Reading and Writing

Jonah wrote his name for the first time today. Here's an example (not the first time, but the first time he showed me when I got home from work):

I definitely do not understand motivation behind reading and writing. I remember back in kindergarten when I couldn't read the jokes on those little wax Dixie cups. My neighbor, Jessica could. I wanted to know how to read and somehow I figured out how to do it.

Jonah has known his alphabet for over a year. He can, with a little prompting, sing the ABCs backwards. We played word games at the dinner table every night (I'll give you this alphabet cookie after you tell me three words that start with this letter). He recognizes some words on a page and can get pretty far sounding them out. He tells us, though, that he doesn't want to learn how to read. "Hop on Pop"? Naw.

Is this a control issue, fear of failure, or something else? My guess is that it comes down to basic incentives. Jonah's incentives not to read outweigh his incentives to read. If he learns to read, he risks -- or he thinks he risks -- less one-on-one time reading with mom, dad, or his teachers. If he learns to read, he'll know what traffic signs mean (not very useful, since he doesn't drive) and he can read any book he wants (not an issue, because we pretty much read anything he wants to him). But this is total speculation.

There's no rush, right? I'd love it if Jonah could read to his infant sister, but we can cover for him there. Part of me thinks I want Jonah to learn to read and write quickly just so I can brag about it...kind of like I'm doing in this blog post. But really, I want him to read and write because he wants to. Right? Right?

My Son, the Hero

I've mentioned before that every night at bedtime I read Jonah a story and tell him a story. Tonight, he said he wanted me to tell a story about "Jonah, the guy who melts cold men who are bad." This was new, the first time Jonah has asked for an action-adventure bedtime story.

This cold man thing started a couple of nights ago during dinner. Jonah told us that he and Sammy, his friend at school, played "melt the cold man". The cold man is made of mud and he is, well, frozen. He does bad things, although I'm not sure what Jonah envisions is bad. In any case, Jonah and Sammy were being heroes by melting the cold man.

I learned tonight that the cold man is in a movie that Sammy's mom and dad let him watch. I was only mildly appalled. Michele and I keep Jonah away from violent TV, but this was bound to happen eventually.

Laying next to Jonah at bedtime, I had to think fast. What could I tell him about Jonah, the guy who melts cold men who are bad...that wouldn't perpetuate the idea that only people who bash bad guys are heroes? Tonight, Jonah and Sammy quickly melted a cold man who came down from the sky near two girls who were fighting over a toy truck. Jonah helped the girls resolve a complex dispute over who owned the toy truck, and then he came up with an excellent solution for sharing the reward (another toy truck) with Sammy. Yes, he was a hero.

(Astronauts are heroes, too!)

Shared Interests

Jonah and I developed some bad habits in the way we spent time together.

Example 1: I'm at my computer and Jonah wants to be with me, so he sits on my lap. Bored, he soon starts playing with staples, drawing on mail, and hitting random keys on the keyboard while I type. I lose patience and can't get anything done. No fun.

Example 2: At dinner, we start talking about something Jonah has never heard of before. Say, slime molds. I have the brilliant idea to go find videos of slime molds on YouTube. I think, "Cool, I get to show Jonah something new." Jonah thinks, "Cool, I get to spend 30 minutes on the computer watching the same video again and again." No fun again.

Example 3: Jonah is in the family room and says, "Dad, come play trucks with me." For all I am worth, I cannot figure out what "playing trucks" means. Sure, I can smash some, make them go up a ramp or two, or race for a few minutes. But Jonah is intently focused on scooping plastic coal into a dump truck. Over and over. No fun.

I was acutely aware that this was not the relationship I wanted with my son. Me joining him doing something he wanted to do, him joining me doing something I wanted to do, and neither of us really able to find interest in what the other liked. I did not want to go through the motions of enjoying each others' company. I wanted to find something that we both liked and could really share because we both wanted to be doing it.

