Daddy holding both of us.

I love making friends and having visitors.  I love it when my cousins visit me and play with me.  I love meeting people.  I knew this at a very young age when I had to distract people from thinking Momma was crazy for taking pictures of tree bark, door knobs, dirt or walls.  I mean, seriously, who takes THAT many pictures of a concrete wall?  This became about survival people.  Survival.  That’s when Momma started calling me Prince Charming and her little social butterfly.  She could learn a thing or two from me, that’s for sure.  That’s why I try to engage just about everyone I meet in stores, restaurants, banks, churches, and parks.

Anyway, you can imagine I was thrilled to have a new friend when Momma and Daddy introduced me to Lyla one day.  A new friend!    She is way smaller and younger than I am.  She can’t even sit up or walk!  Sheesh. What a baby.

Harvested oranges…I was just trying to help.

So we met her one day…and then visited her the next day.   And pretty much each day after I woke up for the morning, we talked about Lyla.  Lyla this, Lyla that.  Oh Lyla.  Baby Lyla.  Umm…HELLOOOO!!!????  I’m Nate.  Hey, look what I can do!  Walk- talk- read books- build things- dance- harvest oranges.  Do I need to keep going?   Fine, I’ll conjugate verbs; that should get your attention.   As if talking about Lyla all the time wasn’t enough, she started visiting at my house.  MY house.  I think she got lost, or her people forgot about her because she is STILL here!!!  What is she STILL doing here???   I mean, she’s not so bad.   She is really cute and all, but she doesn’t DO anything.  She is kind of blobby.  I tell her my best jokes, invite her to play with my cars, but she just blows bubbles and spits up and stares.  I tried to show Lyla how to play with my bouncy balls, but they kind of just bounced off her head.  What DOES she do??   Momma and Daddy have to pay attention to her a lot, but she is small enough that they can hold both of us.   I wonder how long she will be here?

She can’t even read!

I have so many plans! Big plans! Plans that get squashed like bananas in the couch.  Plans that get flattened like cereal puffs under my feet.  Plans that get tossed like the dirt I throw over my head.   Why?  Give me a second to calm myself before I answer…

My plans mostly don’t happen because I hear, “You don’t know how to do that.”, or worse, “You aren’t old enough yet, sweetie.”  Sweetie?  You wouldn’t call me that if you knew what I was thinking right now.  Hmmmph.

How am I supposed to learn how to do “that” if I don’t try?  I am not asking to drive the truck or anything…not this week.  I just want to climb a few things, take apart and rebuild Momma’s camera,  attempt flying with my super-hero-in-training cape, take photos to contribute to the website, start the fireplace, and give the dogs a bath.  Those are just SOME examples of my dashed dreams.  Instead, I get plastic toys, cardboard books, and blunt crayons.  Have you ever tried staying in the lines with huge, blunt crayons?  Impossible!! Simply impossible!!!  And I’m guessing Mommas feels threatened by the superb quality of my photos.

Here he comes to save the day! Super baby!

Momma is always encouraging me to try new things, but then she tells me I might get hurt when I propose MY plans.  Well it’s hurting me not to try!   Both Momma and Daddy tell me it is okay to make mistakes as long as I try.  Well, I think it’s a mistake to NOT let me try MY plans!  Hmmmphh…the audacity.  Momma says Daddy has gumption and he tries things he doesn’t know how to do all the time. How come he gets to but I don’t??? (They think I’m not listening.) Well, once I figured out gumption didn’t mean I have to go to the doctor, I realized I have it too!  What good is having gumption if I don’t get to use it?  What about MY plans?  Work with me people!

I’m not sure how many times I have to tell people that I’m a big boy now.  I mean, Daddy calls me a “little man”, so….yea.  I know a lot.  Like…a lot.  I know things people don’t think I know.  I watch everything.  That’s why I know Momma needs help with taking pictures.

So the other day, the big helper I am, well, there was nothing for me to do but help.  Momma was trying to get photos of the fur on our dogs, Ellie and Benson.   She calls them wiggle butts because they move so much and she could never get a good shot.  Really?  They move a lot???  I seem to remember them ALWAYS sleeping, but complaining about being dog-tired. Guess what they are doing now?  Oh, would you look at that!  They are sleeping.  I am so surprised. That was without sarcasm, by the way.  I’m too young to know about sarcasm.

Go ahead…tell me they could possibly be tired!!

Anyway, Momma really wanted to get these fur texture shots but was getting frustrated.  Since her camera is off limits (boooo!), I decided I would capture the fur in a more creative way.  When Momma turned her back, I carefully approached the lazy beasts.  I placed my hands on their sides, and when they picked up their heads, I pretended I was going to pet them, or hug them, or tickle them, or something.   They quickly returned to snoozing. Surprise, surprise.  I seized the opportunity and grabbed a handful of fur from each.  Luckily, they are shedding their winter coats so it came out pretty easily and they only seemed slightly startled!  I started a pile.  It grew.  Oooo, Momma was going to be so happy! I could see her joy now. Just imagine the pictures she could take!

