2 and a half

Audrey's first adventure on a tube

Ice rink

Today is the first day of summer so naturally we're talking about ice rinks. Or, their closest substitute.

We were in the backyard eating dinner and fighting off mosquitoes when Audrey exclaimed from the kitchen that Grace had dumped her bottle of Bubble Oodles on the hardwood floor. No big deal, I thought at first, hoping she didn't dump all of it. But when I heard a panicky cry and ran into the house, there was Grace, wriggling around in a massive pool of bubble solution. She struggled to stand up, like a newborn foal unable to get her footing. The surface was as slick as ice, and each time she tried to get up she fell again and cried harder.

I picked her up just as Audrey decided it looked like fun. She ran into the slick and immediately lost her footing and crashed to the floor. I expected tears but she laughed instead, getting up and trying to slide on her feet but then crashing again. It had to hurt and her head narrowly missed the corner of a drawer that protruded from the side. I demanded that she stop. The last thing I needed was a trip to the hospital with two little girls who had cracked their heads open.

I set Grace down to grab Audrey but Grace immediately ran back to the slippery mess, ostensibly forgetting the trauma she experienced moments earlier. Thump! Back on the floor. Both girls were covered in dribbling, gooey bubble solution by now. Think slightly runnier slime from Ghostbusters. If I didn't stop it all soon the encroaching solution would have me going down next.

My wife volunteered to take them for a bath since it was bath night anyway, which alleviated things - I was able to wipe Grace off enough where she could walk on dry flooring while Suzanne took Audrey upstairs. I followed, plopping Grace down in the bathroom so that I could return downstairs to clean up the mess.

You'd think the floor would be shiny after the cleanup but instead it has a dull, slightly sticky film on it. It will need a good mopping. 

No more ice rinks in the house.

Goldendoodle

Some of my friends have been congratulating me on the new child puppy we got last week. Yes, I finally buckled under the pressure of two little girls (and a wife) who for some time have insisted on having a canine companion in our household. So now we have one - his name is Barry and he's a Goldendoodle.

For the unenlightened, Goldendoodles are mixes between Golden Retrievers and standard Poodles. But there's more to it than that - there are F1, F1b and F2 Goldendoodles. Barry is the first kind which means he's a direct cross between a Golden and a Poodle. The latter two kinds are a cross between a Goldendoodle and a Poodle, and between two Goldendoodles, respectively. Seems to me there ought to be a fourth, which is a cross between a Goldendoodle and a Golden. Maybe there's just not enough 'doodle' in that combo to make it work - I don't know.

I've found all kinds of stuff online about how Goldendoodles (and Labradoodles, too) are nothing but 'glorified mutts' - on the one hand that's fine with me because a mix has a healthier set of genes than a purebred does, but here's the truth - all purebred lines (with the exception of the Maltese) originated from a fairly narrow population of 'village dogs' who hung around towns in East Asia (or Northern Africa, depending on which pool of research you believe) years ago. Over time, people developed certain lines of dogs from this gene pool for a specific purpose, such as to do specific kinds of work. These lines then attained legitimacy by being 'recognized' by organizations like the American Kennel Club - but they were all mutts to begin with. Regardless, it's all just chromosomes, so long as you love your pup. 

So far Barry has lived up to the hype around the Goldendoodle - no shedding, smart, trainable, good with kids, pleasant to be around, and of course, cute and fuzzy. Oh - he also poops and pees on the floor of our house but, then, so do all puppies.

Even Barry's vet was surprised at how easy-going he is, especially for a young dog. Having had a high-strung Golden Retriever growing up, I'd say Barry's mellowness comes from the Poodle in him. But a neighbor who came by believes the opposite is true. In the end, mixed-breed dogs are like a box of chocolates - you never quite know what you're going to get. I, for one, think we got a bit lucky.

Audrey and Grace, of course, love him, and love to mess with him too. We're teaching Audrey not to use his tail as a leash and Grace not to lay across him while he naps, for example. Sometimes I wonder whether Barry, when he gets stalked by Grace with a big grin on her face, feels the same way pedestrians did when the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man threatened to squish them in Ghostbusters. But we're also teaching Barry not to eat Audrey's Cinderella shoes or try to snatch Grace's pacifier from her mouth.

Oh - and with two little girls helping out with the naming, you've got to expect something strange. His full name? Straw'Barry' Snorklin Duke. You can't make this stuff up.

