The K

While I’ve been prone to calling my little girl The Moppet of late, I never truly settled on a single nickname. Moppet works well because she’s little, precocious and has a wild head of hair. But in the past it’s been a cycle of diminutives from pants-less to naked girl to goober with the occasional scutch thrown in for good measure. There’s also been some less than favorable ones when the day stretches too long, but we’ll ignore those for now.

With this lack of consistency, it seems as though Kayleigh decided to take matters into her own hands. A couple months ago she began referring to herself as “The K” – seriously. As cute as it is to hear her answer questions like “Who wants a cookie?” with an exclamation of “The K”, it does come across as a tad George Costanza-ish. Maybe I should tell her to call me “T-bone”, you know, because I eat a lot of steaks…

Strangely enough I think the moniker did rub off on me. Every so often Kayleigh would call me “Dad” instead of “Daddy” and my typical response was to shorten her name to simply Kay. Between those exchanges, her own nickname and the feeling of formality that the overuse of her full name can brings, I’ve come to find myself calling her Kay with far greater regularity. And that’s despite the fact that she has switched back to the more proper “Kayleigh” when make self-referential statements.

Hopefully this won’t have any negative impact on her impression of her first name. I grew up with great affection for “Thomas” and it took me quite a long time to accept its abridgment – even today refusing to give up the h. Aside from its beauty, one of the main reasons I love the name Kayleigh is the ability to shorten it to a pleasant nickname – two, actually. I really do want The Moppet to be able to enjoy all aspects of her name and to choose whatever form suits her best – preferably one without a definite article attached.

Daddy vs. The Hair

As a dad, dealing with my daughter’s hair can be a bit of a challenge. I didn’t grow up with any need for headbands, barrettes, clips or those mane things that were all the rage. Now I have to learn how to manage the Moppet’s wild and crazy hair. Fortunately even my pitiful attempts at hair styling can’t mask her adorableness.

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Despite the smile, those pigtails don’t last beyond dinner. Maybe half of one does. I may have to move onto braids if I want any of this to last, but that may be too cruel.

The power of choice

Kayleigh has firmly entrenched herself in the “must test every request/instruction/order” phase. That means everything from diaper changes to hand washing has become just that much more of a challenge. Some days it seems as though it’s just not worth the effort. Just let her wade around in a 2 day old diaper with yesterday’s oatmeal still caked to her face. Sadly this whole “responsible parenting” thing gets in the way and we’re forced to deal with the issue.

The Woman made a suggestion the other day. Give her a choice. If she doesn’t want to wash her hands, give her the option of choosing where to wash them. If she doesn’t want to put on clothes, give her a chance to pick out an outfit. Seems a little too simple; The Moppet would have to see through it, right?

But kids actually fall for this stuff. Tonight she kept insisting that we should watch TV before bedtime when I really wanted us to read. “You can pick out a book,” I said. Finally she caved and went for The Tooth Book – not my personal choice, but it did the trick. Next she wouldn’t let me get her dressed for bed. “I”ll sleep in my shirt,” she said. But showing her 2 different pajamas suddenly changed everything. Thirty seconds later she was all zipped up.

I realize we’re not the first parents to figure this out, but just like every little toddler transition feels like a miracle, so does every little “parenting trick” discovery. Next up: bribing your kid with sweets.

It’s New Year’s Eve, why am I watching an idiot in a plaid suit?

The question is, do we just think that the New Year’s Eve TV specials were better because of our nostalgia-tinted glasses used when viewing our childhood or is this “I wanna be a billionaire” song really that stupid? Granted the audio is off and lots of lyrics come across as substandard when passed through closed captioning, but the ridiculousness of this guy’s plaid suit really overshadows any potential talent he may possess.

Yeah, it’s about ten minutes ’til 2011 and I’m watching crappy musical performances on Fox – because that’s a depressing way to end a year. Reba just took the stage, although it was difficult to recognize her under the whore makeup, and now it looks like Carrie Underwood was just shown putting as much enthusiasm into her clapping as she does with her performances.

