Dare to dream

To my best recollection, Will's first obvious attempt at a parental coup came about during my dad's visit this fall. We were driving in the car when Will piped up from his car seat in back with this gem, "Hey, Mommy, I can do whatever I want and you can't do anything about it."

After a quick eyebrow raise to my dad I retorted with, "In your dreams, friend."

Of course, that wasn't the end of it. This morning, on the way to daycare, Will decided that "school is boring" and that he's "already learned enough."

Wow. OK kid, how about if we just postpone this conversation for, oh, say 19 years from now when we're debating the merits of graduate school? Huh?

Now, Scott and I aren't really ones to withhold praise when Will does something good, but we're not really going to hold back when he gets cocky to this degree either. We started a mom-dad volley of "things Will needs to learn" that lasted until the Iola IGA was in view.

"Fine!" was his response accompanied by arms crossed tightly across his little chest. (Seriously ... is this child 3 or 13?)

Anyway, I started thinking about this later because Will's Grandma Linda and I were discussing why Will's developed this tendency to call things "boring." (Of course, being a grandma, her theory involves the influence of other daycare children who couldn't be nearly as good and pure as Will.)

Tonight, I decided to try a new tactic that tied in with the baby. I told Will a story about Baby Will who, when he was born, didn't know how to eat solid food or talk or even lift up his head ... Baby Will LOVED to learn and that's why Big Boy Will knows how to run and jump and do all sort of fun things. So that's why Will needs to keep learning and go to school. Pretty good lesson, I thought, and said good night. Instead of sleeping, I could tell Will was going to get all fidgety ... the blankets came off, then he needed the sheet flattened out, "Mommy? Could you turn on the music? and "Why is the dark so dark?"

"Will, it's time to lay down and go to sleep," I said in my stern Mommy voice. "Stop trying to touch your feet to your head and lay still and get some rest."

That's when his sweet little voice said, "Mommy? Can you please leave now?"

Huh? Sure.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Will?"

"I like it when you leave because then I can do whatever I want."

Sweet dreams, friend.

More on Guido

When Papa Ken heard about Will's attachment to Guido, his response was, "Walter isn't so bad ... maybe Wally?"

However, Will is truly adamant about this Guido business. I think it was a character in a Dinosaur movie that got his wheels turning but then the kicker was when they watched "Cars" at daycare last Friday ... that little Italian race car fan must say, "baby brother" to Will. Apparently, Will thinks I'm going to be giving birth to an 80-year-old Cicilian.

In response to Matt's question: Why not "Luigi?" I'd have to say it's Will's inability to say "L"s and soft "G"s ... it would probably come out "Ooo-E-she" ... come to think of it, he may be offering that up and we're just not understanding him. That happens at least once a day.

Anyway, as far as "Mario" goes ... please don't give Will any ideas.

Guido?

For whatever reason, Guido is still Will's favorite name for our baby. Jana asked him about it again last night while he was bathing, and he reaffirmed his affinity for the name.

"Yesterday, when I said I wanted our baby to be named Guido, everyone laughed," he said.

Sounds about right ...

The end of the dinosaur book

Anyone care to guess how many books Will has been read over the course of his 3-1/2 years? My quick estimate was around 7,000, although it's probably more than that. Some time ago, he started picking up on parts of the books we read him a lot - we would read the first four words in a line, and he'd finish it off. Then he was able to recite pages with 6-8 words.

Last night, about five minutes after I put Will down "to bed," he runs to the top of the stairs and says "Daddy! I read the last page of the dinosaur book all by myself!" To which I said "That's great buddy, now go back to bed."

Only this morning did I realize what he was getting at. Basically, he was able to recite/paraphrase about two-thirds of the final two pages of his dinosaur book, which was four sentences long. Pretty good! What's interesting is which words he skipped over, and which words he swapped out for other ones.




Now, this was about the fifth take of this we'd tried tonight, because of my own ineptitude with our new camera, and he was rushing a bit. But he did it again slower later and it's easier to understand ... although without seeing the words in front of you, you probably won't understand much of what he's saying.



