Shannon Phillips

I added the Melissa & Doug Cutting Food Box (so he can play along when I’m cooking!) and some rainbow nesting bowls (because they’re pretty, and he still likes things that go into other things).

I kind of have it in the back of my mind that these will also be durable toys that would be good to have on hand if I end up starting my own daycare/preschool, about which, more later. I’ve just got a phone call that deserves its own new post!

Robin’s second birthday is now less than a month away; we’re planning to spend it, like we did his first, in Carson City with Nonna, Pappy, the Anti-Sara, and Robin’s great-grandma Elsie: except this time Nanita and Marqueño are also flying out to join us. I think Robin is old enough this time that he’ll like getting presents (unlike his first birthday, when he was much more interested in the packaging), but in complete sincerity I’m certain that his main delight will be in the attention of his extended family. Robin’s delighted reaction to the company of Sara, Melinda and Lindsey reminded us yet again that this boy loves having a big family around. It’s a real enduring regret of mine that we weren’t able to figure out a spot to settle that would bring us closer to relatives.

Meanwhile I am in very great danger of totally blowing the household budget on birthday presents. As we’ve already established, I’m not really great at separating out the things I desire for Robin with the things that I just, well, desire.

For instance, I just ordered an abacus. Although it has to do with teaching Robin math someday, this obviously isn’t really a birthday present; the birthday is just a convenient excuse. I also got a book on using it, and another book on “finger math,” which is derived from the abacus. I do think these are neat tools for teaching math, and although Robin won’t be ready for them for years, I have to learn them before I can use them in teaching him! But, for now, these are mostly presents for me. I also got some books on teaching music and art to small children, along with a nice beeswax crayon set (recommended by Melinda!) and a couple of “rhythm sticks” to add to our collection of simple instruments. And a picture book of “Diggers and Dumpers” (I, um, may be wanting to encourage Robin to play with his awesome trucks more), along with another Maurice Sendak book (Outside Over There), since Where the Wild Things Are is such a favorite.

But our main present for Robin this year is a bike. It was going to be a tricycle, but then I saw a couple of the older boys at the park tooling around on these funny little bikes without any pedals, variously called balance bikes, push bikes, or running bikes. I talked to one of the moms about them: she’s from Germany, and she says the advantage of these bikes is that they actually teach balance, unlike tricycles or bikes with training wheels; kids who grow up using these balance bikes are able to move to real bicycles much earlier. Apparently they’re very popular in European countries where bicycle riding is widespread, and teaching kids to ride is taken more seriously.

So I started doing some research online, comparing the reviews for balance bikes and tricycles, and it does seem like the consensus from parents is that tricycles are sort of lame: the kids are interested at first, but they’re awkward to pedal and can’t go very fast, and often the trike ends up being a bulky, expensive toy that doesn’t see a lot of use. The kinds of Flintstone-type cars that kids push with their feet are preferred, but the balance bikes are where the real excitement is. Kids on balance bikes have to wear helmets, because they can get to speeds approaching those of a real bike.

The highest-quality (and by far the most expensive) of these bikes is apparently the German-engineered Kokua Like-a-bike Jumper. This baby gets awesome reviews. Everyone who has one loves it. These are the bikes that Niels and Dino bring to the park. It looks like a great bike.

It also costs two hundred and seventy dollars. We’re not getting Robin this bike.

Luckily for our pocketbook, the Jumper is too big for Robin anyway; although it claims to be suitable for children ages 2 to 5, the lowest seat setting is still fourteen inches off the ground, and Robin’s inseam is only a foot. (Because the kids push with their feet, they have to be able to reach the ground while sitting on the bike.) So we’re getting the smaller Strider for a third of the price.

I’m super excited about it. My son’s first bike! Robin has demonstrated a lot of interest in the bikes that Niels and Dino ride, so I think he’ll be into the Strider. I hope so, anyway. After all, at least one of these presents should really be for him and not for me!

Yesterday’s veggie box held: broccoli, carrots, four little eggplants, lots of little sweet peppers, a big bag of grapes, five peaches, three tomatoes (yay!), three zucchini, and two cucumbers.

Robin has already eaten almost all the grapes.

Last night we were lucky enough to see the Anti-Sara and two members of the Phillips extended family we hadn’t yet had the opportunity to meet: Melinda and her lovely daughter Lindsay. We had them over for dinner—I made grilled sausages and peppers, a big salad (using the broccoli, carrots, and cucumbers, with homemade avocado ranch dressing), and a peach cobbler. Everything came out all right but the sausages took forever to grill on our little George Foreman grill, so we had a very long dinner served in several courses. It’s, uh, sophisticated and European? Anyway, it was nice to have all this lovely fresh produce on hand when we were having guests.

