Warning, cute kid story ahead

So it's been a while ago that we transitioned Theo to a full-sized bed. He started asking to sleep in the guest bed one day, so we gave it a try for naptime and by the end of the week his crib was sitting lonely and unused.

For the most part he has been very good about no longer being caged -- that first week, when he would leave the bed at naptime to play, a couple threats to return him to the crib put him in line. Since most of the time he wakes up making some noise, the baby monitor has always told me when he was ready to get out of bed.

So two mornings ago, at about 5AM, I woke up to the sound of footsteps on the landing. I thought "huh, he made it out of the room without me hearing it in the monitor. Sneaky." In a second or two, our bedroom door was open and I heard a familiar little voice say "Daaaaaddyyyyy..."

"Theo, go back to bed," I said just before Ruth could chime in with "Theo, everyone is still asleep." As usual when he knows he's wrong, I heard little footsteps run into his room, his door close and latch, and the little steps continue into his bed. I dozed off in a couple minutes, waking briefly as Ruth left for work a little while later, and only woke up for good when Theo started making noise again after 7. This was a FANTASTIC surprise, because he's been getting me up at or before 6 most mornings lately regardless of when he goes to bed.

So Theo and I went downstairs, where I found one of my containers of yogurt that I'd frozen for myself sitting on the kitchen table. Peculiar. "Ruth must not have realized we still have yogurt for Theo in the fridge. She was trying to help out. How nice!" Then I found a half-bag of half-thawed frozen strawberries in the sink. "Well, it is plain yogurt. He'd want some fruit in it. Good idea, dear."

... A very small voice in the back of my head thought "Ruth doesn't usually presume to do this stuff..." but since the frozen cup of yogurt had been thoughtfully arranged on a neatly folded towel, I figured it MUST have been Ruth.

When Ruth came home from work that night, I told her, "Hey, thanks for the yogurt, but we had plenty for Theo in the fridge."

She replied, "THAT wasn't me. I found it sweating all over the table, so I put the towel under it. Then I found some strawberries that I moved to the sink to thaw. What was up with that?"

I looked at Theo enjoying his dinner, and finally the little voice that had been whispering that morning was screaming.

"Well dear, I think Theo came downstairs this morning before he woke us up to get himself some breakfast. He opened the freezer, pulled out a cup of yogurt and a bag of strawberries, then put them on the dining room table. I'm guessing he came upstairs to get me when he realized he couldn't get the foil wrapper off the yogurt container."

"Theo, did you come downstairs this morning and try to make yourself breakfast?"

"YEEEEAAASS!" Of course, this reply is meaningless, as I've asked Theo before if James Dean and Elvis visit him at preschool, and he's given me the same hyper-enthused positive response. Still, it makes a lot more sense than Ruth's theory that someone broke in during the middle of the night to help himself to some yogurt before the cats scared him off. Sorry dear.

I COMPLETELY expected the day to come when Theo would be wandering the house while we slept, but I never figured he'd be doing it at 2.5 years old, or that he'd be halfway to making himself breakfast in total darkness while we slept. We laughed until our sides hurt, and I asked Theo to not go downstairs anymore until he checks with me first.

I guess it's time to see if doorknob covers will work on the glass doorknobs the old owners installed all over this place...

Theo gives his opinions...

Just wasting time...

Just dropped off Theo for his first day of preschool. He's going to a small school in the neighborhood, just two mornings a week. He's been ready for a long time to start spending more time around other kids and less around his Daddy. I'm MORE than ready to have six hours of my adulthood back every week.

've been trying to figure out lately why I haven't had the urge to do any blogging or longer-form writing in general. In part, I know it's the amount of time I've concentrated on running, to the exclusion of other hobbies, but I think 'm also getting tired of being identified just as "Daddy," to the exclusion of other roles. I love my kid. He's a lot of fun to be with an I wouldn't trade the past two years. But having to be "on" pretty much every waking hour and parts of the sleeping ones leaves me without the mental energy and concentration for blogging.

Call me a whiny bitch or whatever, but I'm learning my limits.

But anyway, his first day: I was running a few minutes late, as usual -- we had to walk a neighbor's dog -- and then we managed to walk a block from the house before I realized I'd forgotten his extra clothes and diapers at home. At least it was only a block, right? That ate up all our extra time, so I carried him most of the way there so we could still be there with some time to spare. I figure I'll work on leaving earlier in the future, so he can walk on his own.

As we approached the school, I realized that it was the first day not just for the Monday/Wednesday 2-year-olds, but also for the older kids who attend Monday/Wednesday/Friday. The entrance was like a red carpet paparazzi lineup as people photographed and filmed their little ones arriving for their first day. I didn't bring a camera -- I really wanted to avoid making a big production of things -- and I just walked him directly inside to his classroom.

When we arrived, the teacher greeted him, introduced herself and pointed him in the direction of a box of matchbox cars...and I might as well have disappeared at that point. I handed over some paperwork to the teacher, loaded his cubby with extra clothes and diapers ... and it was time for me to go. I said "High five, buddy, see you later," and he barely looked up to raise his hand. Not even some crying from a couple other kids could faze him.

So, pretty anticlimactic, really. I look forward to seeing how he's doing in an hour, seeing what he's bringing home and what he has to say, but in the meantime I'm just happy to be alone, sitting on the patio at Starbucks and pretending that I'm an irresponsible layabout with nothing on my mind and nowhere to go... my future plans while he's in school include a return to brewing and finishing a few things around the house.

And if a mere two hours of relaxation can lead to a long blog post, there's no telling how much I can accomplish...