Monday, September 15, 2014
Monday, September 1, 2014
Coco's Cake II
Coco has become quite the baker these days. On Saturday this weekend, she helped Papa make the birthday cake for Margot and Flynn's birthday party and some banana bread as well. Then, the next day, she and Papa made sugar cookies with frosting and sprinkles.
But there is a bit of a story behind the cookies baked on Sunday . . ..
On Saturday night, as I was putting Cornelia to bed after the twins' birthday party, she asked about the birthday cake. She wanted a piece of cake. The cake she helped Papa make that day. Putting aside that it was bedtime and a piece of cake was out of the question, the cake was gone. Not because it had been eaten at the birthday party, but because Cornelia's dads had given the remains of the cake away.
It seemed an entirely reasonable thing to do at the time. At the end of the party half the cake was left; the cake was huge so half of a huge cake is a lot of cake. (See the picture below.) As the party was ending and the neighbors were leaving -- neighbors with multiple children of cake-eating age at home -- it seemed like a good idea to give the cake away rather than leave it in the house where Ken and I would have no willpower to resist consuming it in less than 48 hours. In the Wingard family, leftover desserts are slowly and surely consumed through a process called "straightening the edges." "Oh, I'll just straighten this edge of pie." or "Oh, look at the crooked edge of that cake. I better straighten that out." It's brilliant in its subtle innocence. Obviously, the cake had to be removed from the premises.
Alas, in our panic to get that half-of-a-huge-cake out of the house, we forgot that our own child who is of a cake-eating age and who had helped make that cake would sure want another piece of the cake. So, there I sat next to Cornelia's bed, looking at her and thinking of what to say . . . .
"Um, well, the cake is gone," I heard myself say.
Then it came. What I knew would come as soon as I knew I had to speak those words. First, the welling up of tears, then the outright crying and then finally the uncontrollable sobbing and wailing over the loss of the cake. My thoughts raced. "What have I done? How could I be so thoughtless? I gave away her cake! Cake I would have happily eaten with her. I am a horrible father. But it was Ken's fault after all! I didn't want to give away the cake. Papa made Daddy do it!"
Fortunately, before I could throw Ken under the bus for giving away the cake, he came into the room, assessed the situation and managed to change the course of the conversation. He started talking to Cornelia about the cake, and how she had helped make it and how much fun they had making it. Then -- before more talk of the lost cake resulted in more tears -- he seamlessly moved the conversation to the idea that they could make cookies together tomorrow. Miraculously, the tears were replaced by excitement at the prospect of making cookies. Cookies that would absolutely, definitely and most certainly not be given away.
But there is a bit of a story behind the cookies baked on Sunday . . ..
On Saturday night, as I was putting Cornelia to bed after the twins' birthday party, she asked about the birthday cake. She wanted a piece of cake. The cake she helped Papa make that day. Putting aside that it was bedtime and a piece of cake was out of the question, the cake was gone. Not because it had been eaten at the birthday party, but because Cornelia's dads had given the remains of the cake away.
It seemed an entirely reasonable thing to do at the time. At the end of the party half the cake was left; the cake was huge so half of a huge cake is a lot of cake. (See the picture below.) As the party was ending and the neighbors were leaving -- neighbors with multiple children of cake-eating age at home -- it seemed like a good idea to give the cake away rather than leave it in the house where Ken and I would have no willpower to resist consuming it in less than 48 hours. In the Wingard family, leftover desserts are slowly and surely consumed through a process called "straightening the edges." "Oh, I'll just straighten this edge of pie." or "Oh, look at the crooked edge of that cake. I better straighten that out." It's brilliant in its subtle innocence. Obviously, the cake had to be removed from the premises.
Alas, in our panic to get that half-of-a-huge-cake out of the house, we forgot that our own child who is of a cake-eating age and who had helped make that cake would sure want another piece of the cake. So, there I sat next to Cornelia's bed, looking at her and thinking of what to say . . . .
"Um, well, the cake is gone," I heard myself say.
