is the some video of that day:

Bringing up children is navigating one fear after another, some real, others planted unnecessarily by hearsay. It's bad enough that you sleep every night looking like you leapt off a four story building, face planted into your mattress, nose squashed, your butt in the air. But, on top of that, we heard it’s possible for a baby’s head to flatten from sleeping too much in one position. Babys’ skulls are malleable. So how are we going to keep your face from looking like a pancake?! I just remind myself that in parenting as in life there is a vast difference between what’s possible and what’s probable!

The subject of probabilities reminds me that your first words speak to the likelihood of something bad happening:

“Uh Oh!”

Not “Mommy” not “Daddy” but “Uh Oh!” I can’t believe it. I'm not sure how you came up with this. My theory is that your hands go where they aren’t supposed to be, and that we are too lazy to do anything beyond commenting, "Uh Oh!" The other possibility is that, like any good showman, you know suspense should be teed up. Another of your great exclamations drives the show home. You pick up your arms, lift your head, peer at your audience and scream, “Whhooooooaaaaaa!” It’s like you are saying, did you see that?! Waay coool! You did finally say "Da Da" on June 1st, 2009. Whooaa did I feel great.

One final note, you dig music like the rest of us. Interestingly, you've seemed to enjoy watching Luke bang on his drum. Imagine our shock when you picked up the drum sticks on June 21st, 2009 and started beating to the rhythm of Vampire Weekend!

Love,

Dad

Spring Roundup

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Vacation in Park City with Rick, the Kramers and Icland.
2) Luke rode his first horse at Rose Park in DC.
3) Alpine roller coaster ride!

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Brother Sport, Animal Collective, Merriweather Post Pavilion (released 200x)
2) M79, Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend (released 2008)
3) Get it On (Bang a Gong), The Power Station, The Power Station (released 1985)

Doing It

Luke & Dad’s Second Year and Three Quarters

When you were a baby, I anticipated the days where you’d start doing things yourself -- the vision of Rachel and I released from the routine tasks of raising you. I assumed Luke automation would mean extra time for us.

Wrong. The math doesn’t work that way. It turns out the driving force behind the “terrible” in the twos is captured in the phrase:

“I WANT TO DO IT!”

No phrase portends such vast inefficiencies.

Preparing you a bottle of milk takes me about 30 seconds. Watching you tip a gallon of milk precariously over a tiny plastic bottle (with a surprisingly good 50% success rate) doesn’t free me up; I’m the safety net. You take each step methodically, painstakingly. If I intervene in any way, I get a Lukanese tongue-lashing and you start all over again. Between your time, my time, the stress impact on my life expectancy, and the expected time value of the mistakes, it’s an order of magnitude longer!

You are a fiercely independent soul. Figuring things out on your own is a defining personality trait. Behind this is a deep curiosity in how things work. Take your new toy Jeep: you turn it over and over, your fingers surgical, exploring every crevice. You pull, twist and tug exposing secrets in the structure. You animate machinations repeatedly, slowly, your mind parsing every interaction and then putting them all back together. Your thoroughness is stunning, and watching you enraptured in these explorations is a fascinating.

Infuse this curiosity into a child fascinated by the heavy duty (the bigger, the better) and life gets interesting. Every car ride is a safari. A bright red dump truck generates such a gasp of awe from you I'd swear I’m in Kruger Park, Africa goggling elephants with your godfather Rick. Rhinos and leopards have nothing on backhoes and, my god, crane trucks!


Alongside your growing self reliance is a developing self consciousness. In an effort to steal a smile from you at Palisades Pizza on March 13th, 2009, I contrived tragedies like stubbing of toes (you think its funny when I "bonk" myself), making a fool of myself, when I saw you reining in a bursting smile. I was embarrassing you. “Daddy, go sit over there!” It is going to be fun to torture you.

I got a Valentine's card from you this year:

You also received your very first Valentin's card, from Henry XXXX in your class:

This quarter we went on vacation in Park City, Utah where we rented a house on the edge of the town. Rick and Thomas, Jessica & Matts came to visit us. Unfortunately, you were sick and, in that condition, you didn’t have patience for jackets. Getting you outdoors was a challenge.

Nonetheless, you and I had a blast at Park City Mountain where we rode the Alpine Coaster, a one car, miniature roller coaster. The car had brakes so we could control speed. We flew down the mountain, measuredly. It was hilarious listening to you boss me around: “Faster, Faaaster, FAAASTER … Stop, STOP, Daddy! STOOOOOOOP! … Faster, Faster, GO Daddy!”

