Candy everyone wants

The day before we left our mountain vacation, we drove along a winding mountain road to the very top of a smooth peak on the border of North Carolina and South Carolina. We were there to find and cut our Christmas tree.

As we milled about the tree farm, a golden retriever sidled up to Reilly and nuzzled her arm. Reilly laughed and gave her a pet. After choosing our tree the dog was still following us around, so I asked the owner of the tree farm who he belonged to. The man said that he didn't know, that he had seen the dog running around and that it had probably been dumped. The dog had no collar or identification, and though it was relatively clean, the dog was thin and I could feel his ribs when I bent down to pet him.

I told Shawn that we should take him home. She sort of did a double-take, knowing that impulsiveness is not my forte', but when she saw that I was serious, said, "Yes! Let's take him home!"

She asked Reilly what we would name him, and Reilly said, "Candy." This is actually a pretty high compliment from Reilly, considering that candy is her favorite thing.

We put the christmas tree on top of the truck, and Candy inside the truck, and told the tree farm man that we were going to take him with us. He said that it was a great idea, but that we might want to drive up the mountain a bit and check to see if anyone had lost him.

So, we drove up the mountain, past countless multi-million dollar estates, and finally came to a house that had a car out front. I got out and knocked on the door to the cabin, and a crazy old bat lady came out and said, "That's what's-his-name's dog. Barry. He does some of the electric and plumbing work around here. I'll call him. Hopefully he hasn't had too many beers yet and he can drive up and get Gomer--that's the dog's name. His other dog just got shot the other day from wandering around someone else's property. He'd just be sick if you took him."

She got ahold of the man and said he would meet us at the Christmas tree farm. When I got back in the truck, I said, "Well, the bad news is that this dog already has a name. It's Gomer." And when I said his name, the dog wagged his tail and looked up at me.

We drove down to the tree farm, and up pulled a beat-up pickup truck. In it was a scraggly man wearing a Gators hat. I let the dog out of the truck and the dog walked over with his tail between his legs. Gomer refused to get in the truck, and cowered when Barry drew near.

Reilly began to cry hysterically for Candy.

My dad summed up the situation best when he said, "We had a choice between doing the right thing, and doing the right thing."

Good luck, Candy. We'll miss you.

Like the guy in the wedding dress at Washington Square Park

This weekend at the Farmer's Market, I saw a woman—let's say she was 60—dressed in all white: white shirt, white pants, white hat, white sunglasses, and white shoes. Hanging from her hand was a white leash connected to a white stuffed dog that was standing on a white skateboard. She was weird and I loved her.

I loved her because she made downtown St. Petersburg feel a little more like a city—like The City. The market was mostly populated by the bland, safe people who make up the suburbs (including me), but when mixed with the homeless and punks and weirdoes, I truly felt like I was experiencing an urban moment, and it felt good.

Nearby, a Celtic band played, and Reilly spun herself in circles in appreciation of their music. Shawn and I stood on the pavement and absorbed it all, saying nothing. I looked back for the woman in white and saw her as she moved away, towing her dog on the skateboard, smiling at God knows what.

One if by day, two if by night

We returned from Salem last night. Having had a day to process our trip, here is my impression of that old city:

By day, Salem is a quaint, almost quintessential New England town, with a heavy dose of history. The streets and public spaces are immaculate and designed in such a way that tourists and locals alike might walk to their respective destinations. You will walk on brick sidewalks, cross cobblestone streets. You will see homes as old as the Declaration of Independence. Overall, you will enjoy a picturesque and historic city.

By night, Salem’s underbelly rolls to the forefront. Like New Orleans, there is a black magic counterculture that hides during the day, only seep from the cracks as the night falls. It is at this time that the history of Salem’s witch trials becomes personified in costumed, face-painted weirdo wannabe vampires and mystics. The strangeness is as funny as it is weird as it is downright creepy. In the same way that religious zealots scare me, so too do these witchy women.

My final recommendation would be to make Salem a daytrip only, unless you’re into sorcerers and the like. I’d also mention that you should avoid the week around Halloween, which one local called “the Mardi Gras of the Northeast.”

Bob Barker's newest venture

Today the family went to Weedon Island to do a little hiking amongst the palmettos and mangroves. Reilly held up like a champ, and though we carried her a bit of the way, she did much of the walking herself.


The only problem we ran into was the bugs. The "no-seeums" were having a bug buffet all over my body. To escape the microscopic biting flies, we decided to head into the nature center. As we came in the door, I realized my problem when I read this sign suggesting items one would need for a successful day on the trail:

Silly me, I had put on bug spray instead of bug spay.