Then Magformers came into our lives, a Hanukkah gift from Jonah's Nana. These are plastic triangles and squares filled with magnets, such that surprisingly complex structures can be built. The technology is very cool for a nerd like me. I am fascinated.

Now, Jonah and I build together. Neither of us directs things, as we both have a tendency to do. We help each other, holding pieces while the other puts some in place. We share our own creativity and copy each others' creativity. I lose track of time.

I love feeling like my son's peer, even though he's not even four yet. We have found a way to connect as equals, and it is incredible.

Paint

A couple of weeks ago, Jonah and I watched a DVD about the Space Station. Shortly thereafter, he announced that he wasn't going to wear any clothes because he was a Proton rocket and rockets don't wear clothes. This wasn't a fundamentally new thing, because Jonah is usually something other than a kid or a boy, but it was different in two ways. First, this was the first time he was an object instead of a type of person. In fact, in the days that followed, he moved from rocket to bucket truck to garbage can.
Second, this was the first time he wanted to be totally naked. This was the real shocker because Jonah is very clothing conscious -- he chooses button-down shirts most days and wears them with the collar up, he will no longer wear t-shirts with pictures on them, and he swaps his wardrobe with the smallest sign of dirt.
While naked is okay at home, we didn't really want him in the buff at school. His grandma Janet convinced him to wear some "paint" -- one of two sets of REI longjohns. He now wears them whenever they are clean.

A New Big Brother

Jonah has been a big brother for just over 24 hours. So far, this doesn't seem to have effected him much. He has only seen his sister twice, and he was excited both times. She and mom come home tomorrow, and I suspect that is when the real adjustment will begin.

I'm ambivalent about this. On one hand, I am very excited to have the baby home. I'm also excited about the opportunity this creates for my son. I'm a big brother, too, and although I didn't appreciate it at the time I now know that my sister -- or just having a sibling -- had a lot of impact on my personality. I learned to be a protector and a teacher, and I attribute most of this to my relationship with my younger sister. I look forward to his sister, Aliza, softening Jonah a bit and helping him develop empathy.

At the same time, I already mourn for my son's loss of being the center of attention. I can't imagine how difficult this will be for him.

I am already calculating how I can be the right parent for Jonah through this, while at the same time giving my daughter what she needs AND building both of the relationships. I imagine I will focus on being the friend for Jonah that I've already tried to be. Do guy stuff with him, teach him everything I can, challenge him, and continue to love him more and more every day. I guess I'm as anxious for me as I am for him.

Underwear, Day 2

No accidents today. Jonah still needs to work on his aim, but no accidents.

I'm not sure if this will be self-sustaining yet. Michele and I reminded him frequently, but I don't think any of his trips to the potty were at our prompting. He seems to have a good sense for when he needs to go -- but now he acts on it.

We'll see how things go tomorrow, when he and Michele are home without me.

Underwear, Day 1

After about nine months of potty training teasers, we took the plunge this morning and put Jonah in underwear. He'd been in pull-ups for a couple of months, using the potty once or twice a day and dry all night every night. (For those of you new to the terminology, "pull-ups" are absorbent like diapers but they pull up like underwear. That way, the child can easily take them off and put them back on while learning to use the toilet.)

Today Jonah did really well. One accident. Otherwise, in the toilet or on the front porch (The latter after stripping to run through the sprinklers. Maybe not the best judgement on his part, since his clothes were in the line of fire). When he had his accident this afternoon, sitting on his bedroom floor, he quickly sounded the alarm and changed as fast as he could. A good sign, I think, that he is learning. Plus, it gave me what I needed before he went to bed: "Remember your accident earlier? What would happen if you had an accident while in bed?" Without my even suggesting it he went to the potty again, asking me to help him pee standing up.