When she turned around again, I beamed proudly.   She grabbed her head, made a strange shrieking noise, and loudly said, “Nathaniel!  Stop!  WHAT are you DOING????”  Uuhhhh…was that a trick question?  It had to be a trick question.  Clearly I was helping her!  By this time I was sitting on Benson’s neck for better leverage.  “Stop!”, she yelled again.  She rushed over so quickly, lifted me off Benson, and kept making strange noises while checking on the dogs and shaking her head. Why was she reacting out of proportion? What was her problem?  Had her lower brain hijacked her upper brain?  I was JUST trying to help…

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No, despite the title, I’m not going to break into song.  I haven’t even seen that movie yet. I’m talking about changing my view, the way I see things.  Again, folks…nothing deep here.  Give me a break, I’m only 18-months old.   I just mean that Momma and Daddy moved my caw seat.   Honking horns, it is so cool!!!!   I get to face forward AND I’m in the middle now, so I can see all the big twucks and caws and twees.  Oh man, I love caw rides now.   I just sing and talk about all the things outside.  Sometimes I get stuck on one word and Momma reminds me to move on because I sound like a little bird.  Hmmm…did she see a bird?    I even notice the girly flowers and twees, the sky, the cool old houses and barns, the rocks and mud, the wood fences.  I don’t just notice, I start to look for textures now. Metal…wood…metal…metal…flower…rock…metal…wood…wood…wood…twuck…twuck… twUCK…tWUCK…TWUCK!!!  Oh- sorry.    The cool drawings and words on the sides of twucks we pass are aMAZing.  It all makes me want to find my lame baby camera, or convince Momma to stop and take pictures with hers.  I get what all the fuss is about…kind of.  Don’t tell HER that though.   All the things and textures I see make me want to burst into spontaneous clapping and dancing, just like finding snacks in the couch cushions!   I feel over-stimulated, to say the least.   The excitement actually makes me sleepy, but I’ve decided nap times are an unfair idea created and mandated by adults who need routine and structure or they have tantrums.  Soooo many years of tears.   Okay…that’s for another day.

This is how I USED to feel about caw rides…

This is how I feel NOW about caw rides…

Seriously people, if you want to change your view point, just spend about 17 months crunched up and facing backwards in a caw…then turn around.  Look at the world.   Holy bananas- it’s a world to take pictures of…every detail!!   It’s a whole NEW world.  Every turn is a surprise, with unbelievable sights and indescribable feelings!   Wait, that sounds like a song.  Hmmm. Hmm -hmm-hmmm-hummmm-hmmmmm.

Momma often says she is dog-tired. I’m not sure about that, or even what it means. As far as I can tell, a dog’s life is easy and full of sleep. How can you be tired with that much sleep? Why would you want to sleep so much? I know I don’t!! There is too much to do and too much to see. Papa and Gram’s dogs are the perfect examples. The big one, Luther, who is really more like a moo- cow than a dog, sleeps a lot. Iris, the little one who is more like a kitty, sure tries to win by sleeping more. They sleep inside, outside, in the shade, in the sun, on the floor, on the couch, together, alone… everywhere and anywhere.
Papa takes them outside to run in the afternoon, and sometimes I get to see this if I am visiting. Actually, Papa takes me outside to run too! He’s super fun like that being a retired super hero and all. That’s how I learned about expo…epo…ag…sposy…oh yea… exposed aggregate (whew, that is a mouth full). When Papa takes me outside, I play with dirt, glorious dirt, and get to smell all the spring flowers. Papa has me touch the bricks around their outside bathtub thingys, the wood on their deck, the moss, the different plant leaves and the side of their house. He tells me about the different textures and says Momma would take pictures of them if she could! Oh man. What DOESN’T she take pictures of?
Of course, when we round the corner, there are those dogs sleeping. Again, I ask, how can anyone be dog tired if they sleep this much? Don’t these dogs know how much they are missing? I point to Luther and say, “Cow!”…and Papa laughs while saying, “Luther isn’t a cow silly. Cows go ‘Moooooo’, and Luther goes ‘Woof’. I know he looks like a cow because he is so big, but he is a doggy!” Could have fooled me. Luther is even black and white like the cows I know. Whatever, Papa will figure it out someday. He clearly has been retired too long. Papa says we have to go back inside for a snack, so we head back to the house.
Being the helper that I am, I decided to bring the textures to Momma that I had just discovered with Papa. So I pulled the flowers and leaves off the plants, grabbed the moss on the bricks, and filled my hands with dirt. I put them all in my pockets. I ran out of room in both pockets so considered putting some things in my mouth, but then Gram discovered my plan when I got inside. She called me a stinker, but my diaper was clean! I was just trying to help! I am sooooo misunderstood. So misunderstood. Maybe I should just go sleep with the dogs.

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