Tonight's Darwin Awards Contestant

Tonight's contestant for future brain surgeon is 26-year-old Timothy Vandergrift of Norcross, Georgia.

Here was Timothy, driving down a local highway in the HOV Lane today. Uh-oh, Timothy sees police ahead, checking for people just like him.

Timothy thinks, I am driving on a suspended license too. Gee, just how can I be inconspicuous?

I know, I'll put my car in reverse and maybe nobody will notice me going backwards on the freeway!

Bad strategy. A chase ensued. Eventually, a Georgia State Patroleman spun Timothy into a tree.

Hardly An Open and Shut Case

You know that feeling you get when you're about to have a traffic accident? The one where everything slows down and it seems like an eternity until you hear the sickening crash, followed by the sound of crumpled metal and broken glass?

It was like that.

There I was, washing my clothes the other night. Rachel was in the bathroom, trying to merge butt with potty. The bathroom door was at a 45 degree angle, affording her some level of privacy.

As I loaded the washer, I noticed the door being pushed so it could be completely shut. For some reason, the red warning light went off in my head and I thought, "Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" in that slowed down voice that resembles a record played at too slow a speed. (You remember records, right?)

As I lunged for the door, it shut. I reached in vain to open it just a crack. My instincts were accurate. My child had just locked herself in the bathroom.

My wife wasn't home. She would be gone most of the night, singing in a chorale concert. It was just me and Rachel. Mano a toddler. Concerned father and short-attention spanned daughter.

Repeatedly, I urged Rachel to turn the lock in the doorknob. She turned the doorknob really well, just not the lock. It was like a bad cell phone call. It was obvious that I connected, but Rachel kept losing the cell as something else distracted her.

Earlier that afternoon, we had been to Arby's. She had been given a plastic safe with stickers inside. Toddlers love stickers. They'll stick them on things until the adhesive no longer works. Stickers wind up on the bottom of your socks, never to be seen again until they are wadded up and thrown in the trash, at which time they recover just enough adhesive to stick to your hand no matter how vehemently you shake it.

Anyway, I'm exhorting Rachel on the foyer side of the door. "Rachel, please, open the door! Please, open the door! Turn the knob!"

I see three little fingers sticking out the bottom of the door frame. "Here, daddy, have a sticker."

"Rachel, can you hear me? Focus! I need you to turn the lock in the doorknob so the door opens."

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"I want my sticker back."

I comply. I pass the sticker under the door, along with two illustrations on a yellow legal pad page. One shows the lock right to left; the other shows the lock up and down. "Honey, I need you to follow those pictures and turn the lock."

Brief silence. And then, "I have to go to the potty!"

Sigh. "Okay, you go to the potty." My voice raised. I was having a difficult time controlling the panic. "Then open the door!"

That got us nowhere. I went to our bedroom. Time to get out the tool kit. There was no other option. I had to put screwdrivers to doorknob and stage a dramatic rescue. I loosened the two screws and almost saw the doorknob fall onto the floor on the bathroom side. That would have been great, huh? I grabbed it and peered through the hole. I saw one blue eye looking back at me.

The next time I looked, Rachel was on her knees in the bathtub, using her bathtub markers to paint an exotic array of swirls and curlicues. First she had to go to the bathroom. Then she got to Van Gogh in the bathroom.

Anyway, I got the lock to pop and gained access to the bathroom. "Daddy!" exclaimed Rachel. "You found me!"

There were hugs, followed by conversation.

When my wife returned from the concert, I regaled her with the tale of our dramatic evening.

"Oh," Rebecca replied matter-of-factly. "She's done that before. You just have to pull on the knob real hard and the lock gives way."

That would have been really good to know about four hours earlier.

Steak N Shake

Thursday night, mommy had a dress rehearsal for a concert she was singing in Saturday evening. So it was daddy and daughter night.

I decided to take Rachel to one of her favorite hangouts (can you have a hangout at age 3?), Steak N Shake.

I decided I'd treat my yogurt addict to a mocha shake, chicken nuggets and fries. As we waited, she drank her water with a spoon. It seems like it would take longer than usual to quench your thirst that way, but it wasn't hurting anyone and was entertaining to watch.