By the way, your interest in music continues. You now want to create sounds as opposed to just listening. On February 20th, 2009, you and I bought some drum sticks at Middle C music store. I had an old bongo drum and you’ve been hammering on it ever since!

I also took you fishing at a National Park where, randomly, they also had some paint where we could paint the fish we didn't catch:

Love,

Dad

First Second

Cash & Dad’s Third Three Months

Cash you are our first second child, forever. Being the first second has significant advantages. Your parents are less likely to fumble you as experience reduces game time choking. You also have a larger fan base that includes an enthusiastic (though reluctant toy sharing) brother and an adoring (though smelly) golden retriever. Most importantly, the household has already adjusted to the shock of being, well, a family.

You see, becoming a parent is being plopped unceremoniously into a vast ocean of uncertainty. Or, I should say, back into that vast ocean. When I was young, I struggled to break free of family in a campaign to forge my own identity. I succeeded … only to find myself splashing around, flailing for a social beachhead, a place to belong. Eventually I grasped islands of friends, developed a craft to voyage, and learned to navigate life’s geography with a semblance of grace.

Then babies: Curplunk! Back in that ocean again. Having kids is realizing your hard won individuality is a plurality. You are soul-tied to your children and you see things through their eyes pulling your heart and mind into a frame of reference outside yourself -- a more exposed, less controlled, vexing yet exciting perspective! With the birth of a child, a parent is reborn, wet.

That’s why it’s so fun to go to birthday parties with you! Watching parents wrestle with the new psychology of shared identity with every spilled milk or thrown cake (“shared-personality-development-episodes”) is a ball. At XXXX Burnquist’s party on April X, 2009, you took a toy from XXX Kissel and promptly smacked him on the head. His father, Aaron Kissel, who up until that moment was a friend of mine, flashed with anger at me -- as if I’d hit him!

You see, Aaron’s boy was manhandled by you, a much younger and courageous CASH MACHINE! (Mom's nickname for you). I shouldn’t have enjoyed this, but I did. My little perpetrator showed initiative and, despite my better judgment, I loved it. Yes, yes, it’s a sick, sick thing and it’s funny. Good thing Rachel isn’t reading this.

You, our first second baby, are about relishing this madness. Indeed, the first second experience turns our prior child rearing tenants on their head. With Luke I couldn’t believe how complicated “it” was to maintain with the dirty diapers, bottles, feeding, pooping, etc. In your case, Cash, I can’t believe what an elegant machine you are. Just feed you a little milk and you keep humming!

Or keep demanding. As your birthday party behavior hints, you’ve expanded your behavioral spectrum beyond cool blue into the redder, more aggressive regions. You’ve started jabbering and you’ve learned the power of volume. Your voice remains deep for a baby, and while you don’t scream much, you are persistent. You let us know what you want: a toy, food, a break from Luke. What you hate most is being left out of the action which is challenging because, in our house, the human train moves perpetually from room to room.

It’s no surprise then that you picked up crawling early on January 29th, 2009. So far, your approach is entirely an upper body effort with your arms and chest propelling you along with your legs free riding. This style of locomotion evolved out of Luke’s impatience with your crawling progress and the fact we have slick hardwood floors. Luke took to pushing/sliding you around the house with his arms, so you got the general idea of arm propulsion but got no reference for the use of legs!

You are now eating solids and, unlike your brother, you are an absolute omnivore. You eat anything and everything in sight. On top of our copper table, fastened into your eating chair, you power through food like a tree shredder splattering food all over your face. With your food war paint, you sit like a fat, satiated warrior having consumed his kill. You are still 70th percentile in height, but, in some gross miscalculation, they say you are still 50th in weight!? Kids in the U.S. must be getting incredibly fat.

Love,

Dad

Winter Roundup

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Rachel and I had tickets with the Drants to go to Barak Hussein Obama’s inauguration on the National Mall, but instead watched it at Old Ebbitt Grill. Losers.
2) We celebrated Christmas in Atlanta with Grangie, Samantha & Rick.
3) You and I had a guy’s weekend in DC when Rachel & Cash went to Texas for a family get together.