Reilly, Reilley and Max

Yesterday afternoon we went over to the Peacock house for football and turkey. We were looking forward to hanging out because our friends Kristi and Cassius have a two and a half year old named Max, who is a big fan of Reilly. He even has a nickname for our daughter: “ReiGrace.” Max’s cousin Reilley was also over, who is four and a half. (Yes, there was some confusion when calling out to my daughter, in that I was often answered by two upturned faces.)

What was fascinating was watching Reilly Grace interacting with these “big kids.” She watched and listened to everything Reilley and Max did. When Reilley and Max jumped on the bed, Reilly Grace jumped on the bed. When they went to play in Max’s room, Reilly was invited too. Reilley was especially kind to our Reilly, involving her in their play, holding her hand, being her friend.

Hangin' in the diner

This morning, Reilly and I ventured back to the local diner for another father and daughter breakfast. We chose the same table, had the same waitress, and nearly the same breakfast, though this time I got Reilly rye toast instead of a biscuit. Reilly has been devouring bread lately, and after some trial and error, I've found she likes rye and pumpernickel best. When she was over at my mom's the other day, she was eating marble rye like it was going out of style.

Since it was so early, there were only a few other customers there--a table of two next to us and a bearded man at the bar. Reilly was on her best behavior this morning, which really means that I was giving her my undivided attention. For the majority of the time, I distracted her with my orange juice. Since Reilly eats so much fruit, we never give her fruit juice--it would be redundant. But on special occasions I go ahead and let her take some sips from my straw. She was enamoured with my orange juice, and it is funny--though we don't give her juice, she knew the word, and would point to my glass and command me for more "juisss."

Due to Reilly's quiet state and the relative emptiness of the diner, the place was relatively silent, which is why when the bearded man at the counter started yelling at the waitress, it jolted me out of my happy father and daughter moment. I could hear the man babbling something about "If you make me lose my job, I'll make you lose your job." The waitress was politely laughing at him, probably because she had no idea if this guy was kidding or serious. Unfortunately, the laughing enraged him, and she shouted, "Don't laugh at me!"

At this point I instinctively started to get up from my chair, but then I saw Reilly--hesitated--and sat back down. Normally, I would have got up and walked over to see if I couldn't help diffuse the situation, but with Reilly at the table with me, I was caught in a sort of quandary of responsibility. Help the waitress, or protect my daughter? By sitting back at the table, I showed you where my priorities are, but as I sat there, I was truly divided of mind.

(I should pause here and say that though I might be coming off as some sort of macho man here, I'm really not, and I've never been in a fight in my entire life, but at the same time, I'm not going to let some weird bearded dude physically harm the waitress.)

After the whole "Don't laugh at me!" line, and the dead silence that ensued in the restaurant, the bearded man realized he had gone too far, got up from his stool and left. I'm not quite sure if he paid his bill, which might have been the reason for the outburst in the first place.

A short time later, the male owner of the restaurant showed up, no doubt to protect the two waitresses and the matron behind the counter who clearly saw that if things got hairy, no one would come to help them.

When it is the parent who really needs the spanking

Last Sunday, Reilly and I headed out for our morning session at the local park, as we do every day. The park was very busy, and I was surprised to see that there were many fathers in attendance--a rarity around these parts. It wasn't until I overheard a conversation between two of these fathers that I realized what was going on:

"Wife made you take the kids out?
"Yeah. Gotta wear 'em out before football comes on."
"I hear ya."

It was a little sad for me to realize that the other dads were at the park almost as a punishment for the afternoon they were about to spend before the television. Even sadder was the fact that they weren't really playing with their kids, just sitting on a bench and watching them. One young girl asked her dad to ride the purple dinosaur with her. When he refused, she whined a little, and then he punished her for whining by making her sit on the bench with him. Sad.

At one point, I was watching Reilly as she "drove" the wheel bolted on to one of the playsets. As I stood there, a young girl (maybe five years old) came over and shoved Reilly off the wheel, causing her to fall.

Instinctively, I said, "No, no, no, young lady! That is NOT nice!"

Her father, who had witnessed the scene, rushed over, took her by the arm, and said, "You're going to get a spanking!" and proceeded to bend her over his knee, right there, and spank her ass.

Now, I'm not going to get into the whole spanking debate, but I will say that I have no intention of hitting my child, and that the whole scene made me feel very uncomfortable. I was so nonplussed that I lifted up Reilly and walked back to the car to go home. The whole way, I kept my eyes to the ground, not wanting to have the other fathers see how embarrassed I was.