Boats and livestock

Ideas for things to do with kids on a weekend:

1. Regional Boat Show

2. National Western Stock Show

At the boat show it was just me and Audrey. Though it was in the Convention Center in January you might as well have been at the beach. There were enough Hawaiian shirts, flip flops, umbrellas, palm trees and drink stands, not to mention all the boats, to make it feel that way. And we got to learn cool stuff like the following:

 

I colored that one for Gracie. Audrey did one too, and we have the pictures on 2 t-shirts. Good thing too - that bit of knowledge will probably save us next time we go boating. 

In all seriousness, there was so much stuff for kids to do at the boat show that I'm sure Audrey had more fun than I did. Just climbing into, around and upon a bunch of boats would have done it but they had so much more.

And then today was the National Western Stock Show. I haven't been to something like that in a long time. It was me, Suzanne, Audrey and Grace and was hectic but fun. By hectic I mean too crowded to walk by yourself through a crowd, let alone with a stroller. There was a moment when I was pushing the girls in ours (and it's a "double-wide," as one cowboy called it at the show) through a crowd and there were literally so many people trying to go every which way that I just stopped and figured I'd be stuck there forever. It was gridlock.

By fun I mean that there is an entire complex - far too big to really get all the way through in one visit - with everything from face painting and games to a petting zoo to a climbing wall to every kind of retail you can imagine. Naturally Audrey wanted her face painted twice - once on each cheek - and I have to say the artists there did the best face painting I've ever seen. We were told they fly in from Texas each year to do the show and by the looks of the line all afternoon, they make a killing.

Then of course there was the main event - the rodeo - which Suzanne and I looked forward to but we figured the girls would last about 5 minutes. Thank goodness we were wrong - I'd say they made it for an hour and a half before Grace really broke down and we were forced to leave. 

Although at the beginning, during the opening to the show, I thought we might have to leave too. I caught on video the final moments of the kick-off and I think it nearly scared Grace straight through the roof. She was terrified, and Audrey wasn't too happy either. Not to mention the heart attack I almost had. 

The video is sideways because I'm not smart enough to use my new phone correctly but you'll know what I mean when you get to 0:22. Keep in mind you're watching it on video - if you were live multiply the sound by 100.

Estes Park

Every once in awhile my wife takes Audrey and Grace up to Estes Park to see Grammy. Like today. It is a special place to Suzanne because she spent time there growing up and her family has lots of roots there. Not to mention it is beautiful. This is what you get see when you drive there from Boulder.

Sanitas Trail

My girls continuously surprise me. But then sometimes they really surprise me. Like on Sunday. Audrey and I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood when I suggested we go up the hill and cross 4th Street to the base of Sanitas Trail. (The city of Boulder literally abuts the mountains.) Despite its proximity Audrey and I had only walked up there once before because somehow she became scared of trails. Her stated reason was that they moved, seemingly likening the ascending path of dirt and rocks to some sort of scary escalator. Whatever the case was, she felt more adventurous on Sunday.

My suggestion to walk to the trail was greeted with a smile and a "Sure, Daddy." And when we got to the trailhead Audrey didn't mention anything about it moving any which way. In fact when we spotted some people higher up the mountain she was much more interested in how they had gotten up there. I explained that the way there was the path in front of us.

The trail remains wide and the incline gradual for the first several hundred yards so, seemingly bored, Audrey thought we should instead scale the steep incline of grass, weeds, shrubs and rocks to get to the top. I told her to go for it but, walking to the edge of the trail, she looked up and decided against it. Baby steps first. 

When the trail got steeper, narrower and rockier I turned to her and asked if she'd like to go back? "Nooo!" she replied. "I want to go up!" I paused, surprised, but took her hand and we kept walking.

"Make sure to hold Daddy's hand," I told her. "I don't want you to slip and fall." That wasn't her idea of fun but I told her we weren't going anywhere unless she agreed.

Further up I asked her again if she wanted to turn around. "No, Daddy, I want to go to the top!" she said with resolve. To hear my 3-year-old insist on this was strange but we kept moving... We had brought an apple along and she munched on it as we walked, fruit in one hand and my hand in the other. (She dropped the apple more than a few times but in each case brushed it off and kept eating.) In my other hand was a slightly wilted purple flower Audrey had found in the neighborhood as we left the house that she insisted I carry.

The trail had gotten much steeper and the drop-off to our left could easily give someone a bit of vertigo. Sanitas Trail is well traveled but you've still got to watch your step. But Audrey kept going, distracted by the rocks and the bushes and asking me a million questions about everything as we hiked.

At last we approached a rocky section taller than she was and I was compelled to pick her up. To be able to climb it myself while carrying her, I had to put the purple flower down. Pointing to it I told her, "Don't let me forget this when we come back, okay?" The trail remained tricky for a bit afterward so I continued to carry her despite her wanting to be put down. (Had she been hiking before?)

