A full week of hearty eating and deep sleeping signals the arrival of another growth spurt. In this case, lucky me, it’s his brain size that has taken a jump. Why would that  be bad, you ask?  It’s not, by itself. It’s great that he is showing improved language skills. He can rhyme. He has a developing sense of musical rhythm. I noticed him singing back a line of a song that was playing on the radio, a song he had not heard before. He is awesome.

But, there is a down side to a cognitive ability expansion. With all of that  new, extra brainpower, the young man is challenging every rule he can remember. I can tell you that a tired daddy does not need  a boy running laps through the house wailing at the top of his lungs. Does he really need to practice reacting to tragedy? He seems to think so.  He made a dash for freedom while at the Wal-Mart with his mother, he yelled at me for daring to offer him juice when he wanted milk,  and the cat is seeing no end of harassment. On the upside, he did send himself for a timeout when he pulled the cat’s tail, so that’s progress.

Hopefully the unruly storm is blowing itself out and we can weather the last few uprisings from our little nude guerilla. Vive la resistance!

Oh, the enormity of the stress that sat on my shoulders during the first year of parenthood. Through the blissfully thickening fog of forgetfulness, I can see glimpses of  a very tired and freaked out dad.

It’s understandable to be overwhelmed. I suspect that every new dad (every good dad, anyway) loses his mind with worry at the start. The sheer volume of the unknowable is enough to crack even the hardest nut. You have no frame of reference for being in charge of this fragile new life. You’re at your most tired and least rational. It takes repeated trial and error, and a lot of time spent with the little sprout to finally get enough data to build some realistic expectations.

It’s never perfect predictability, since they love to change their behaviours and capabilities in the blink of an eye. Max has now established that he can run into the kitchen, remove his shirt and pants, and return triumphantly nude into the living room, in a few seconds. He’s like superman in reverse.

In other news-sinuses still in revolt. The cool, dry nighttime air is turning my sinus membranes into sludgy wastelands of pain and pressure. Bring on the long hot showers! I cannot wait for this damnable head cold to end so that I can go back to thinking clearly.