I'm a total amateur at potty-training psychology, and I have pangs of parental guilt. I truly believe that he has to want it for him to be successful, and wearing pull-ups or diapers doesn't provide much incentive. I suspect that about 95% of the time he is aware enough now to choose the toilet over his pants. I'm hoping that the discomfort of wet Lightning McQueen underwear, plus loving parental support as he makes mistakes and pees on the carpet, will do the trick.

Early Career Planning

Yes, we do still exist. I apologize for the posting hiatus. It won't happen again. :)

Jonah is a mailman today. He and his mom told me this during dinner. He delivers mail on the street that runs perpendicular to ours, and his stuffed lamb, Baby Hoof, delivers mail on a street a couple of blocks away. Hoof ran out of mail today and had to go home.

I'm not sure when Jonah grew out of his childhood, but I think he skipped being a little boy entirely. We have another baby due in a few months, and despite the fact that we've been reading I'm Going to Be a Big Brother, he insists that he is not going to be a big brother. He is going to be a garbage truck driver, or an astronaut, or a construction worker, or a fireman (pictured here), depending on the day.

This may have started when he first became interested in vehicles. There is usually a truck involved, although he will opt for other vehicles as appropriate.

His choice in roles influences both his storytelling and mine. Each night, I read a story and tell a story at bedtime. When I ask what the story I tell should be about, it is always "Jonah the x". Sometimes he'll give me a lot more to go on, like "Jonah the tree trimmer and his tree trimming truck." This pretty much entitles me to tell a story about anything I feel like because Jonah, regardless of his role, is really a jack of all trades. The other night, for example, I told him about Jonah the truck driver and the mermaid. All truck drivers should have the scuba diving and shark chasing skills that Jonah has.

Food Negotiations

In the past month, Jonah has grown feistier about food. Michele has become an expert negotiator when it comes to getting Jonah to eat his dinner. Tonight was a great and surprising example.

We had a tasty stew tonight, with lentils, greens, potatoes, ham, carrots. Lentils and ham are usually within what Jonah will eat. Sometimes greens and potatoes. Nothing doing tonight. He wouldn't even touch bread. As Michele and I finished eating, we let him get up, we wiped him down, and he went to play.

Then the doorbell rang. Our neighbor appeared offering us fresh-off-the-tree persimmons. Yes, persimmons. I have never bought a persimmon in my life, nor have I prepared one at home. Jonah likes fruit, so we decided to give it a shot.

He gobbled up the first four or five pieces before Michele and I realized we had a new bargaining tool. Soon, a bite of ham got Jonah a bite of persimmon. A swallow of lentils plus a chunk of potato got him the next persimmon piece. I felt kind of guilty. If I'm going to offer my kid a treat in exchange for him eating dinner, shouldn't the treat at least be mildly unhealthy?

I guess not. Over the next fifteen minutes, Jonah ate a plate of stew chunks and almost half a persimmon. He didn't even ask for dessert.

First Day of School

Last Thursday, Jonah went to his first day of school by himself. Let me clarify -- Michele and I dropped him off at school and left, for the first time in Jonah's 27+ months of life. Jonah did great.

The night before, I had attended a discussion on transitions and separation that was put on by the preschool. Before this, I hadn't really thought that Jonah's starting school would impact me. The talk, however, filled me with a low level of dread. Would my kid be one of the three per year who has to be "handed off" to a teacher while mom and dad sneak out the door? Would Jonah have a meltdown in the parking lot? Was I prepared for this? How, really, would Michele take it?



To start with, Jonah rocked. We walked into his classroom just before 9 and he headed straight for the toy fire engines. He barely noticed when we left, barely felt the kisses we plunked on his head because he was too busy to look up from playing. When Michele returned a few hours later, she had to convince him to leave the playground. No ill effects, whatsoever.

Michele held up better than I expected. A few tears, but that was it. She was the brave one that day.