It was a hazy day - cool for August - and I noticed dark clouds in the distance. Suddenly nervous I'd be carrying a 3-year-old on a narrow, rocky trail in the rain, I suggested we head down. Audrey's response? "I want to go to the top, Daddy. Up there. See?" She pointed and we were actually almost there. What could I say? Some other (older) kids and their parents looked down from the summit.

We crossed through a narrow jungle-like section, wrapped around to the right and suddenly the trail opened up into a broad field. We had made it! The wind was blowing harder up there and the dark clouds were closer. Other trails stretched to the north and south of us and a group of hikers disappeared in the distance.

"Let's play up here, Daddy!" exclaimed Audrey, but I had to say no this time. "We have to go down, otherwise we're going to get stuck in the weather," I replied. "See those clouds?" Trying to gain time I picked her up and carried her all the way down to the steep rocky section we had encountered before. Unable to climb down it with her I sat her down, climbed down it myself and then reached up to grab her. As soon as I did she said, "Loooook, Daddy, our purple flower!" I had already forgotten about it but there it was, just like we left it. "Can you put me down now?" she asked. I pointed to a curve in the trail below where it became less rocky. "Right down there I'll put you down," I said.

No sooner had I put her down than she wanted to rest. I humored her for a minute as she sat down on a rock but then reminded myself of the clouds. "We've got to keep going, Audrey. We're almost down." 

Once the trail flattened out she started to walk fast. "Don't trip," I warned her. "We're still on a mountain." She actually stumbled a few times and thought it was funny. After dropping her apple again and trying to take a bite full of dirt, I grabbed the half-eaten fruit and suggested we get a new one at the house.

Just as we crossed onto the streets of Boulder the rain started to fall. Perfect timing. As we walked back to the house I told her how impressed I was. "That was your first real hike!" I said. But she was focused on picking another flower - a white one this time. "Let's get home before it really rains," I suggested. "Daddy, can you carry me? I need to rest again." Like I said, perfect timing. 

Life jackets

Can they make kids life jackets any bulkier? We took Audrey and Grace boating the other weekend and the poor girls can barely move when they've got those things on. They need to have them on, no question about it - but couldn't theirs be more like mine? 

I wear a close-fitting vest that conforms to my body and is roughly half or a third of the thickness of theirs. It keeps me afloat just fine. Grace's, on the other hand, is designed as if they stuffed massive chunks of styrofoam in between nylon material and sewed some straps on it. When she's got it on she looks a bit like the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man. And because she can barely move when she's got it on, she cries, which doesn't exactly teach her to like being around water. 

Audrey's is in-between but is still bulky and rides up under her cheeks despite the strap that runs underneath her from the front of her torso to the back. She is none-too-pleased to wear hers either and is constantly trying to finagle her way out of having to put it on.

Is there room to innovate here? 

Swim meet

I swam growing up and I'd forgotten how hectic swim meets can be. We attended our niece Jane's state swim meet last Saturday and it's a whirlwind. Throngs of under-14 swimmers milling back and forth, coaches' tables lining all sides of the pool and parents and other event-goers hurriedly making their way somewhere. The pool deck is so narrow on three sides it's a wonder nobody get shoved into the pool occasionally.

Then there's the schedule. Swimming is pure dedication. Jane swam Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and on Saturday and Sunday, at least, she had to be at the pool by 6am. She swam several events each morning and then had 4+ hours of downtime before swimming more events in the late afternoon/early evening. Meets are that way throughout the season and the season pretty much lasts all year. It's no wonder Michael Phelps occasionally (and foolishly) displays a wild side - he's always swimming.

Jane is a great swimmer and comes from a long line of them, including her dad who nearly qualified for the Olympics a couple decades ago and her aunt (my wife) who was quite the swimmer growing up. Jane is a distance swimmer which means races longer than 200 meters or so.

Audrey and Grace attended of course - it was their first swim meet. Everything remains so new for Grace that she just stares wide-eyed at everything she sees. Audrey loved seeing Jane but found the pool area, with its tile walls and floors amplifying the continuous roar of the onlookers, coaches and swimmers, a bit loud. So she plugged her ears while she watched.

(The ear plugging thing has become common around loud noises. During the last 4th of July Audrey plugged her ears during the entire fireworks show. A month or so ago we took her to an event where a brass band provided the entertainment - our front row table meant her ears would remain plugged the whole time. The one time she doesn't plug her ears, in fact, is when she's the one making the loud noise. Then it's Daddy plugging his ears.)

