first halloween

We had a costume for Prince Clementine in our hands the other day at Target, but we had to pass because we couldn't find the right size. That, and we realized that as a five-month old, his Halloween would have consisted of us dressing him up, taking him to his grandparents, followed by the four of us taking about three dozen pictures, followed by taking the costume off. So we passed.

For the record, he would have made a KILLER bee or a very funny chicken. Though the chicken outfit made it seem like the joke was on him.

five month annibirthdary

How PC has spent the last five months

* mastering the exersaucer
* learning to grab, pull, and deposit in the mouth (dogs included)
* staring back at gawking, adoring parents and grandparents
* discovering that the feet are connected to rest of body, and can be deposited in mouth
* charming strangers, especially elderly women
* nearly tripling in weight and adding 50 percent in height
* transitioning from vowel to consonant sounds
* laughing!
* being assertive--lunging toward and grabbing what and who he wants

potentially lanky additions: The Landino Bambino

"I've Been Working on the Railroad" has been running through my head today. What a song! We haven't sung it to PC yet, but there's time. I have many good memories of this song---the extended Achter family used to sing it together after big family dinners sometimes. Along with "Someone's In the Kitchen With Dinah."** With harmonies, of course.

Thinking about these singalongs, which still happen occasionally, brings to mind the wonderful news that Cousin Julie and Neil are expecting. Woohoo!

And they've got themselves a primo pre-natal nickname: The Landino Bambino. Look out, Prince Clementine!

Special thanks to my wonderful cousin for the hoodie PC wears in this picture. Here's wishing you health and happiness.

**after further review, it appears these songs are one in the same.

your favorite children's song

PC is being introduced to a pretty strange range of songs these days.

Yesterday's songs included:

**"I'm a Little Teapot," which plays out of a toy his grandma just bought
**A series of Radiohead tunes, played on guitar and sung by his dad
**our own creation, The "Stinkybutt" Song. This gets five plays per day.
**"Home on the Range" on guitar and sung. Easy and amusing. Grandpa's favorite.
**"Lift Every Voice And Sing," aka the Black National Anthem, sung by his parents in the car to soothe him

Clearly, given these selections, we're not qualified to be parents.

What's your favorite kid's song?

iChat

This is how PC looks on the Internet. In Milwaukee.

Photo Credit: John Jordan (the fool face in the corner)

maybe he'd like debating?

Today and tomorrow I'll be starting my day by judging college debates held on campus. About 200 two-person teams are in town for the annual event. Though I never debated on an official team, organized debate, or "The Activity," as it is sometimes called within the group, is quite a spectacle to behold, and one that I would be proud to see PC take up.

When I arrived this morning for the 8 am round, I noticed a couple things that make The Activity seem different. First off, the smokers. Elite debaters work hard, really hard, which sometimes requires not sleeping much, hence, nicotine addictions are abundant. The same can be said for caffeine and taurine-laced speed drinks, which are so popular that Red Bull sometimes sets up camp at tournaments and gives out free samples. No doubt, this is a compliment to college debaters, on the logic that if they drink Red Bull, so will other kids on university campuses. Why? Because so many debaters are such good students. Nike has been known to give free shoes to the best playground basketball players, too. The second thing I noticed was groups of three and four huddled together, discussing .... well, I don't know. These were coaches with their teams and gigantic tubs of evidence, doing last second preparation. I quickly realized that I should act like I wasn't paying attention to these huddles because I could have easily been an opposing coach eavesdropping for a competitive advantage. Which I wasn't.

Obviously smoking cigarettes and chugging energy drinks are not good reasons for any kid to debate. Nor do they typify the whole group. What does is caring about major public issues, and the willingness to devote serious amounts of time to researching those issues and to travel to as many as fifteen tournaments a year for the debates. Each debate lasts about two hours, and each team is in eight debates per tournament. Do the math. It's downright demanding to debate at the university level, just as demanding as any Division I sport is. These kids defy all your stereotypes that college students are lazy and apathetic, if ever that was true. The debates have to be tightly organized and the best teams are usually those who have not only the evidence to win, but the ability to speak convincingly, clearly, and with passion. It's not easy.