Robin, by the way, adores all the relatives but especially Lindsay, who he went really a bit crazy for. He would cackle like the Joker whenever she so much as looked his way. She was sweet enough to spend a lot of time playing with him, but as the night wore on and dinner went past Robin’s bedtime, he got more and more wound up, and eventually bit Lindsay twice in his mania.

The biting thing is worrying. Robin’s been biting Sam lately too. I don’t really get bitten, I think because my presence is soothing rather than exciting, and the biting happens when he’s really wound up. We’re using time-out as a response right now, but the discipline doesn’t seem to really take when he’s in that super-hyper state. I’m just hoping it doesn’t become a huge problem, because from what I’ve read online biting can be a really hard behavior to break. My inclination is mostly to try and keep him from getting into those manic states, but of course sometimes it’s hard to avoid.

Anyway, meal plan. Tonight I’ll make ratatouille over quinoa to finish up the remaining veggies. The weekend’s going to be busy; Saturday is my day with friends, and Sunday I’ve volunteered to help out at my local comic store, which is having a big event starring Neil Gaiman. My job is keep the crowds from trampling Neil in their excitement. There are going to be some big guys around to help with the crowd control if it comes to that: but I was drafted specifically to be “cute and charming” and try to keep the mood pleasant while everyone waits in an orderly fashion to have their books signed. It’s a fun job because I get to hang out near Neil the whole day, but I’m also a little bit nervous because, well, I want to do a good job. And as Brian (the store owner) said, “If someone tries to shoot him, I am sorry to say that you’ll be the one that has to try and stop the bullet with your bracelets.” So that’s a responsibility I take pretty seriously!

Anyway, I’m probably only cooking one of those days, and it’ll have to be something simple like pasta. We have some sausages left over, so maybe I’ll do pasta with sausage and some sort of spicy greens, spinach or broccoli rabe. Then on Monday, something seafood-y: I’ll have to see what they have at the fish counter. Oh, I think salmon is in season? So maybe salmon cakes with arugula or something.

Last weekend I got up early, leaving Robin and Sam asleep in the bed. I was first aware that Robin had awakened when I heard a gleeful “tikka tikka” (tickle tickle) coming from the bedroom. I stepped inside and saw Robin sitting on his daddy, tickling Sam’s belly. When he heard me come in he turned his head and said something that sounded a lot like “I tikka Da-Da!” Sam and I both traded amazed looks.

In retrospect, though, I’m inclined to be suspicious of the “I” there. We’ve never heard him use “I” before, or even refer to himself in any way (no “me poopy” or “Robin park” or anything like that). I think it may have just been a random baby exclamation, making the sentence something more like: “Aaaah! Tikka Da-Da!” Still, I’m counting “tikka da-da” as Robin’s first sentence.

Here’s a full list of Robin’s current vocabulary. These are words he uses consistently and demonstrates full understanding of their meaning. There are some others that I’m still on the fence about—we’ve only heard them once or twice, or he also says them in the wrong context—but these are all definitely words.

Ma-ma
Da-da
Yeah
No
Hi
Bye
Uh-oh
Tikka tikka
Poopy
Mmm!
Whee
Awww
Ewww
Doggie
Kitty
Meow

He also makes a sound to imitate a dog panting, and he used to moo like a cow when prompted, but his Fisher-Price farmhouse set broke and he hasn’t been mooing lately.

This list is growing quickly. Last week when I counted he only had thirteen words: he’s picked up “doggie” and “kitty” since then. Well, he’s been making a sound like “da-gi!” for a while, sometimes even while pointing at dogs, but it’s only in the past week that he’s refined it to the point where he says “doggie” while looking at dogs and not at other times. “Kitty” seemed to come out of nowhere at the same time that “doggie” solidified. Maybe he worked out that not all fuzzy creatures are doggies?

There are also other words he knows but doesn’t say: milk, shoes, ball, nose, park, etc; I can say “bring me your shoes” and he will, but he’s never said the word himself. So it’s hard to tell exactly how much he understands at this point; but he’s steadily expanding his vocabulary, which is so much fun to observe.

“Poopy,” by the way, is an interesting one. I was telling my mom—and didn’t quite realize the implications until I said it out loud—he rarely comes up to us shouting “poopy!” when he actually is. Instead, I’ve come to learn that I ought to check him ten or fifteen minutes later. He’s not telling me that his diaper needs changing; he’s telling me that he’s going to poop.