In any case, Audrey was bummed when we had to leave the swim meet and Jane had to stay to swim some more. My wife and I left contemplating whether we've got what it takes to raise a kid who's got the schedule of a swimmer. Audrey says she's contemplating it but I think she's a bit wary of the water. Right now it's all about seeing her older cousin Jane.

Planetarium

Poor Audrey. First the aquarium, which she didn't much like because of the big scary fish, and then the museum of natural history, where the menacing skeletons of dead dinosaurs lurked at every exhibit. Such was the case yesterday as we took her and Grace on a family outing to enjoy the summer-like March weather. 

Actually, I wasn't being truthful above - the dinosaurs didn't bother her (much), it was the planetarium. You know - the dome-shaped venue where lasers and lights and pictures are projected above you in larger-than-life fashion alongside a soundtrack.

The show seemed innocuous enough - it's about a group of wacky space characters who take kids on a journey across the universe to teach them about science and astronomy. But I could tell Audrey was uneasy when we sat down. She nervously looked around the cavernous room, suddenly seeming too small for the big chair she was sitting in. People filed into the rows. Usually gregarious, Audrey didn't want to talk to the little girl behind her who was trying to say hi.

Then the lights dimmed. The music played and a cartoon spaceship appeared on the screen, zipping about. Smiling aliens danced around. And Audrey froze. She was mortified. When the spaceship flew toward us, giving the sensation it was about to careen into the audience, she shrieked in terror and jumped into my lap. I buried her head on my chest, telling her she'd get used to it.

No such luck. She looked up again and started crying. And then shaking. Time to leave. Fortunately we had picked the middle seats in the middle row so that we could be as disruptive as possible as we left. As we reached the top of the aisle the attendant smiled knowingly. "Perhaps she'd be more comfortable watching it from the top?" she asked. I turned Audrey's head around but she practically leapt for the door. "Nope, but thanks," I replied.

As we consoled Audrey my wife and I looked at each other. We had actually been looking forward to the show. And Grace, being 5 months old and all, kept twisting her head around to watch it. She probably didn't know to be scared. Innocence is bliss, I guess.

Maybe when Audrey is 3 we'll go back. She keeps on telling us that 3-year-olds are practically adults and can do anything. Maybe we'll test that at the amusement park this summer.

Aquarium

Audrey and Grace paid a visit to the aquarium this weekend. We figured they would get a kick out of it plus we've been wanting to see how well a landlocked place like Denver can put together an ocean exhibit.

On the latter I would say it's not bad. It's not as big as the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago and it doesn't have the ambiance of the Monterey Bay Aquarium in California but it has all the elements of a real aquarium. Except maybe an elevator that is big enough for more than two strollers at at time - it wasn't crowded while we were there but if it was that elevator would have been a real bottleneck.

As far as the girls were concerned, Grace, being 3 months old, didn't care much one way or the other, and Audrey, to our dismay, didn't much like it. It may have been the giant snapping turtle staring us in our faces as we walked in that teed her up to be frightened, but the endless array of large fish staring at us blankly with one eye from behind thick glass pretty much creeped her out. And the "underwater" tunnels and rainforest area with simulated lightning and thunder didn't help.

Near the end, however, we found a tank that was more Audrey's speed. The moment she saw the colorful coral and multicolored fish she ran over with a sense of familiarity. "Dory!" she yelled. Sure enough, there was a blue fish that looked just like Dory from Finding Nemo. "Nemo!" she exclaimed with even more excitement. There was a Nemo look-a-like too, swimming right in front of me. And "Nemo" was even swimming next to a fish that looked like Marlin, his dad. Audrey was clearly relieved to see some familiar faces so we spent a good amount of time examining this fish tank. Fortunately for Audrey and for the fish, they left Bruce, the great white shark, out of the exhibit. 

Folks in the aquarium business know there's more to an ocean adventure than just fish, of course, and had all kinds of booths and activities set up in the main atrium. When we walked in Audrey simply had to get her face painted and, after a lengthy wait in line, she proudly displayed a red-and-yellow sparkled seahorse on her left cheek. Nevermind that she inadvertently smeared it with her hand the moment the artist was done - she didn't have a mirror so was never the wiser.

The automatic bubble-maker outside was a big hit too. Fortunately it was a warm day so Audrey spent some time sprinting back and forth with the other kids, trying to catch elusive bubbles. I'm glad we we wrapped up on a positive note because she has always liked animal exhibits - she has been to the San Francisco zoo, for example, numerous times. For some reason tigers and monkeys and grizzly bears scare a 3-year-old less than big fish. Funny how things change.