It's fascinating to watch. Given that he doesn't really have total command over all 26 letters or their relationship to one another, there's no way he could be "reading" those pages. So does that mean he "memorized" the text? Or did he just pick it up from others reading it to him? Keep in mind, this is a book he got for Christmas, not one that we've read 300 times like Goodnight Moon.

Pillow Car

While watching your child grow up, you find yourself wondering when you'll notice certain milestones. When will he show an interest in sitting and watching sporting events? When will he count to 20 without missing 13, 14, 16, 17, and 19? When will he show creativity?

Will has definitely shown the latter. Take tonight. We were just putzing around the living room when he told me to come check out his pillow car. What in the world is a pillow car? This is a pillow car.



Isn't that awesome?

The downside to the creative brain of a child is this declaration: "Daddy, I decided what the baby's name is going to be. The baby's name is going to be Guido."

What a difference a year makes

Might be a bit late for a holiday post, but ...

Our new camera, the Canon PowerShot SD750 Digital Elph, is awesome. It takes video every bit as good as that handheld video camera we got in the summer of '06 ... and crashed on us after about nine months of use. We missed out on some good video opportunities for about half a year, but still managed to record both of Will's Christmas programs at day care thus far. Compare 2007:



to 2006:

Pre-school procrastination

Procrastination is one of those horrifying traits that I'm hoping desperately not to pass along to my children. Scott seems to have an innate ability to schedule in even the most unpleasant of tasks so that they get done and it takes as little time as possible. Not so with me ... and it seems, not so much with Will.

A few weeks ago, I was on the phone with my dad when Will called from the bathroom, "I'm du-un!" I explained to my dad that this is Will-speak for, "I've just gone poop, now please wipe my bumper." My dad said, "I know, he was doing that when I was there in May and October." Scott and I haven't been too concerned about it, expect maybe once last May when his daycare teachers commented how they were impressed that he could wipe by himself. We sort of looked at each other and thought, "He can?" Then we quickly started figuring that he just didn't poop at daycare ... he must save those goodies for us.

Well, here we are, at least 8 months later and Will's still calling, "I'm du-un!" So, we've decided on a full-force, "Try to wipe your own bumper policy." Unfortunately, Will has a million excuses. We've heard everything from, "My arms don't reach" to "But I'll use so much paper!" Tonight was his grand-daddy excuse. "I'll wipe own bumper when I'm a big brother. I can't do it until then."

Wasn't sure how to respond to that ... it's probably pretty natural for him to want to hang on to a bit of his babyhood while he still can. Of course, that may be another trait he gets from me. Tonight, after his bath, he put on his own pajama bottoms and top ... it was me who covered him in Johnson's baby lotion first.

The Name Game

Scott and I didn't want to tell Will about the baby too soon, but it was almost like he sensed something this fall. Sitting in a bathtub full of bubbles, he says, "Mommy, we should get a baby." He said it so casually, I almost thought he meant "puppy," but, he repeated that he was ready to be a "big 'brudder.'"
Giddy with my secret and unsure how to proceed, I continued the conversation as if he had said "puppy."
"Really? Should we get a boy or a girl baby?"
"A girl," he said.
"What should be name her?"
hhmmm ... little wheels start turning and finally: "Tennessee"
"Tennessee? Really? That's beautiful. But, what if we have a boy? Then what name would you like?"
hhmmm ... tongue hits the upper lip in a look of concentration: "If it's a boy, I think 'Lightning Shoes.'"

"Wow, Will! Those are great names ... we'll have to remember those if we get a baby." (tee-hee)

Anyone who has ever met Will knows that he is absolutely in love with his first and last name. An unsuspecting person could get their head bit off by calling him "Will" instead of "Will Tappa." We're unclear where this began, but we think it may have been because he got in trouble a lot at daycare at a formative age, "Will Tappa! Don't step on babies' heads!"