I mostly just thought of this as a funny quirk; it was only when I said it out loud that I realized he’s giving me perfect potty-training cues. He’s a little young for potty training (most kids, according to the baby book, are potty trained around two and a half) so I wasn’t thinking about it: but we do have a kid’s potty on hand and I might try offering it when he comes up telling me he needs to poop. We’ll see what happens.

Today’s box held a bag of peaches, a bag of nectarines, a pint of cherry tomatoes, a bunch of purple basil, two cucumbers, five big green-and-yellow pattypan squashes, two beets, two skinny heads of broccoli, two bunches of carrots, lots of little red sweet peppers, and a scant handful of okra. I truly hope that these five lonely okra pods are the trickle that heralds the deluge—I love okra, always have, it’s the Southern in me.

Tonight we’re having roast beef, with a side of squashes and okra sauteed with butter and salt. Tomorrow I need to finish up a pot of red beans and rice (I ended up making that last week instead of paella), so we’ll have that, maybe with cornbread. I have a zoo date with Wendy so I want to have dinner squared away anyway!

But I don’t want to let those tomatoes sit for too long, so Friday we’ll do a sort of villager’s salad with the tomatoes, cucumbers, basil, and maybe the peppers, roasted? I don’t know, I’ll have to research and decide on a specific recipe. I might get some sausages to make it a heartier meal.

Saturday I have plans with friends, so it’s probably delivery for dinner; Sunday we’ll have a chicken roasted with carrots and beets, and I’ll make chicken stock from what’s left of the carcass. If I get ambitious I’ll make a nectarine and blackberry crisp…but who am I kidding, Robin’s not going to let the nectarines last till Sunday.

Monday I might try out that buttermilk mac and cheese I was thinking about? We’ll see. Often these meal plans seem to go wonky towards the end of the week.

I’m going to save the broccoli for sticking into Sam’s bento. Wendy made the excellent suggestion that putting in crunchy vegetables (and maybe some dip) is a good way to fill up the bowls without including too much food. Sam isn’t going to be delighted with this plan, but he’s good about eating what’s set in front of him, and don’t raw vegetables cure cancer or something? I’ll make sure to include cookies on the crudité days, so he doesn’t feel like I’m sending him off with rabbit feed.

Oh, and Mom wanted the recipe for the tabouleh I posted a picture of the other day: so here it is.

Toss in a large bowl: 1/2 cup of medium-grind bulgur; the juice of two lemons; 1/3 cup of olive oil; a half teaspoon of salt; a pinch of cayenne pepper; a huge bunch of parsley (or two smaller ones) all chopped up; a couple of nice tomatoes (chopped); some fresh mint if you have it, or a heaping teaspoon of dried mint if you don’t (use 2-3 times as much fresh mint, and chop it up, or chiffonade it if you feel fancy); and a diced cucumber. These ingredients are fairly elastic; you can put in a cuke or a ‘mater more or less and it will come out about the same. You can put in scallions or minced red onion if you want (I think I did, that day). You can guesstimate the bulgur if you want. It’s really a forgiving recipe, and I say this as someone who generally measures the water when I boil pasta.

Let the bowl sit on the counter until the bulgur is softened and fluffy, about an hour. Then put it in the fridge and let it sit for another hour. Taste it and add salt and pepper, or even more lemon juice and/or oil, if you want. It should be very bright and tangy, and the vegetable to grain ratio should be about two to one.

A few weeks ago at the park Robin showed some interest in a dump truck that another child was playing with. He was easily distracted to another target, but I decided that it’s time for my little boy to have a dump truck of his own, so I went online and bought one.

I’m a fan of Green Toys, a San Francisco company that makes toys out of post-consumer recycled plastics (they’re all BPA and phthalate free), so I got the dump truck they make:

It’s fantastic. It’s much bigger and sturdier than the flimsy little plastic things other kids are bringing to the sandbox, and something about those rounded curves and cheerful colors makes it incredibly appealing. I love it. Other children love it too. They converge on this truck as if it were made out of cake every time we bring it to the park. They will push it around and load it up with sand and run it down the sidewalks and do all the things that I imagined Robin doing with his superior dump truck. I think they would probably play with the truck for hours if they were allowed. They always cry when their parents eventually take them away from it.

Meanwhile Robin has generally wandered off, because, truth be told, he’s not very interested in the truck.

I bring it with us anyway. I bring it because there’s some juvenile part of me that likes having the best truck in the sandbox, even if my kid never plays with it.

