NSJ

Niko has reached the age (three) where he is mixing things he hears us say a lot in with his standard vocabulary. I’m not sure he always understands what he is saying, but it certainly is a riot to hear him say it.

Examples:

• You have got to be kidding me!?
• For crying out loud!!
• You’re always causing trouble dad
• I’m a little bit shy

He also still struggles with his “th” words which is adorable:

• Does anybody want to play wis me?
• I sink I’m getting a little bit tired
• What is dis?

Niko got a crazy amount of play-doh for christmas. When I see that many colors I think I should be able to build entire cities with it. Turns out my vision way exceeds my execution. Here is my entire repertoire of play-doh formations:

• Snake
• Pretzel (twist up the snake)
• Ball
• Snowman (three balls, stacked)
• Pancake (flatten the ball/snowman)
• Birthday cake (4-5 pancakes, stacked, with some giant candle like things that look more like tree trunks but could also be snakes)

I thought this limited set of options might be a problem until I realized Niko had no interest in actually shaping the play-doh. Anytime I would make something, he would ask me to make it back into a cylinder so he could organize them. I’m not good at organizing either. In fact, probably worse at organizing than making play-doh formations.

We switched to legos.

I’m a ski snob. There, I said it. A complete and total snob. This began at an early age. While I learned to ski on Michigan hills, I very quickly realized the glaciers had left us geographically challenged when it came to skiing. On the way home from our first ski trip to Colorado, I turned to my dad and precociously said, “How about we skip all the trips to MI ski areas and just go to CO once a year?” So I had always just assumed Niko’s first ski trip would be a Sladden/Richau affair and involve Vail or the equivalent. Jul recently pointed out that while this sounded like a great idea, perhaps we didn’t need to *wait* until we take a trip west. Chances are his first runs aren’t going to be tree skiing on the back bowls of Vail. Point Julie. So I left my snobbery at home and we took a quick trip to Mount Southington for his first ski lesson. There is something desperately adorable about bundling up a kid to go skiing. The necessary bulk added to keep them warm is so disproportionate to their size they end up looking and moving like a astronauts. My favorite part was the, “You are kidding right?” look on his face when we put him in his ski boots for the first time. (That’s right son, until you can afford to buy your own snowboard equipment, you are stuck in skis.) Overall the trip was a success. There were no bodily injuries and he didn’t end up hating skiing or me (both dangers of a first ski trip). The instructor was great and he had the two of us skiing together in no time, hula hoop and all.  He did cry all the way down our final run, which ended up being a good time to stop for both of us. My thighs couldn’t have handled one more ten minute “deep squat” on the slowest rope tow of all time.

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For the 13 years we lived in the bay area, my wife refused to call San Francisco the city. “There is only one The City and it sure as heck isn’t San Francisco,” she would say. So now that we have dug in out here on the east coast, I can finally say, we took Niko for his first trip to The City. We took the train to Grand Central and walked down 5th Ave through a sea of people. Then we hit FAO Schwartz and had dinner at La Bonne Soupe. He loved it, and so did we.

Niko got an introduction to sledding this last weekend and I got an introduction to “wow am I out of shape, running hills is hard.” He refused to leave until his lips were blue and teeth chattering at which point we forced a retreat to the house to warm up by the fire and slurp hot chocolate. I believe my wife would say, “this is the way winter is *suppose* to be.”

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Because moving walkways rock.

Giving Jul a well deserved week off, Niko came out with me on my trip to CA in November. During the day he kicked back with Grandma Pat who introduced him to ATVs, Hula Hooping in busy parking lots, and pool hopping. The two of them were like partners in crime sneaking into Jimboree classes and loitering around the Google campus (parking lots in particular…see earlier reference to Hula Hoops). I wasn’t sure how he was going to do in a hotel bed but he rolled with the change like a champ. I mean rolled literally. The kid was constantly in motion, migrating from one side of the bed to another. He would wake up at 4am and ask me if we could “play toys” and I would tell him definitely, once the sun rose.  Shockingly he would sit there for two hours waiting for the sun to rise at which point I would feel a tap, “Daee, the sun is up.” I can’t sit in one place for two hours at 35, much yet three, so I’m going with nature over nurture on this one.

The three of us ate mexican food every night and had a grand old time. Niko is in a (long) phase where “mommy” is #1 and “daee” is #10 somewhere below Sumo, Buzz, Woody, and Spiderman candy.  Its nothing I take personally, but having a week where I’m #1, where when he falls and skins his knee he asks for me, is nice even if it comes with a 4am play toy wake up call.

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I figure I better post some pictures of Niko’s third birthday before he turns four. His birthday was three days after we moved in, so it was more of a, “Here kid play with this box…happy birthday” kind of birthday. An unexpected benefit having all your stuff in storage for a year is old toys seem new and unpacking is like a birthday party. I had only installed a TV in Niko’s playroom (life without noggin would be unbearable) so this year will always be referred to as “that one party where we all had to huddle in Niko’s play room to watch the Giants’ game.”