Then it came. What I knew would come as soon as I knew I had to speak those words. First, the welling up of tears, then the outright crying and then finally the uncontrollable sobbing and wailing over the loss of the cake. My thoughts raced. "What have I done? How could I be so thoughtless? I gave away her cake! Cake I would have happily eaten with her. I am a horrible father. But it was Ken's fault after all! I didn't want to give away the cake. Papa made Daddy do it!"
Fortunately, before I could throw Ken under the bus for giving away the cake, he came into the room, assessed the situation and managed to change the course of the conversation. He started talking to Cornelia about the cake, and how she had helped make it and how much fun they had making it. Then -- before more talk of the lost cake resulted in more tears -- he seamlessly moved the conversation to the idea that they could make cookies together tomorrow. Miraculously, the tears were replaced by excitement at the prospect of making cookies. Cookies that would absolutely, definitely and most certainly not be given away.
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| The Cake |
Margot’s Firsts
Flynn
is getting a lot of “baby glory” right now since he was the first to crawl and the
first to take his first steps, etc. And
he’s certainly very, . . . um, . . . adventurous. Margot, on the other hand, is more quiet, more calm, more subdued. She often plays on her own – “far from the madding crowd” (i.e., her more boisterous brother and older sister -- and you will find her by herself closely studying a toy or whatever else she might have picked up, turning it over in her little hands. “I wonder what this does . . . .," she seems to be thinking. She’s definitely a thinker.
Her development has blossomed in subtle ways. For example, she now perceives the connections between objects and their functions. She picks up a hairbrush and touches it to her head. She picks up a shirt and puts it on top of her head. She picks up a bottle and gestures it toward your mouth, or she picks up a baby-wipe and waves it toward your face. She also waves back when you wave at her - sometimes.
This
weekend I gathered up in a single basket all the toys that will help her start to learn her colors
and shapes and how different pieces fit together, toys which until now have been scattered about the
house in pieces or up in Cornelia’s closet.
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| Margot and Papa, August 30, 2014 |
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Sunday, August 31, 2014
Flynn's Firsts
Flynn has had a lot of "firsts" in the last few weeks leading up to his first birthday last weekend. Here are a few highlights.
1. First steps. Flynn officially took his first steps on Friday, August 15th. Ken and I had just arrived at Grandma Mary's and Grandpa Roy's house where the kids had been vacationing for a month. Ken and I were there for the kids' last weekend and to take them home. (It was also my 30th high school reunion weekend. Bonus pictures included below.) We were barely into the house and Ken -- who had not seen the kids for a month -- was already testing the twins' walking skills; standing them up and seeing if they would take any steps for him. Flynn rose the challenge and took three steps while everyone was watching. (Can you say "show off!"? Because surely that's what Margot was thinking. I'm pretty sure she even rolled her eyes.)
2. First climb up the stairs. A week later, back in San Francisco, Flynn climbed the stairs all the way to the top for the first time -- with Coco gleefully urging him on from the top of the stairs the entire time. "Come on, Flynn! Come on!" Now he regularly makes a break for it any chance he gets and heads to the bottom of the stairs so he can make the long climb up. And I swear, even when I say in my best don't-you-dare tone, "Flyyynnn . . . ., I'm watching you!" he turns and gives me a look that pretty much says, "Yeah? So watch this!" And up he goes.
3. First item out of a second-story window. I should've seen this one coming. Coco is nearly three-and-half and has never thrown, pushed or dropped anything out a window. I somehow also doubt that Margot will do anything of the sort. Fynn, of course, is another story. One morning a week or so ago I was changing Margot, and Flynn was standing next to me. He was playing with a plastic sippy cup and was holding on to the window sill. The window was open about three inches. (Totally baby-safe. Trust me. I'm uber-paranoid about open windows.) As I glanced down, I saw him look out the opening -- which was about eye-level -- and push the sippy cup right out the window. I don't think he knew exactly what had happened, but since I reacted with so much surprise he was pretty pleased with whatever he had done.
4. First time spashing water in the toilet. My words to him:"Seriously, Flynn?"
Bonus pictures: My date to senior ball and me in 1984 and again in 2014. Her mom saved the dress . . . .