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Brother Sport, Animal Collective, Merriweather Post Pavilion (released 2009)
2) M79, Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend (released 2008)
3) Surrender, U2, War (released 1983)

Creatures

Luke & Dad’s Second Year and a Half

The throng of besotted Jokers, drunken faeries and bloodied vampires was made further surreal by the trippy fluorescent lights of the emergency room. Moments earlier at home around 2 am, Rachel and I had woken to strangled hacking and choking. You couldn’t breathe. We ripped you out of bed and I dashed you to Georgetown University Hospital where the casualties of the town’s Halloween celebration gathered that Saturday night, November 1st, 2009, in a scene that would’ve inspired Tim Burton himself.

Croup was your nemesis and, like many scary things with children, it turned out to be common and easily treated. Sure, pediatricians suffer the repeated panics of the parents of first born, but, man, they need to hand out cheat sheets! Croup is damn scary and I should’ve been warned!

The doctors shot you up with a steroid, plopped us into a hospital bed, and gave us a tube contraption that spat out a steaming cloud of medicated vapor. You, of course, wouldn’t touch it. The machine appeared overly eager to suck your soul not unlike the random wandering clowns in the hallway. I explained that a giant, kind, blue dragon named Galadriel was blowing magic smoke into the tubes from deep in the hospital. You were amazed and proceeded to gasp down the steam between exclamations, “Dragon Smoke! Galadriel! Devastating!” This earned us stares from the nurses but by that time we were having fun despite the chaos of the night.

This experience fed two already overactive imaginations. I’m probably not doing any favors introducing creatures like Galadriel, Sprites, Vampires and another dragon named George that lives in our humidifier (he blows smoke too). I suppose I should be happy you haven’t plucked out your hair. Then again, the Wooobops were your idea, and you’ve taken to animating your toys into full fledged personalities. Most prominent is Mater, as in “To-mater without the Ta!” -- the bumbling blue tow truck from Pixar’s Cars. Your godfather Rick gave you Mater and he is a rather demanding member of the family.

Your toys have organized themselves into cliques. My favorite is your bedtime crew. Your day ends in a two book reading accompanied by a ba-ba serving, then we brush your teeth, turn out the lights, lie you down, and then … The Posse! Just after you enter your crib, you are joined by three characters. First is Elmo, your nearest and dearest friend, and he is placed on your left. Second comes KungFu Panda who you and I acquired at the National Zoo (after seeing a real Panda) and he is placed on your right. Finally, Baby Beluga joins who was a gift from your Aunt Samantha after hearing about your fascination with the graceful whales at the Atlanta Aquarium. He lies between you and KungFu Panda. After your posse is assembled and your thousand pacis are within reach, you get two blankets, aptly named "Blanket #1" and "Blanket #2", placed upon you in that order. I tuck the blankets around you and The Posse and you look like a chunky burrito when I kiss you goodnight.

Bedtime is fun when you are amenable, but my favorite activity is playing “tent”. The two of us jump into bed and throw a down comforter over our heads creating a cream lit world where everything falls away but you and me. A little insulation from the torrent of color in the world helps us focus. Today, your language is not mature enough to explain everything on your mind, so the tent allows us, without distraction, to patiently explore avenues of thought. I find treasures in the tent, phrases that pop out of your mind reinforcing how incredibly observant you are.

I couldn't find a better place than the tent for our quarterly interview:

I have a bonus interview this quarter done at Rick's house where we spent Christmas. I captured you impersonating a reindeer in this video:

While in Atlanta for Christmas, we went on your very first roller coaster ride called "The Pink Pig." It's a famous coaster for children that used to be housed at the Macy's in downtown Atlanta but is now housed in Lenox Square on Christmas. Here is your ticket for eternity:


Before I sign off, I must mention your continued fascination with music. You’ve taken to singing and you’ll grab your partially strung toy guitar, sling the base over your shoulder violin-style, and strum it while singing “My summer giiiril!” with Beck. I can’t bring myself to correct your guitar posture because I think you like the sound close to your head. At least you play the harmonica normally. You also have some abstract painting talent:


Unfortunately, your musical genius carries with it a disease common to the Weller family. You have extremely little patience with songs you don’t like, tantrum style lack of patience, and, much to Rachel’s chagrin, you like songs LOUD and you've figured out how the volume knob on the stereo works! When you do like a song, the house quakes!

Ik hous van jou,

Dad

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Rachel and I had tickets with the Drants to go to Barak Hussein Obama’s inauguration on the National Mall, but instead watched it at Old Ebbitt Grill. Losers.
2) We celebrated Christmas in Atlanta with Grangie, Samantha & Rick.
3) You and I had a guy’s weekend in DC when Rachel & Cash went to Texas for a family get together.