I'm still thinking about it. As uneventful as it may have been, this seems like a big transition. I have no doubt that it is the right thing for all of us. Jonah will learn from different adults -- and kids. His immune system will get a chance to buff up. Michele will have some free time, which she truly deserves. I'm the only one whose life doesn't directly change. This makes me sad, in a funny way, because I feel kind of left out. I guess that's what happens to dads sometimes.

(Couldn't resist the video. Jonah sings the "Hello Song" from Music Together. See if you can catch "Hello to my silliness" in the second part.)

Learning About Consequences

The three of us often go for walks after dinner. Jonah explores, touching things, smelling things, picking things up. Last weekend, he started grasping the handles of car doors when we would pass by. Both Michele and I thought this was a bad idea. "Those cars don't belong to us," we told him. There wasn't anything really bad about Jonah doing this. We both instinctively didn't like it, though, and told him not to do it.

After multiple rounds of car-touching-and-mom-or-dad-saying-no, I finally stopped him and told him that if he touched another car we would go straight home. He said he understood: "Touch car go straight home." He seemed to forget about touching cars until we crossed the street. Then, he grabbed the handle of a blue pick-up.

True to my word, I lifted him up and started walking back home. Two and a half blocks. Jonah wailed, "No go home. Down." Tears ran down his face as he squirmed and bucked in my arms. It was very difficult for both of us, and every step I asked myself if I was doing the right thing.

We got home and I put him down. He was still crying, "No! No go home," and flailing his arms angrily. After a few minutes he stopped and we hugged him. Michele and I asked together if he understood why we came home. He did: "Touch blue truck." Crisis over, the rest of the night went smoothly.

Monday night came around and we walked again. We reminded him what happened last time. Every time he came near a car, Michele and I both held our breath. It felt like he was taunting us. All was fine until, about five houses away from home, he very purposefully smacked the taillight of a car. I swooped him up. "No go home!" he cried, but he didn't squirm quite as much as the previous night.

Tonight we went for a walk again. Jonah was very cautious. He likes to walk along the line that divides the curb from the sidewalk, but every time he walked near a car he held his arm close to his body. Even when he walked next to a car that was parked very close to the curb, he made a point of not touching it. There were some close spots. "Point at car," said Jonah, as he wiggled his finger near a car door. But this was not teasing. I think he was making it clear that he knew what was okay. We made it home with no incidents.

I don't consider myself especially good at setting boundaries, but I think this was a success. Jonah learned that there are consequences to his actions. He learned that he should do what mom and dad say or he might not like the results. He learned that we will do what we say we will. I don't think he learned about other people's property, but that's a much harder, abstract concept. Part of me feels petty for making an example out of something as small as touching car door handles. It felt heavy-handed and controlling. That said, we generally use good judgement in what we "no" him about, and it seems like a good thing that he is learning to respond.

Too Smart, Too Fast

I write a lot about how amazed I am with Jonah's speech and mental development. Another great example occurred last night, when we were finishing up dinner.

Michele: Would you like some fruit, Jonah? What kind of fruit? Orange? Grapes?

Jonah (deadpan): Cookie fruit. (laughs)

He is developing so quickly. I look back at my blog posts and see how far he has come in less than a year. This turns out to be a challenge, though, with school. Jonah started preschool early last year. While we were researching schools in January, one of them had an opening in its 2-year old class and invited Jonah to join even though he wasn't two yet (and is actually about 4 months behind the age cutoff for the class). It turned out that he was at least 6 months younger than the other kids in the class. Mentally and verbally, he was pretty close to -- and even ahead of -- some of the other kids. Socially and physically, though, there was a clear difference.

For next year, we, in discussion with his teacher, have decided that he's not ready to move on to the next class. He hasn't started school yet, but we're already questioning the decision. While Michele and I know that his peers who are moving on are a lot more mature and able to handle themselves better, we worry that being in the younger class will slow down his development. Most of the kids in the younger class are considerably younger (6 months or more). As Michele puts it, how can we place our son with kids who are just saying "Mama" while he says "I'm hydrating" while drinking from his Nalgene?