This was not supposed to be a live blogging post but… wait, was there seriously a commercial for House? That show is still on? Hasn’t he cured lupus by now? Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, the end of one year and beginning of the next has snuck up on me once again. I’m too lazy to do a full “year in review” – especially for a year in which I rarely blogged – so let me just say that 2010 started on some really crappy notes, had a bunch of ups and downs, but really pulled itself together at the last minute for a heck of a finish. Was that generic enough? Sorry, but there’s too much that just can’t be spelled out on a blog. I will say that I feel far more comfortable and content with my family, job, life, etc. today than a year ago.

Resolutions aren’t exactly my bag and blogging-related ones are about as cliche as hipsters in car commercials (zing!), but I really do plan on organizing/redefining things better around here in 2011 and posting far more regularly (we’ve heard that before). So I hope you all had an excellent year and are doing something far more fun and exciting right now that typing up a blog post. See you in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Wherein a small child invades NYC

Yesterday I began my extended holiday early by heading into New York City for The Moppet’s first trip into the big, bad city. After a sprint to catch the train, it started like this:

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And ended like this:

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And in between there was stuff like this:

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Overall it was more of a proof of concept than a true holiday excursion. There was no real planning beyond, “Let’s go to the city and see the big tree.” Which was somewhat silly to do so close to Christmas, but miraculously worked out.

We started with a lovely lunch at Le Pain Quotidien (which means The Quotidien Bread – thank you 4 years of high school French!) as The Woman used to frequent there for their decadent hot chocolate. After which we made our way over to one of the most famous toy stores… only 3 days before Christmas. Brilliant, I know. Surprisingly, once past the main entrance and all of the mammoth stuffed animals, the store was “relatively quiet.” Very busy, but certainly not the hectic nightmare of consumerism I had expected.

Once the nonstop parade of toys she can’t play with began to overwhelm Kayleigh, we packed up and headed to see “a really big tree.” Yes, that was enough to convince her that there was more to see outside. Thanks to a little help from Facebook we were able to meet up with a friend in the area who was even kind enough to take a picture of us in front of said tree. Maybe someday I’ll get around to posting it. In the meantime, just picture three people in front of a really huge tree. That’s close enough.

And that was also enough for us. Come spring time I’d like to really walk around with The Moppet and introduce her to the joys of CD shopping in The Village and fighting tourists in Times Square, but 4 hours was enough stress for now. Especially with the regular addition and subtraction of many layers that sort of, but not quite, kept us at decent temperatures. Still, she was quite the trooper throughout the tramping around such a strange environment and was even kind enough to fall asleep in her stroller for the walk back to Penn Station.

Fortunately she woke up in time for her favorite part – staring out the window of a moving train.

My week of Wawa

When they began development on a vacant lot about a quarter mile off my usual commute I didn’t pay much mind. Not too surprisingly they started to dig up the ground to put in some tanks. A gas station seemed to be the obvious choice for the location. If nothing else it might add a little convenience – but a new gas station in New Jersey isn’t something to get excited about.

And then the building began to take shape. There seemed to be a familiar feeling to the store front. A particular angled roof appeared that hearkened back to a place that heavily populated my childhood.

No. It couldn’t be. Not here in north Jersey…

Yes, yes it was. A WAWA! Not just anywhere, but right along my daily commute!

It may seem silly, but in a land populated with Dunkin Donuts every 5 miles, Starbucks on every corner and crappy 7-11s and their ilk in the most inconvenient locations one thing I have certainly missed is Wawa. Growing up you could hardly swing proverbially dead cats without hitting them. But like many of the great Philly treats, they dried up once you crossed I78 or so.

But the grand opening last Friday signaled a new era in my professional life. One that includes a chance to stop off for cheap and tasty built-to-order hoagies, pork roll sandwiches and fresh-brewed roadside coffee whenever I so desire. And with coffee being free this week, I have most definitely been in the desirin’ mood. Everyday has offered me the chance to sample a different variety of greasy breakfast goods with questionable nutritional value. How many other places give me the opportunity to bite into a ciabatta roll filled with philly cheesesteak and sauteed onions (oh yeah, and egg) before 9 am?

Once the free coffee dries up I’ll need to limit myself, but in the meantime… oh the times I shall have…