Luke’s most requested song:

Blake’s Got a New Face, Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend (released 2008)

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Brother Sport, Animal Collective, Merriweather Post Pavilion (released 2009)
2) M79, Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend (released 2008)
3) Surrender, U2, War (released 1983)

Roly-Poly

Cash & Dad’s Second Three Months

Life as your mom, my Rachel, has been interesting these days. Imagine drinking coffee at an outdoor café in Georgetown when a gaggle of Hell’s Angels approach, leering at your baby. Just as you clench defensively, one says with a smile, “that’s a knockout baby!” As you push a baby carriage through Lenox mall in Atlanta, you notice your baby staring behind you giggling. You swivel glimpsing a guy in full hip-hop regalia parading for your baby. He leans over the carriage unveiling a golden grill of smiling teeth. “He’s got as much bling as me!”

We’ve been charmed with a baby that enraptures strangers. Your smile belays your temperament and it takes hold of your face upon eye contact spreading quickly to the point of overwhelming you. It's infectious. You naturally to engage people and draw them in. Nothing is more flattering than a baby's attention!

You graduated from infant to baby -- from an expelled, wrinkled creature of womb-world to a fat, bouncing, earthbound, cute-bucket. You’ve adapted creatively. For example, you’ve taken rolling over, a basic developmental step for a baby, and elevated it to a form of transportation. If you want something, you will roll across the whole damn room if you have to. We watch our feet.

You’re appearance has matured. Your head, formerly bare on both sides parted by a Mohawk, is now fully fuzzed red-brown, but pointy at the top. Your onion head is punctuated by two large, dark blue eyes. You are now in the 90th percentile in height and 50th in weight though you are solid, like a bag full of marbles (padded in the middle and on the bottom). My shoulder is sore from carrying your around.

Your delightful presence comes with work. A recurring theme with Weller children is resistance to sleeping patterns. Only recently have we been able to improve upon three to five wakeups per night with Rachel taking the brunt of the workload, sacrificing herself so I can function at work. You and Luke have adjoining rooms so crying fits bounce into competitive screeching crescendos. Sometimes Churchill, your smelly golden retriever, is the only chipper creature in the morning.

You took your first major trip this quarter to Atlanta to celebrate Christmas. You, Rachel, Luke and I visited Grangie, Samantha, and Rick. We crashed at Rick’s house near Lenox mall. He was nice enough to lend us his place while he stayed at his girlfriend Samantha’s place. We celebrated Christmas at Samantha’s apartment and spent Christmas dinner at a hip Chinese restaurant called Aja in Buckhead. It turns out you and Luke don’t care for dark, hip restaurants as the two of you raised hell the entire time, neither happy with the local or the company apparently!

Speaking of Luke, he continues to adore you. While he hasn’t mastered the idea of sharing his toys, it’s fun to watch the two of you in the back of Rachel’s blue Toyota FJ Cruiser in baby seats side-by-side. Luke will mimic your baby talk earning a great big smile from you, and then the two of you will feed off one another’s giggles until breaking down into hilarity. Your delight in one another and witnessing the two of you interact spontaneously is a beautiful thing to watch.

Here is our quarterly interview:



Volim te,

Dad

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Your first Christmas with Grangie, Samantha & Rick in Atlanta.
2) Grangie moved into her new condo in Buckhead.
3) Barak Hussein Obama wins the presidential election.

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) M79, Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend (released 2008)
2) Just Dance, Lady GaGa, The Fame (released 2008)
3) Marching Bands of Manhattan, Death Cab for Cutie, Plans (released 2005)

Fall Roundup

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Your first day of school!
2) Rachel ran a half marathon in Moab, UT and you and I had a boys’ weekend with Grangie.
3) We went to Hilton Head Island, SC for vacation.


Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Marching Bands of Manhattan, Death Cab for Cutie, Plans (released 2005)
2) New Slang, Oh, Inverted World, The Shins (released 2001)
3) Kiss Me, Sixpence None the Richer, Sixpence None the Richer (released 1997)

My Tantri Two

Luke & Dad’s Second Year and A Quarter

Feeding chocolate cake to a herd of terrible twos is igniting a batch of bottle rockets inside your home. Sugar in these monsters is as dizzying as a college keg party on acid. Nonetheless, the occasion of your second birthday demanded that we cast down the chains of routine infant rearing and, damn the torpedoes, throw your birthday party, cake and all!!