As I reflect, waiting to move him up may not be a bad thing. I think Jonah got off to a fast start with his language skills, but his other developmental areas haven't caught up yet. Having these things out of sync might not be good. Maybe he -- and we -- will be better off if he spends some more time learning how to play with other kids and cooperate with adults.

25 Months

[Note: If you have not done so already, please sign up for email notifications of my blog updates on the left. I've tested this, and it does not lead to tons of junk mail.]

I've been pretty lazy about updating this blog. So, a quick update:

Jonah turned two at the end of May. We had a birthday party that most of our family -- coming in from Southern California and North Carolina -- attended. It was great to have them here. Jonah chose construction equipment as a theme (see the photo of the cake that his mom and Nana made). Jonah was definitely aware of the party and he understood that this was for him -- very different from his first birthday.

Jonah will repeat anything we say and use the words in sentences. He absorbs everything and uses it in creative ways. A few days ago, for example

Jonah (smirking): Butterflies eat butter.
Michele: And what do horseflies eat?
Jonah: Horses.

In fact, he just came up to me and I showed him a preview of this blog. I asked him what the picture was and he said, "a birthday party". "Whose birthday party?" I asked. "Jonah's".

He still hasn't got his personal pronouns straight. He uses "you" in place of "I". Makes sense, since we always refer to him as "you".

Lastly, he is incredibly cute. See his renditions of "Kookabura" and "Two Little Kitty Cats", both from his Music Together class.

Stitches

Today was probably Jonah's most traumatic day in his 25+ months of life. He slipped and smashed his chin, cutting it open. There was blood in his mouth (it turned out he also bit his tongue), down his neck, on his shirt, on me. The blood stopped fairly quickly, but we took him to the doctor's office and ended up getting seven stitches -- two internal and five external. This all happened just before nap time, and Jonah was not happy.

The two hours at the doctor's office were pretty hard. Jonah is a tough kid, and he was up and about afterwards wearing his backpack and marching back to the car. He is a squirmer, though. The doctor said she has handled worse, but we came close to heading to the ER to knock him out.

You might wonder how one puts stitches in a two-year-old. Wrap him up in a sheet like a burrito, shoulders to knees, so he can't move his arms. Nurse holds his head, dad holds his body and legs, mom tries to keep his attention, and doctor does her work. Jonah really does not like being constrained, as Michele and I know. He was very, very scared and very, very brave.

From my vantage point, I had a perfect view of the stitching. It was a much deeper cut than any of us thought at first. I looked into my son's wound, his flesh. It was dark inside, a little hole in my child's face.

It should heal pretty well. We need to keep it mostly covered with waterproof band-aids for five days, when the stitches should be dissolved. The doctor said we can reduce scarring by massaging in vitamin E and keeping the area out of the sun after the scab goes away. Fortunately, the cut is under his chin and a bit back. Most people will never see it, but I'll know it is there.

Toddler Talk

Now that we have a new digital camera, I'll be uploading clips of Jonah to Google Video. This one shows some great talking.



At 21 months, Jonah's speech is amazing. A few days ago, for example, he told Michele "Daddy car dirty has bird poo". And yes, he was right. He continues to repeat pretty much anything we say, but he's clearly doing more than mimicking. A few other interesting developmental tidbits:

- He can say his numbers one through nine. He understands the meaning of "two" and "four" (he usually gets either two or four cookies with dinner), but he doesn't understand counting yet. As an example, while he knows that "three" comes after "two", he doesn't get that when you start with two cards and add one more you would call this "three".

- Jonah has a few letters that he still has trouble saying. "Like" is "wike". "Snake" is "thnake". "Bath" is "baff".