About five minutes into the meal, my daughter turns to me and says, "I am working on a poopie diaper." However, I could tell the work was done, so we headed for the men's room.

Thankfully, Steak N Shake has a changing table and I laid her on top of it. As always, she turned her head toward the wall and started reading the letters embossed on the plastic. I decided when I was done with her, I was going to take care of my own bathroom needs.

Well, Rachel wasn't about to lay on the changing table. She wanted to sit on my lap while I took care of "business." And that's what she did, until she realized the latch didn't work in the stall and she could wander around the bathroom until it was time to return to our table or I grabbed her, which I wasn't in the position to do at the present time.

I wound up keeping her occupied by tearing off pieces of toilet paper and asking her to throw them away for me. That did the trick until we both washed our hands and returned to the table.

Rachel took about one bite out of her child's chicken finger platter and drank about half of her mocha shake when she announced, "My tummy doesn't hurt anymore."

So while I tried to figure out how I was going to carry out a diaper bag, two milkshakes, her box of leftovers and Rachel to the car, she went to the gumball machine. I told her the shake was enough sweets.

As I continued to ponder my blancing act, I heard a waitress say, "A quarter?" and I looked up. Rachel was trying to bum a quarter for gum. I rebuked her with a loud "No!" and went up front to pay the check.

By then, Rachel was trying to climb a barstool, so she could twirl from side to side. I sat next to her until she grew bored and walked to a high chair with wheels and demanded a ride around the waiting area. After a short ride, we left the restaurant.

"I don't want to go home," she told me. "I want a yogurt!"

TCBY was across the street. "You're not getting a yogurt," I replied. "You just had half a milkshake!"

Not even two-tenths of the way down the road, she tries something else. "I want to go to 11Alive" she states.

"Rachel, my office is 20 miles down the road! We are going home!"

We cross over the freeway to the other side. Rachel looks to her right and says, "I want to go to Best Buy!"

"Rachel, why would you want to go to Best Buy?"

"I want a Wiggles video!"

"Rachel, you got a Wiggles video and a Little People video for your birthday. You haven't even seen both of them yet. You got a lot for your birthday! I'm not getting you a video! Besides, I have to do laundry!"

"Daddy doesn't do laundry; mommy does laundry."

I then explained to her that roles in our house are not defined by gender. Daddies can do laundry too.

The ride home was uneventful from that point on.

Two days later, we are driving to my uncle's old apartment to pick up a couple of things. It's about a 35-45 minute drive one-way, so I stop my Arby's to pick up some lunch. Rachel asks for chicken nuggets.

After I order the kids' meal, I tell her I want to see her eat the chicken this time. "Two nights before, you took one bite and that was it. Are you going to eat it this time?" I asked.

"I'm not going to play with it" came the reply.

It looks like my sarcasm gene got passed on. What a relief!

Breaking News!

Something clicked today. For the first time, Rachel used the potty successfully. And a few hours later, she did it again. And then an hour or so later, again!

We're very pleased.

One more thing, she was having a conversation with my sister on the phone today and handed it back to me when she ran out of things to say. A short time later, she asked for the phone back and told Patty, "Welcome Back!" It was very cute.

Rachel Turns Three!

It's hard to believe, but our little girl turned three this past Wednesday. It seemed only natural to have a big celebration, because she, like my wife, gives gifts every day just by existing.

The Gala de Rachel began with a party with the other two-year-olds and the one three-year-old in her Butterfly class at the Temple Early Learning Center. All the other kids received a little toy car and a necklace (toddler bling!) We also served them cupcakes, chocolate or vanilla with blue or pink frosting. Frosting preferences pretty much went along gender lines.

By the time everyone had licked off the frosting, followed by bites of cake, the entire class looked like impressionist painters. Frosting patches were evident all around their lips, with chocolate or vanilla dough stuck to them.

And I'm sure all the other parents appreciated us sending their child home in the midst of a major sugar rush.

From there, we went to the Olive Garden. It was Rachel's choice. She loves the grouper there. Anyway, she tried to wander off, but when we told her she mich miss something, she quickly asked, "You mean my birthday cake?" Smart child!