We knew you liked parties because we took you to a German Oktoberfest celebration and nearly every evening afterwards you inquired: “Oktoberfest?!” So, Rachel and I now have the distinction of throwing your first party, birthday or otherwise. No matter how crazy the parties of your future, it all started with a bunch of shrimps and their parents on August 2nd, 2008 at the MacArthur house. Jack, Emily & Tom Grossi; Matts, Jessica & Thomas Kramer; Jamie, Melissa & Mark Bildner; Grady, Annie & Eric Burnquist; Rowan, Charis & Ryan Drant; Ryan, Ronda & Tom Williams; joined Rachel, Cashy, Keara, Churchill and me at your first fiesta.

You loved the Birthday festivities but your main takeaway was the power of “presents.” These mysterious boxes contained treats of all kinds. However, you quickly figured out that presents could transformed into something far more useful: negotiating tools for the unpleasant tasks in your life. Here is a typical case study. After sniffing soiled air I say, “Luke, you did a poop. Time to change your dipes!” You make a break for it and I make the inevitable capture dodging kicks, screams and fake tears when, suddenly, sweetly, you say, “Can I have a present?”

Admittedly, your dad also liked parties at two years old:

If Birthdays number the early chapters of your life, memories of school will fill those chapters. Rachel and I dropped you off at your first day of school on September 17th, 2008 at Aiden Montessori in Washington, DC. I’ll never forget watching as you as the teacher’s assistant, Ms. Allen, grabbed your hand and turned you away from us, guiding you into your very first class room. I stared at the back of your blond head wondering if you could possibly feel more lost than me.

I doubt it. You love school. Your teacher’s name is Ms. Smith, “Miss Smiff” in Lukanese. She is the perfect teacher for you; a twenty-something redheaded “Annie” who looks at any moment about to break into song. Under her guidance, you love painting, drawing, and playing with water (apparently this is a common interest for two year olds). She says you are incredibly focused and very nimble with your hands, a potential surgeon! Ms. Smith says you have empathy, that you try and comfort the other children when they are upset. You are like your mom.

Like me you are psyched about Halloween! We did our first trick-or-treating excursion this year with Rowan the Fireman and Jack the Builder. You were supposed to be a Pirate, but you refused to wear your pirate hate until I showed you a mirror. One glance and you transformed into a fierce, hat wearing Pirate stabbing your sword at the Builder at every opportunity.

You guys were hilarious swaggering up to houses, squeezing past one another to reach up to door bells, needing to be reminded to say “trick-or-treat!” before grabbing candy. As Rachel put you to sleep that night, you asked if you could go trick-or-treating again. Rachel said you could next year. Then you said, “Can Cashy come?”

You and Cashy have become quite a pair. You've adopted a new language for Cash taking some of his baby sounds and creating words: "Iga!" "Shaaa!" "Ca Ca!" Peering into the back seat of the Toyota cruiser I often glimpse you and Cashy sitting side by side in baby seats staring at one another. You test your mimicry words on Cash. Cash will smile, you will smile; Cash will giggle, you will giggle; Cash will laugh out loud and so will you. Brothers.

Halloween summons other creepy and crawly things and this season the Weller brood has been exorcising a nasty species of Wooobop from our household: a Tantri. As a refresher, Wooobops are fat, friendly, colorful, gently mischievous monsters that reside in less populated areas like closets, attics, basements and exercise rooms. However, the Tantri is a vicious Wooobop that victimizes young children all over the world by taking possession of their minds. These vaporous, ghostly creatures hunger for form and a child’s budding mind has few barriers. Once there, the Tantri wants everything, refuses anything, and will throw wild, head banging, screaming, fits. These fits are known as Tantrums and the disease is the Terrible Twos.

A Tantri, above all, needs attention to feed it. If you have a tantrum lying on the floor of the kitchen kicking and yelling, I will often ignore you and move to the living room. Your tantri will pick you up sniffling, walk you into the living room, lay you down, and reinitiate kicking and screaming all over again. Sometimes a little Luke will pop out during a tantrum like the time Rachel was trying to read “I Stink” to calm a loud tantrum. Suddenly, you abruptly stopped, finished a sentence exactly on queue, “You'd be on Mount Trash-O-Rama Baby!” and then thundered on.