- We think he has just started gaining consciousness of dreams. He told Michele last week, "Good night, firefly. See you later." We've traced this to the Dragon Tales cartoon he sometimes watches on PBS. However, he has now told us that he's seen Firefly at night. Last night, he was afraid to go to sleep because of the firefly. I explained what dreams were and told him that sometimes we have to be brave, but in the end he wouldn’t go to sleep until we plugged in a brighter night light. I remember wanting a night light when I was scared to go to sleep as a kid. I guess it works for Jonah, too.

Pacifier

President's Day weekend was a triumph of child adaptability. Michele and I have been discussing for over a year whether and how to remove the semi-permanently glued pacifier from Jonah's face. Before this past weekend, a "pa-fa-ah" was in his mouth at all times except for meals, baths, and leaving the house (although we sometimes made exceptions to the latter).

We've gone back and forth on pulling the plug --

Pros:
- We didn't like him talking with it in his mouth.
- We were irked by his dependence on it.
- We rarely see other kids using them.
- The doctor said we should.

Cons:
- Risk of Jonah needing years of therapy after we brutally remove his self-soothing device.
- We're strong, independent parents. Who cares that we're irked, that other kids don't use them, or that the doctor said we should take it away?

We reasoned, at times, that he'd give it up when he's ready. This was pure, wimpy, rationalization. In the end, we decided that it'll only get harder as time goes on. So, we took the plunge.

How? On Saturday morning, before we took him out of his crib, we first explained the plan to him. We then told him that he had to put his pacifier in a special place of his choosing -- this ended up being a plastic cup with a picture of a cat on it -- if he wanted us to take him out of his crib. It was a total, yet unintentional, bad cop-good cop between Michele and I (I got to be the good cop for once). When he finally handed it to me to put in the cup, it was one of the bravest things I've seen him do. The three of us danced around yelling "Bravo"!

Waking hours brought three pacifier-related temper tantrums, complete with tears and kicking around on the floor. As agreed, we gave it back to him in his crib for naps and night time.

Sunday and Monday were easier. The morning bravo dances helped. He made fewer, less fervent requests throughout the days.

On Tuesday morning I got a voicemail from Michele. Jonah woke up, handed her his pacifier, and said "put pa-fa-ah in kitty cup".

Kids are awesome!

Manamana

Jonah and I frequently scan Google Video and YouTube for cool clips. We started out with movie trailers ("Cars", "Happy Feet") and moved to animation videos. Today we found this one from Sesame Street. It's as old as I am, but Jonah laughs at it. As I write this, we've watched it about six times in a row:

Google Video: Manamana
Jonah: "Again, again."
Google Video: Manamana
Jonah: "Again, again."
etc.

Toddler Hanukkah

Well, it's the night before Christmas. More importantly, it's the day after the last day of Hanukkah. This was Jonah's first Hanukkah in which he was really aware. Some highlights:

- When I came home from work on the first night, he was already saying "ha-kah" and associating it with the menorah, dreidels, and his First Hanukkah Book.
- After I read the first transliterated blessing, he signed "more".
- By the third night, he knew what came after candles -- presents! (See some great examples to the right.)
- We didn't get to our traditional dinner until the last night. Jonah gobbled up the brisket (from my dad's famous recipe) and the "ha-ha" (challah), but didn't go for the latkes.

We don't celebrate many holidays in our household, only Thanksgiving and Hanukkah. Michele and I have been pretty consistent about Hanukkah for the past few years, despite the fact that I have minimal Judaism in my upbringing and Michele grew up with Christianity and Catholicism. Michele and I talk frequently about how to be more Jewish, including joining a temple, sending Jonah to Jewish day care or preschool. I think a lot about why this is so important to me and I've come up with two things.

First, most of my life I wanted to learn more about Judaism. I only went to Hebrew school for a year and I was barely bar-mitvah'd. Including religion in my life with any more regularity than eight nights every twelve months is a bit scary. I'm skeptical of religions in general, and most of my childhood experiences with Jewish community left a bad taste in my mouth. But I am curious, and I feel like I have a chance to learn the things that I didn't when I was a kid.