Of them.

Rain Date

When the weather turns bad in Manhattan, most of the neighborhood nannies take their charges to Barnes & Noble. On a rainy or very hot day in the City, the children’s section of Barnes & Noble at Union Square could have up to two dozen children pulling books off shelves and pooping in their diapers. It’s pandemonium.

Today, the thunderstorms started early, so I decided to do the suburban version of the trip to Barnes and Noble and take Reilly to the mall. I rolled her around the cell phone kiosks, slowed down to sniff the soaps at Bath and Body Works, and even stopped to have lunch at the food court; I had Chick-Fil-A, and Reilly had Cheerios with milk.

As a whole, the mall was deserted. Being so used to the crowded sidewalks of Manhattan, it was a strange feeling to not have to maneuver around anyone. I just strolled straight down the concourse, the wheels of the Bugaboo humming on the smooth tile floor. As I cruised around the mall, I couldn’t help but wonder about the strange absence of other mothers and nannies. Was the square footage of their homes ample enough to keep their children busy on a rainy day in Florida, or was there some hideout that I was not yet aware of?

It wasn’t until I reached the west end of the mall that I found my answer. There, I came upon a 500 square foot children’s play zone, complete with cushioned benches that surrounded a spring-loaded carpet floor. Across the floor were the usual outdoor playground pieces: a slide, a tunnel, and a clubhouse. Since this play space was inside, it also came complete with books, toys, and other plastic playthings. There were at least a dozen mothers inside—and a few grandparents—all of them watching their kids as they ran madly across the floor.

I had conflicting feelings about the mall play zone. It seemed a little lame to be hanging out with my daughter at the mall, but at the same time, the air conditioning and the cushioned benches were nice. Reilly didn’t have the same misgivings, however; she was all smiles. She hit the ground running and didn’t stop until I carried her out of there an hour later, waving bye-bye to all her new friends.

You gotta run, run, run, run, run from the robbers…

Yesterday, Shawn and I stopped into Party City to pick up a few things for Reilly’s first birthday party. While we were there, we strolled down the toy isle. This was my first experience in the toy isle with a child, and it didn’t take long to realize why most parents avoid the toy isle at all costs.

Reilly wanted to touch everything, and to prove her earnestness, made every attempt to throw herself from her stroller. (I have been thankful on more than one occasion that our stroller has a three-point harness.) To appease her, I picked a red rubber ball off the shelf and handed it to her. The ball immediately went into Reilly’s mouth.

Shawn and I finished up our shopping and then paid for our items and left. We took 14th Street to 6th Avenue, turned downtown to 11th Street, where we crossed over to where 11th intersects with Greenwich Street. A block later, we met up with Brian and Chris, Shawn’s co-workers, for a coffee.

After the usual hand shakes and hellos, Brian started smothering Reilly and I turned to talk to Chris. He reached down into Reilly’s stroller and picked something up.

“Is this new?” he asked. He was holding the red rubber ball.

Shawn and I could only laugh. We’re such irresponsible parents, to be teaching our daughter to steal at such a young age. We should have at least waited until she was five.

A Proper Slide

There are two distinct parts of a trip with Reilly to Union Square Playground:

1) A swing on the swings
2) A slide on the slide

When I first introduced Reilly to the slide, she crawled right up to it and slid down head first. I wasn't a big fan of this technique, due to the probability of her eventually ramming her head into the ground.

Not long after, Reilly started to crawl up to the slide, slowly turn herself around, and then slide down feet first on her belly. Reilly learned this technique at daycare. In the "big kids room," where Reilly sometimes plays, there is a wooden playset that includes a slide. Amanda, the director there, mentioned that she had seen Reilly performing this trick and said that she was pretty smart for figuring it out. (Picture me beaming.)

Today, Reilly surprised me by crawling up to the slide, pushing herself up into a sitting position, and then zooming down in a proper, feet first slide. Luckily, I had my camera along--so--without further fatherly blabbing, here it is, in four frames:

Instead of the usual babble

This afternoon, Reilly and I met up with Seth to grab some falafel from Mamoun's. After we purchased our falafel sandwiches, we strolled back to his place so that I could watch the last episode of The Office. He'd been saving it for me on TiVo for over a month now.

After the show was over, I set down Reilly in front of me, and she started cruising along the edge of Seth and Cindy's coffee table. When she reached the edge, she held onto the table with one hand, and then extended her other hand to reach for Seth. Seth started to move toward her to pick her up, but I stopped him and told him to reach out too.