This month we did our quarterly interview and it pretty much melted down. You thought hiding from the camera was the height of comedy!

A couple days after that video, I caught you playing with my computer camera. Needless to say, you loved yourself!

I'd also like to show you some of your recent art work. Though I haven't gotten hold of your school paintings yet, I do capture some of your art at home. Here is a nice piece:


të dua,

Dad

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Your first day of school!
2) Rachel ran a half marathon in Moab, UT and you and I had a boys’ weekend with Grangie.
3) We went to Hilton Head Island, SC for vacation.

Luke's most requested song:

Girl, Beck, Guero (released 2005)

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Marching Bands of Manhattan, Death Cab for Cutie, Plans (released 2005)
2) New Slang, Oh, Inverted World, The Shins (released 2001)
3) Kiss Me, Sixpence None the Richer, Sixpence None the Richer (released 1997)

Ice Ice Baby

Cash & Dad’s First Three Months

You’d think the alien battleship in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” was going to arrive at 5360 MacArthur not a newborn. Terribly edgy times pervaded the Weller household in the final weeks leading to your birth. We were convinced you were going to arrive early. You didn’t. The due date passed with apprehension compounding each passing day.

We worried about your health, labor, colic, Luke’s reaction, our lifestyle, the complexities of two kids, and, most of all, the pregnancy’s impact on Rachel’s figure! (US Magazine didn’t help by setting unrealistic expectations showing stars shedding baby fat in weeks.) If you got too big, how were we going to get you out! The final stretch of Rachel’s pregnancy was being stuck outside on a searing hot, humid day. We were tired, uncomfortable, irritable, and, well, like you, stuck.

Then, like a blast of cool air, you arrived! Truthfully, we got impatient and you were induced into this world on Tuesday, June 24th 2008. You plopped out at 5:09 pm at Sibley Hospital in Washington, DC. You weighed 8 pounds 5 ounces and arrived with a full head of black curly hair. All our worries blew away!


From that moment, Cash, you have been an incredibly chill baby, mellow almost, quite the opposite of your brother at this age! Your overall presence is that of a thoughtful observer. You are no push over. When you want something, you are insistent, loud, but not frantic. You’ve got a deep voice as infants go and you chatter to yourself after a big meal. Yes, thank god, you are an easy baby, laid back and sharp.

As far as looks go, well, most babies are lollipops; you are milk chocolate. Dark hair, blue eyes and square head, you warm the eyes. You are simply handsome and you are going to be trouble with the ladies. As far as height, you measure in at the 70th percentile, and weight, the 50th percentile though I suspect you are growing quickly past the average.

Your most powerful feature is your smile. You first smiled to me on September 12th, 2008. The smile opened up wide, mouth open, like you were gulping the positive vibes around you. You made a noise, a sort of exclamation, of happiness as you held me in your eyes. The moment captured me totally pushing all thoughts aside – you shared a moment of pure, uncontaminated joy, and it gripped me. I was so thankful, so “I’m sooo there with you man!”

Your arrival has revealed facets of Weller family personalities that until now haven’t been exposed. Your big brother Luke has surprised us most. Prior to your arrival, Rachel and I heard horror stories about sibling jealousy. Hell, I was a devil when Vanessa arrived so I feared Luke would react similarly. We couldn’t have been more wrong.

Luke is your biggest fan. He simply loves you and that caring was clear immediately. Every morning we wake up to these exclamations: “Cash is my friend!” “What a good brother!” “Want to see Cash!” He loves hugging you, petting you, delivering Eskimo kisses nose to nose.

These activities are delivered with a giant’s touch; the huggings are muggings, the pettings clubbings, and the Eskimo kisses are face plants. But, the enthusiasm is rampant … possibly too rampant. Luke, “the department of helping too much,” smothers you in his effort to hold you and he often attempts carrying you to his next play spot! Yikes! We have to keep an eye on him needless to say.

Cash, you’ve rewarded Luke’s attention with your very first smiles. You watch him constantly; your eyes follow him everywhere. You don’t cry when he manhandles, pets/clubs, or faceplants you. You seem rather delighted. Rachel and I feel terribly lucky (so far).

Every quarter I'm going to interview you for two minutes. Here is our first in depth interchange!

Love,

Dad

Summer Roundup

Top three household events this quarter:

1) Your brother Cash Henry Weller is born!
2) Grangie, Vanessa, Grandman & Grandpa Moore all came to visit.
3) Vanessa received her masters at NYU in digital animation.