Second, being Jewish is the only "minority" thing about me. I still remember how I felt in second grade when most of the class drew Christmas trees and the other Jewish kid and me were stuck with menorahs. Today, the little girl next door asked me if my Christmas presents were wrapped. I felt the same twinge I always do at being mistaken for someone who celebrates Christmas -- pride, some self-conscious indignation, a little embarrassment. Thirty years ago, if someone had asked me if I wanted my son to go through the menorah/Christmas tree dance I would have said no. But I really want Jonah to have the experience of being a minority, even if it is only in a small piece of his life that he only thinks about for a few weeks in December.

18 Months Old

Jonah turned 18 months old on Sunday. Thursday was Thanksgiving, and Michele and I know that we have much to be thankful for.

Here are the stats. Jonah is 33 1/2" tall and he weighs 23 lbs., 10 oz. That keeps him in string bean range, at 83rd and 20th percentile for height and weight, respectively. For anyone keeping track, he has doubled in length and tripled in mass since birth. Tall and thin is in, despite a food rampage over the past week. The photo here is from the night after Thanksgiving, where Jonah discovered the wondrous combination of ketchup and cranberry sauce. I just kept thinking, "brains, more brains".

I learned some interesting things at his 18-month "well baby" checkup. First, there is nothing wrong with harnessing Jonah's love for everbody's favorite tomatoey condiment to get him to eat his vegetables. In fact, Michele just informed me that tomorrow's lunch will include ketchup with brocolli -- a tasty treat that even Ronald Reagan would be proud to serve in school lunches.

Second, a flu vaccine needle looks really big and scary next to my 33 1/2 inch baby. Jonah was one brave dude, taking three shots in the thighs today. What must be going through his mind when he's pinned down by mom and dad on cold doctor's office butcher paper -- even before the first poke? Then after the first...and after the second...and after the third? The emotional scars of childhood!

Lastly, it really is important to wean your kid from his pacifier. Michele and I have had a love-hate affair with the "na-na's". Before he was born, we decided we didn't want to get him hooked. A nurse convinced us otherwise with a stern look as he wailed and wailed the first night of his life. I plead only partial guilt, since we were both sleepless and clueless. Anyways, our pediatrician convinced me today that the longer we wait, the harder it will get. Perhaps it's just been a fantasy that one day Jonah is just going to leave his pacifier on the floor somewhere and never turn back -- as one day he will leave home, parents strewn on the floor, and never turn back.

Sick Kid

Jonah is sick. He's had a cold for the past three or four days. No fever, just a very runny nose and a cough. I'm pretty sure that his illness is more distressing to Michele and me than it is to him.

In fact, he's usually in a good mood when he's sick -- and he's not even old enough to get to stay home from school. Unlike his mom and I, who worry about how long we're going to be sick, how it's going to impact us at work, whether it is going to prevent us from running marathons, and the like, he is just unfazed emotionally. I'm not saying that there are no added stresses. Jonah is clearly upset by coughing fits and mom continually wiping gobs of mucous from his nose. But those things are transient. When they're over, they're over. It's not clear to me whether he lacks the foresight to know that the booger wipings are going to keep coming or whether he's just better at not resenting short-term pain than I am. In any case, I admire his resilience.

Despite his illness, he is talking and thinking ferociously. He finally seems to understand that animal types ("dg", a perfect "cat") are different from animal noises ("fff", "mee-ah"). In addition to Goodnight Moon and Happy Baby Things that Go, he has plunked down in our laps with an atlas and with Thich Nhat Hanh's Teachings on Love. He now says "pk" (park), "pack" (pack -- we're in the process of moving), "tuk" (truck), "Peet" (as in Peet's Coffee, where he and mom go), and coolest of all, "me" (the real self-reference) -- all in context.

So, as bummed as I am to see my child sick, I am overjoyed with him and how he changes every day.