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| T-R-O-U-B-L-E |
2. First climb up the stairs. A week later, back in San Francisco, Flynn climbed the stairs all the way to the top for the first time -- with Coco gleefully urging him on from the top of the stairs the entire time. "Come on, Flynn! Come on!" Now he regularly makes a break for it any chance he gets and heads to the bottom of the stairs so he can make the long climb up. And I swear, even when I say in my best don't-you-dare tone, "Flyyynnn . . . ., I'm watching you!" he turns and gives me a look that pretty much says, "Yeah? So watch this!" And up he goes.
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| "Hey, Daddy! You watchin this?!" |
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| "You gotta bend your knees . . ." |
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| "Hey Margot! Learn from the master!" |
4. First time spashing water in the toilet. My words to him:"Seriously, Flynn?"
 |
 |
| Flynn and Daddy, August 30, 2014 |
Bonus pictures: My date to senior ball and me in 1984 and again in 2014. Her mom saved the dress . . . .
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Summer Camp 2014
Cornelia,
Margot and Flynn are away at summer camp – four weeks at Grandpa Roy and Grandma Mary’s
house in Port Angeles.
Just like she was last year, Cornelia is quite busy every day helping grandpa with the yard work, raking and picking up pine cones, and of course keeping the driveway swept up and the birdfeeder filled. She gets out and about with Grandpa for a bike ride once the work is done. Grandma arranged for private swimming lessons twice a week for all four weeks and Coco is doing really well, according to the reports I'm getting.
Margot and Flynn are busy too – they are mostly focused on trying to walk. Grandpa and Grandma are busy every day doing the “finger walk” thing around the house. The twins are also having fun splashing around in the wading pool when the weather is nice enough. (The west end of Port Angeles is a bit like the west side of San Francisco -- it can be a bit foggy and chilly even in the summer time.)
We also made the annual weekend trek to Moxee to introduce Margot and Flynn to the Walsh clan. Scott even flew up from Denver for the weekend as well.
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Just like she was last year, Cornelia is quite busy every day helping grandpa with the yard work, raking and picking up pine cones, and of course keeping the driveway swept up and the birdfeeder filled. She gets out and about with Grandpa for a bike ride once the work is done. Grandma arranged for private swimming lessons twice a week for all four weeks and Coco is doing really well, according to the reports I'm getting.
Margot and Flynn are busy too – they are mostly focused on trying to walk. Grandpa and Grandma are busy every day doing the “finger walk” thing around the house. The twins are also having fun splashing around in the wading pool when the weather is nice enough. (The west end of Port Angeles is a bit like the west side of San Francisco -- it can be a bit foggy and chilly even in the summer time.)
We also made the annual weekend trek to Moxee to introduce Margot and Flynn to the Walsh clan. Scott even flew up from Denver for the weekend as well.
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| Nothing like a three-year-old and power tools. |
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| Taking a break from the morning chores. |
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| "To the park, Grandpa!" |
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| Craft time with Grandma. (Uh, did I just use "Grandma" and "craft" in the same sentence. My, how times have changed . . .) |
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| So, Margot and Flynn were not so keen on Uncle Scott. |
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| East Beach, Lake Crescent |
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Flynn and Margot at Ten Months
Flynn
and Margot are now in their tenth month.
They
both started crawling in late May and are now really on the move. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, Flynn
had been trying to crawl from some time – at least six weeks or so before he
finally managed to get some forward movement – while Margot observed his
efforts with only mild curiosity. Yet,
much to our surprise, they both started crawling at the same time. Margot must have been practicing secretly at
night when everyone else was asleep.
Flynn, it’s no surprise, crawls like he’s an ATV. He crawls up and over things – his toys,
Margot, Daddy and Papa – whatever obstacle might offer some interesting terrain
to explore. He doesn’t seem to mind the
head-bonks he sometimes gets when coming down the other side. Maybe Flynn will carry on the Gotham family
tradition of “Jeeping” in the backcountry.