Three Songs I’ve been listening to:

1) Jiggy with It, Phish, Hampton Comes Alive (released 1999)
2) Viva la Vida, Coldplay, Viva la Vida (released 2008)
3) Unchained, Van Halen, Fair Warning (released 1981)

So Proud

Luke & Dad’s (Almost) Second Year

I’m posting this blog on Tuesday, July 29^th one day before your birthday. Your birthday deserves its own celebration so we will wait because another significant event in your life has taken place …

You’ve got a new baby brother!

Cash Henry Weller was born on Tuesday, June 24^th 2008 around 5 pm at Sibley Hospital in Washington, DC. He weighed 8 pounds 5 ounces and arrived with a full head of black curly hair and nice olive skin. If he hadn't come equipped with a long index toe, I would’ve asked for a DNA test.

I brought you to Sibley Hospital the next day, Wednesday, June 25^th, to visit Rachel and your brother, the later for the very first time. You knew something was a foot. We entered the red brick hospital and you were curious, so piqued that you didn’t run screaming at the sight of nurses (shots).

We entered a crowded room filled with visitors including Ryan and Charis Drant. When I finally shuffled you close enough to look at Cash, you didn’t say much. You looked contemplative. That lasted a few seconds as if you thought, “interesting … ok … but why are you still holding me over this thing?” Any further attempts to show you Cash resulted in, “Don’t want it!”

The arrival of a new sibling can be a cataclysmic event for a first-born two year old. It’s that startling discovery that the world doesn’t rotate around you alone! Heck, an entire society couldn’t accept Galileo’s observation that earth was not the center of the universe. Why should we expect more of a child?

As usual, I am saying more about me than you. When I realized Vanessa wasn’t just visiting, I dedicated several years to crushing her. Ask Grandpa Weller about “the Cookie Monster Puppet Attack” he captured on film. Let’s just say I tried to blame the puppet.

So your life, like ours, has changed dramatically. Instead of playing in mom’s lap, you watch Cash breast feeding. Instead of you and me going to breakfast on Saturday morning, you eat eggs quietly while I soothe Cash. Instead of visiting the zoo with mom, you play by yourself in the kitchen.

That’s why I’m so incredibly proud, PROUD of you. You've welcomed your brother in the face of a million reasons not to. The changes have stressed you with painful moments that show at times -- sadness for no reason, tears without provocation -- but you treat Cash with love and deep interest. You huge him, give him Eskimo kisses, and shout, "such a good bruder!" We’ve seen a grace, a true beauty in you we’ve never seen before and it makes us so terribly proud to know you.

Stepping out of the ray of sunshine, life continues as does your development. Most entertaining to me is your relationship with music. You recognize songs and artists. If “Teenage Wasteland” is playing, you scream “Da Whoooo!" This behavior has evolved to incorporate some creativity and therefore unpredictability on your part. For instance, at Rowan Drant’s crowded birthday party, Coolio's “Gangsta’s Paradise” reverberated. Out of nowhere you shouted,

“Barak Obama!"

(I have no idea where that come from. Charis Drant is a huge backer of Obama. Just shoot me.)

Our favorite song right now is “Jiggy With It” by Phish, or “Jiggy For It” in Lukanese (interesting preposition twist). We’ve taken to dancing together to it.

Speaking of creativity, one afternoon you randomly started referring to “Wooobops” as if they were running around the house. I was confused and a little concerned. I decided we should draw a Wooobop collaboratively to try and identify this mysterious noun. While tangling over who should pilot the crayons, we drew wacky creatures, eliminated inanimate objects, and finally discovered Wooobops: silly, colorful, comfortable monsters. I still don't know where they came from, but I like them too. May I introduce you to Wooobops:

One morning working out, I made the mistake of pointing out your shadow. You screamed bloody murder. The dark specter was following you everywhere! AAAaaaaaah! Of course, I couldn’t eradicate this beast. (I experienced one of those "why do I do this to myself" moments.) So I claimed the shadows were Wooobops. It took some convincing, but now it’s amusing to see you give Eskimo kisses, nose to the floor, to your Wooobop.

You are now making attempts at counting and you generally know your ABC’s. You can see this progress in our quarterly interview!

One final note, your aunt Vanessa received her masters from NYU in digital animation this quarter. We are so, so proud of her! Here is a sampling of her work:

Ana Behibak,

Dad