She fell asleep on the way home and we didn't open her presents until evening. Her favorite, of course, is the one that makes the most noise. It's a Wiggles guitar that plays songs signifiying different characters when you press certain buttons...again and again and again and again.

Speaking of music, Rachel sings a lot now...and in three different languages. She's learning songs in Hebrew at school, knows a couple of German songs I sing to her and of course, there's English.

You have to love some of her lyrics though...

Itsy Bitsy Spider went out to rabbit's house,
Down came the rain and dried up all the rain,
And Itsy Bitsy Spider went to rabbit's house again.

Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream,
If you see an alligator,
Let him hear you scream.
(screams)

Actually, one of her teachers taught her that.

We've also been running back and forth to the nursing home where my Uncle Jimmy was. He got transferred to an assisted living facility the day before Rachel's birthday. Neither place is very exciting if you're a toddler.

My uncle may not be doing cartwheels either. The other day, he gave me the most backhanded compliment I'll probably ever hear. "Thanks for everything you've done...up to a certain point."

I bring this up for two reasons. We bought him some non-skid socks for the slick surface in his kitchen. I told my sister that now Uncle Jimmy can re-enact the scene in Risky Business when Tom Cruise slides in wearing his boxers. The image of an 84-year-old doing that...well, you had to be there.

The other funny story is when we were leaving the nursing home the other day. I need to preface this by reminding you how much my daughter looks like my wife.

A woman came in the front door with her dog. Rachel wanted to pet it, but approached it tentatively. The woman said it was okay and asked Rachel her name.

"My name is Rachel," she replied.

Referring to her dog, the woman said, "She goes by Lady..."

And Rachel replied, "I go by Mini-Me."

That's What It's All About!

My wife and child stopped by TCBY yesterday. They are frequent customers.
The manager, Curtis, walks up toward the front counter from the back of the store.
"Mr. Curtis!" exclaims Rachel.
Curtis asked how Rachel is doing.
"The CD player doesn't work!" Rachel replies. "I brooookkkkeeeee (three syllables) it. I can't hear the Hokey Pokey. I lovvvee the Hokey Pokey!"

Kids Say The Darndest Things

Happy New Year everyone! I hope 2006 brings each of you much joy, love and happiness.

As for resolutions, I need to resolve to do a better job maintaining a straight face when my daughter says something unexpected while I'm disciplining her.

Case in point...Rachel has a habit of dumping things on the floor and not picking up after herself. And when she dumps those items on the wooden floor of her playroom, the sound can be deafening.

A week or two ago, I could see that her plastic container of Legos was about to be tipped over.

I warned her. "Rachel, you'd better not dump those Legos! Rachel, you'd not dare dump those Legos! Rachel...."

(Loud crash and clatter)

"Rachel, why did you dump those Legos? I demand to hear an answer why you dumped those Legos when I expressly told you not to!"

She replied in a calm voice, "I'm not going to talk right now..."

I couldn't stop the grin from spreading over my face. I quickly tried to wipe it off and continued my tirade.

"Okay, I'm going to ask you again why you did that when I expressly told you not to! And you better tell me you're going to pick them up!"

"I'm going to tell you, 'No!'"

A second time, the grin spread across my face. Darn smart-mouth!

Every once in a while, though, she says something that makes me laugh out loud at a time when no discipline is involved.

Last night, we drove from my uncle's apartment in Smyrna to the assisted living place that is to be his new home. Rachel fell asleep about 15-20 minutes from the destination. So we let her continue to sleep while we unloaded furniture and other items and took them upstairs. Next, we park out front so we can go up and rearrange the furniture. It's about 8:30 at night and Rachel stumbles slightly as I lift her out of the back seat of the car and she says in a resigned, matter-of-fact tone, "I am NOT a morning person!"

Once everything was secured, we stopped at a barbecue/restaurant sports bar for dinner. Rachel stopped just short of the kitchen at one point and related that she wanted to work there. When asked by the wait staff whether she wanted to bus tables or talk to customers, Rachel declared her goal was to "make the pancakes."

We can't wait to hear whe she says next.