I may have to call cousin JW and put “dibs” on the 1974 CJ-5 Jeep that
has passed from Dad to Scott to JW, so that Flynn gets it someday.
Margot,
unlike Flynn, crawls to get somewhere, to reach a toy, or to reach Daddy and
Papa.
I suspect both of them will be walking soon enough. In fact, I think they’ll be walking by the time they finish their month-long stay with Grandma Mary and Grandpa Roy this summer.
Flynn is quite good at pulling himself
up. In fact, a few weeks ago, he managed
to stand up in his crib for the first time.
It was early morning and Ken was in bed.
Ken heard Flynn moving about in his crib, looked over and saw Flynn’s
head pop up over the side of the crib.
It was like someone coming up for air at the edge of a swimming
pool. As you can imagine, Flynn was
quite pleased with himself. (Flynn is
almost always pleased with himself.) I’m
sure if he could have talked he would have shouted “I’m king of the world!” a la Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.
Since then, he insists on being vertical constantly. Unfortunately, he is not so good at sitting
back down, so he is regularly stuck standing, clinging to something and crying
for someone to help him sit back down.
He is also very good at “finger-walking” – grabbing Daddy's or Papa’s
fingers so he can practice walking around the house (and around, and around . .
. .).
Margot has not yet mastered the art of pulling herself up so she can stand but she is working hard at it. She is leading the pair in other areas, however. She has her two front teeth, while Flynn doesn’t have any teeth yet (although they’re coming). Margot is better at the self-feeding thing. Put her in her high chair and she will get a higher proportion of Cheerios and banana slices into her mouth than Flynn will. She also seems to be recognizing the hand signs for “food” and for “more” more readily than Flynn. (Or maybe she just finds it hilarious when I stand in front of her with Cheerios in my hand, grinning and gesturing at her.)
Margot
and Flynn are now actively playing, mostly grabbing toys, waving them around
and banging them on any handy hard surface.
And they’re definitely playing together, although usually it’s just
crawling over one another to get somewhere and taking toys away from each other. That doesn’t usually result in tears,
although I’m sure it will soon enough; once they learn the concept of “mine!”
They
both started crawling in late May and are now really on the move. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, Flynn
had been trying to crawl from some time – at least six weeks or so before he
finally managed to get some forward movement – while Margot observed his
efforts with only mild curiosity. Yet,
much to our surprise, they both started crawling at the same time. Margot must have been practicing secretly at
night when everyone else was asleep.
Flynn, it’s no surprise, crawls like he’s an ATV. He crawls up and over things – his toys,
Margot, Daddy and Papa – whatever obstacle might offer some interesting terrain
to explore. He doesn’t seem to mind the
head-bonks he sometimes gets when coming down the other side. Maybe Flynn will carry on the Gotham family
tradition of “Jeeping” in the backcountry.
I may have to call cousin JW and put “dibs” on the 1974 CJ-5 Jeep that
has passed from Dad to Scott to JW, so that Flynn gets it someday.Margot,
unlike Flynn, crawls to get somewhere, to reach a toy, or to reach Daddy and
Papa. I suspect both of them will be walking soon enough. In fact, I think they’ll be walking by the time they finish their month-long stay with Grandma Mary and Grandpa Roy this summer.
Flynn is quite good at pulling himself
up. In fact, a few weeks ago, he managed
to stand up in his crib for the first time.
It was early morning and Ken was in bed.
Ken heard Flynn moving about in his crib, looked over and saw Flynn’s
head pop up over the side of the crib.