This year the national topic is a timely one: namely, should the United States step up constructive engagement in the Middle East? The possible angles for arguing either side are almost endless, and the good that can come out of researching and participating in The Activity equally infinite. PC could do so much worse than spend his weekends as these 400 students are.

At the end of two hours this morning I had learned a little about Iran (less than I'd have liked) and a little more about something called "critical cartography." My head was spinning but my decision was made: it was Fordham over George Mason by a hair.

daddy just needs to be daddy

You know how annoying it is when people talk about themselves in the third person. My favorite practitioner of the fine art of Third Person Speak is probably the NBA's Allen Iverson, who often refers to himself as AI, as when defending himself he'd say "AI just has to be AI." According to the Internets, the former baseball player Rickey Henderson was also really fond of the third person, as was the Presidential candidate Bob Dole.

Referring to oneself in the third person also happens to be hilarious, when done properly. Tonight I conducted an experiment and referred to myself only as Paul Achter for about two hours, which went on until C wanted to shoot me. The text messages I sent referring to myself in the third person went unreturned, and when I used it on the phone with my friend about seven times he never once called attention to what I was doing--no doubt to get me to stop. As it turns out that there's actually research about the psychological benefits of referring to yourself in the third person, which has something to do with creating distance between oneself and one's actions.

Parents and grandparents use the third person all of the time. We like calling ourselves mommy and daddy and so on, partly because it reminds us (especially as new parents) that we actually are parents now. As I type, C is reassuring the fussy boy: "momma is here." Earlier tonight we were at Sam's Club and as we turned the corner to face the massive floor-to-ceiling snack section I shouted, "Daddy's favorite aisle!"

I challenge you to refer to yourself only in the third person for as long as you can today. If you have the same experience I did, you'll notice that it's a lot more annoying to others if you use your full name than it is if you use a role.

Then again, if you want to call yourself "daddy" for awhile today, that could be pretty funny, too.

eating out

This picture (pardon my index finger, ahem....) was taken during one of the shortest trips to a restaurant we've had in recent memory. It was short not just because Mexico Restaurant serves your food incredibly fast, but because PC is in a weird stage when it comes to seating options. He's too big for a clip-out car seat anymore, which is too bad, because when he was tiny and fit in that thing, we could just unclip him, bring him in, and set him beside us as we ate. And he's still too small for a high chair proper, which has to do with general squirminess and an inability to hold himself upright for long periods of time without kickin' out the jams. Even though his neck muscles are more awesome than ever.

So, when we go out now, he has to sit in someone's lap for the duration. And it's usually C's, because she is much more practiced at eating-with-boy than his dad and because she seems to have more patience with it. I held him during part of this meal, but that ended when he grabbed the ground beef and cheese out of my taco and deposited it on the table.

Going out is still great, though, because total strangers come up to you and tell you how perfect your baby is.

all systems go

We met with Dr. P., MD yesterday for Stanley's four month visit. It was a pretty mundane, and very fast visit. And highly productive: he got four shots, there were measurements, and a conversation that addressed the measurements, his eating habits, and what to expect in terms of motor skills over the next few months. Though the boy will always be perfect in every way in our hearts, it's always nice to hear confirmation from someone with a fancy title.

He remains a tall boy--in the 97th percentile--and generally a proportioned one, with weight in the 80th or 85th percentile. Dr. P. again tantalized me with speculation that Stan would be 6'2" if he kept this up, which I love hearing, but which I also greeted with a good deal of skepticism. One of my friends was told his kid would be 6'4", and he ended up 5'11". So whatever. The important thing is that he and his mom are in a good groove. We had no assumptions that breast feeding would work out, but it has, and brilliantly.

We've posted a few more pics at PC's Flickr Site --- check them out!