Reilly very calmly let go of the table, and took a step forward. And then ANOTHER step. AND THEN ANOTHER STEP!

Just like that, at age 11 months, 11 days, my baby became a walker. It was as exhilarating as it was sudden.

Next thing I know, she'll turn to me and instead of her usual babble, will say, "Daddy, do you think you could fix me a bottle?"

Art Appreciation

Yesterday afternoon, Reilly and I went to the playground at Washington Square Park while Shawn went to yoga. We spent most of our time at the swings, Reilly zooming back and forth in the cool city air and clapping her hands to show her satisfaction.

Now that Reilly is getting a bit older, we also spent some time on the actual playground. I held her hands as she walked around the area, exploring the playset. With her increased mobility, Reilly has also become more adventurous, and this time crawled up the three steps to the slide and slid down face first into my waiting arms.

At one point, I noticed that Reilly was staring over at the wooden benches that ring the playground. There was a small metal sculpture of a cat there, so I grabbed Reilly’s hands and we walked over to have a look at it. I couldn’t tell if she thought the cat was real, or if she just liked the shiny metal of the sculpture, but she ran her hands along the thing as if she was petting it. It was a very sweet moment.

Baby Steps

Yesterday, we spent a long day outside, enjoying the nice weather of Memorial Day weekend. After a bite to eat at the Mayrose with our friends Todd and Colleen, we returned to the apartment to give Reilly a nap. When we came to the last flight of stairs, Shawn, on an impulse, put Reilly down to see if she would try crawling up.

Ever the adventurous baby, Reilly tackled the task straight away...


With a little support from Mom, of course...


and to our surprise, made it to the top in no time at all.

If I had TIVO, this entry never would have existed

To begin with the background: Old Navy, the ubiquitous clothing store, is starting a nationwide hunt to find a new dog mascot for their company. They encourage people to submit pictures of their dogs online in the hopes that their mutt will be chosen as the next T-shirt wearing dog-wonder of the United States.

Last night, I was watching TV with Shawn when I saw a commercial for an “open call” for this contest right down the street in Union Square, slated for today. So, after running a few errands this morning, I strolled Reilly over to the park to check out all the dogs.

There were dogs and their owners lined up across the park, with orange water bowls interspersed every few feet to keep the dogs from getting dehydrated.

I walked Reilly up and down the line so that she could see all the hopeful pooches. She was chattering and bouncing in her seat with excitement. Reilly loves dogs, and the dogs, for their part, love her. It probably has to do with the fact that she almost always has a Cheerio stuck to the seat of her pants.

Going to the zoo, zoo, zoo...

When I asked Shawn last week what she wanted to do for Mother's Day, she was quick to answer: "Let's take Reilly to the Bronx Zoo." So, on Saturday we packed up the stroller and diaper bag and took the 5 Train to the Bronx. When we left Manhattan, it was overcast and chilly, but by the time we reached the zoo, the sky was blue and the sun was warming the air to a temperature worthy of short sleeves.



Just inside the front gate were the camel rides, where Reilly had her first encounter with an animal other than a dog, cat, or pigeon. She loved that camel so much that she cried when we wheeled away. Additional stops made less of an impression on her--the animals were either too far away or too still to catch her eye.

Then, we decided to give the children's zoo a try, and that is when Reilly came alive. First, we stopped by the petting zoo, where she met a llama, sheep, chickens, and the goat pictured below.

The highlight of the trip was when we went into the prairie dog section, where you could poke your head up in observation tubes and interact with the little critters. The prairie dogs were so social, they would come right up and scratch at the plastic tube. Reilly found this to be the silliest thing she had ever seen, and laughed wildly each time she was approached.

The best part was that the zoo was nearly empty. Being that the weather was poor in the morning, and that it was the day before Mother's Day, there were maybe only 1,000 people there. We never stood in a line, we never had to wait for the bathroom, and we even ate our lunch at a picnic area that was totally vacant. I think I can safely say that it was the best time we've ever had as a family, and a perfect way to celebrate Shawn's first Mother's Day.

Evidence that Reilly is indeed an Urban Baby

Yesterday, I took Reilly to the playground at Madison Square Park. As we were leaving, I noticed that the green was open. I parked the stroller under a tree and then parked Reilly in a sunny spot in the grass. Reilly's first reaction to the grass was confusion. She absolutely did not want to touch it.

What the hell is this stuff?

What do I do, Dad?

But eventually she decided it was safe, and carefully combed the prickly blades with her hand.