Anyway, now that Will is in on the secret, he's been coming up with even more possibilities. His inspiration has sometimes been obvious: "Santa" during Christmas, "Hamburger" (pronounced "hangaber") while eating dinner, and "Will" (but not "Will Tappa" because "that's my name") when he was feeling a bit less creative. A few of his teachers at daycare were told his latest baffling pitch before I heard it ... they broached the subject a bit awkwardly, asking, "So, you're having a boy? And his name is going to be Walter?"
Oh, boy.
"Will? Did you tell your teachers that our baby's name is going to be 'Walter?'"
"No, I didn't say that. His name is going to be 'Walter Forever.'"
Oh, of course. I'm going to have another child who demands a two-name moniker. Regardless, I think it's going to be a few months before Will's willing to share "Tappa."

3-year-old philosophy major

I think Scott and I always knew Will was going to ask where babies came from, but somehow we were still a little shocked when, about a month ago, he asked Scott, "Where are babies BEFORE they're in Mommy's tummy?" Poor Scott, alone in the car with Will on the way to the laundromat, answered the best he could, "I don't know ... just floating in space or something."

Of course, Will took awhile to process Scott's answer and then told me later, "Mommy, guess what? Daddy told me babies are dead before they're born."

What??
Scott??

Daddy quickly interjected, "No I didn't! I didn't say that!"
Will refused to back down, "Yes, you did! You said that when we were doing laundry."

Sheepishly, Scott told me, "I wasn't prepared, I freaked out! This isn't a question 3-year-old's ask ... it's a question for second-year philosophy majors!"

OK. Damage control ... "floating in space" becomes "with God and family in heaven" ... and we're good.

But, no, Will needs more answers. After a conversation involving everything from the logistics of travel from heaven to Mommy's belly and back again, Will finally seemed appeased. He didn't mention it again until Sunday night when, out of the blue, he started singing this song:

Babies miss heaven,
babies miss heaven,
babies miss heaven
when they come down to earth.

There were a few more verses ... Will is big on "riffing" lyrics to traditional nursery rhyme-rhythms. The part that really got to me was when he sang about my brother, "Babies miss their uncle in heaven ..."

Sometimes I think Will isn't really listening, like when I have to tell him four+ times to take off his shoes or repeatedly ask him to sit down during dinner. But obviously he is listening, and this was a big reminder to always choose my words carefully.

W-I-L-L T-A-P-P-A

We all know that Will loves his name, and that he loves identifying the letters that make up his name. But before tonight, we didn't know that he could spell his name.

He was doodling around with some paper and a marker, drawing happy faces, when I asked him to draw a W. I was cutting the sleeves off an old University of Wisconsin shirt, and he used it as a guide for his first letter. Great start! we said, since we'd never seen him draw it successfully before. He then proceeded to draw the I and two L's without hesitation. We were so proud!

Then he said "Now I want to draw Tanner's name!" We convinced him to do Tappa, and he gave it his best before getting frustrated with the second A.
Here's his effort.



It was one of those moments that being a parent is all about.

Raising Tappas

Hello, and welcome to Raising Tappas, the online journal for me and my wife, Jana, to chronicle our adventures in parenting.

We've talked about setting something like this up for awhile now. Back when our son, Will, was an infant, I tried to send out weekly updates about his progress - would have been perfect for blog format. Jana is good about sending out Shutterfly albums of Will photos and humorous accompanying captions - perfect blog material.

Plus, Jana is 22 weeks pregnant with our second child, and it's been very interesting going through this the second time around, four years later. From finding out, to ultrasounds, to telling family, there's no shortage of good material.

And Will alone is good for about one story a day. We'll devote a later post to his suggested baby names.

We'll be posting here as often as possible, so check back frequently. But since I maintain 14 other blogs, and Jana is, you know, pregnant, we might not make it here every night.

Please leave your comments following posts that interest you - we want our family and friends to be part of this wonderful time in our lives.

Scott and Jana