It was like someone coming up for air at the edge of a swimming
pool. As you can imagine, Flynn was
quite pleased with himself. (Flynn is
almost always pleased with himself.) I’m
sure if he could have talked he would have shouted “I’m king of the world!” a la Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.
 |
| "Help! I'm standing and I can't sit down!" |
Margot has not yet mastered the art of pulling herself up so she can stand but she is working hard at it. She is leading the pair in other areas, however. She has her two front teeth, while Flynn doesn’t have any teeth yet (although they’re coming). Margot is better at the self-feeding thing. Put her in her high chair and she will get a higher proportion of Cheerios and banana slices into her mouth than Flynn will. She also seems to be recognizing the hand signs for “food” and for “more” more readily than Flynn. (Or maybe she just finds it hilarious when I stand in front of her with Cheerios in my hand, grinning and gesturing at her.)
 |
| "Daddy, stop waving your hands around and just give us the Cheerios." |
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| The double stroller with the "kickboard" in the back for Coco to stand on. |
 |
| Teamwork! |
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| Swinging at Duboce Park. |
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| Flynn: "Would someone help me sit down, please!" |
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| Margot: "Would someone help him sit down, please?" |
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Postcards from Puerto Vallarta
We are on our first vacation as a family of five, spending a week in Puerto Vallarta. We've rented a house with friends Joe and Kenny and their two-year-old son Elliot, friends Bruce and John from New York, and friends Jon and Crosby from Washington, DC. The house is across the street from the beach (and Blue Chairs for those of you who know PV). We arrived on Sunday and we've spent most our time relaxing and napping (and I don't mean just the kids), spending a lot of time in the pool and some time at the beach, and enjoying some really amazing
food prepared by the house staff.
Traveling with three kids essentially under the age of three is a bit of an undertaking as you might imagine. Our luggage included three suitcases, three Pak-n-Plays, two car seats, a diaper bag and two computer bags - and of course two children strapped to our chests. One does begin to feel a bit like a packmule.
Before Ken starts telling the story of our flight to PV, I want to document the truth. Yes, I flew in First Class. Yes, Ken flew in coach, nearly at the back of the plane in Row 31. Yes, I had Margot on my lap, the easiest of the three children. And, yes, Ken had Flynn on his lap and Coco next to him. And, yes, I did stroll back (all the way back to Row 31) to visit Ken in coach and, yes, Flynn was squirming and squawking.
However, lest ye judge me, before we got on the plane I did offer Ken the seat in First Class. He responded -- and I quote -- "Honey, you know I can manage two children better than you can, and you know you need this vacation more than I do. You can take the First Class seat as long as you promise to have a cocktail on the flight." Ken's first two statements are true and I did have two cocktails in First Class.
Time in the pool at the house has been great. Although Coco took swimming lessons last year with her grandpa Roy in Savannah and with her grandma Mary in Port Angeles, she has been quite cautious around the water this week. She wades around and plays on the pool steps and will take rides around the pool, but isn't keen on doing much more than that. Elliott, on the other hand, is like a frog in the water. He loves to be in the water, under the water, jumping into the water. Margot and Flynn have been in the water as well and are very happy to be carried, bounced and floated around the pool.
food prepared by the house staff.
 |
| Greetings from SFO! |
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| Coco on the SFO long-term parking shuttle. |
Before Ken starts telling the story of our flight to PV, I want to document the truth. Yes, I flew in First Class. Yes, Ken flew in coach, nearly at the back of the plane in Row 31. Yes, I had Margot on my lap, the easiest of the three children. And, yes, Ken had Flynn on his lap and Coco next to him. And, yes, I did stroll back (all the way back to Row 31) to visit Ken in coach and, yes, Flynn was squirming and squawking.
However, lest ye judge me, before we got on the plane I did offer Ken the seat in First Class. He responded -- and I quote -- "Honey, you know I can manage two children better than you can, and you know you need this vacation more than I do. You can take the First Class seat as long as you promise to have a cocktail on the flight." Ken's first two statements are true and I did have two cocktails in First Class.
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| Papa and Margot. |
The beach is across the street and Coco and Elliot have had a good time at the beach each day. We have attempted the twins at the beach twice and both times it was a failure. The first time I think it was too close to bottle and nap time so we had to rush them back home. The second time I think it was too hot, too sandy and just too uncomfortable. Again, we had to rush them back home.
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| Coco and Elliott at the beach. |
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| The House Pool |
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| Papa, Flynn and Coco out for ice cream |
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| Obligatory photo of infant in sunglasses I. |
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| Obligatory photo of infant in sunglasses II. |
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