This isn’t the only toy I’ve ostensibly bought for Robin, only to discover that the one most pleased by it is me. I’m irresistibly drawn to wooden toys: sustainably-harvested, handmade, yadda yadda yadda. We have all these attractive, sturdy, old-fashioned pieces sitting in our home now gathering dust, because Robin spends his time almost exclusively playing with plastic beepy things made in China.

I mention all this because I think it’s funny, not because I’m planning on amending my purchasing habits or anything. Why would I do that? I’ve got all these awesome toys now!

Robin is such a big boy now, I can hardly believe it. Just look at him clambering up these monkey bars:

Here’s a close-up:

Yes, I did give him a rather unfortunate haircut. Don’t worry, it’ll grow out, and he doesn’t mind.

Another lovely, lovely vegetable box, even though there weren’t any tomatoes, which is sad. But we did get lots of fruit, and that’s always exciting: there was a bag each of peaches, nectarines, and apricots. I noticed as I was arranging them in our fruit bowl that the apricots were really very ripe: so I cut one up and gave it to Robin. He scarfed it down and instantly transformed into a demanding little monster who could only be satiated with apricots; he ate them all in one sitting and would have gone on to the nectarines if I hadn’t finally cut him off. I was afraid he might be ill but apparently his little tummy has no trouble processing great quantities of apricots.

We also got a bunch of purple basil, three red onions, about two pounds of potatoes, two bunches of carrots, a big head of broccoli, two cucumbers, a nice mix of summer squashes, and a lot of little green peppers. Last night we had burgers garnished with red onion slices; tonight we’ll have steak and pepper stir-fry, and I think Robin and I will eat the squashes for lunch. Tomorrow for dinner we’ll have a salad and chilled cream of carrot soup.

Saturday our friends Wendy and Zach are having a 4th of July BBQ: I can’t go, but I’m going to send the boys with a batch of potato salad made using the potatoes and red onions from our box. Sunday I think I’d like to make seafood paella; Monday, pasta of some description; and Tuesday, leftovers.

Also, inspired by Wendy’s beautiful bentos, I’ve started making Sam a lunch to take to work. I offered to do this a long time ago but he wasn’t very keen on the idea: he didn’t want to worry about food spilling in his backpack, and he liked going to restaurants with his coworkers for lunch.

A while ago, however, Sam got transferred into a different group where apparently people don’t have the same social lunch habits, and it got to the point where if I asked him what he had for lunch, the usual answer was “six cups of coffee and a Pop Tart from the vending machine.”

So I bought him a Mr. Bento lunch set, since for some reason he didn’t like the idea of taking his lunch in my awesome Batman lunch box that Nina gave me. You can tell Mr. Bento is serious and manly because it’s all grey and comes in a military-style canvas bag (although Sam’s came with a stainless steel spork instead of the chopsticks pictured).

It’s a little bit daunting filling the four bowls with four different things, but I bought stuff like cheese and crackers and cold cuts that I can use to fill up the bentos quickly, and then I round it out with leftovers or chopped up fruit. The first day Sam came home saying that he wasn’t going to be hungry for dinner because he had such a big lunch, which nearly nixed the whole enterprise, as I am absolutely not going to spend time fixing his lunch if it means he won’t eat my dinners! However Sam backed down from that position and so far the bento project is going pretty well. I might see about getting a smaller bento set, though.

Roughly in descending order of preference:

1. Fresh fruit
2. Butter (straight)
3. Pickles
4. Nutritious meals his mother has lovingly prepared, but only the portion of them residing on his daddy’s plate
5. Bread with butter / PB&J
6. Cereal with milk or yogurt
7. Whatever’s on mommy’s plate
8. Sand
9. Cat food
10. Soap
11. Nutritious meals his mother has lovingly prepared and served in his own plate or bowl

I am actually pleased with his developing palate: he’s fine with spicy food (very unlike me at his age!) and I’m charmed that he shares my love of pickles, olives, and other vinegary tastes. And even though I put a few things on the list above to be funny, the truth is that he doesn’t eat much sand or soap anymore. We still have to keep the cat food out of his reach though.

Here is a bonus picture of the tabouleh we are eating for lunch. Robin has his own but he has climbed into my lap to eat out of my bowl. I guess the parsley’s always greener on the other side of the table.

We’re feeling a little down today. Yesterday we learned that the latest house we made an offer on—a house we are both absolutely smitten with—had twenty five offers and ours came in second. We’re the backup. It’s a hard position to be in because we’re reluctant to move on so long as there’s any chance we might get this (fantastic) house…so we’re just left hanging. I encourage you all to help us out by sending your good karma and visualizing hopeful, positive things, such as an asteroid landing on the heads of the people who made the first-place offer.

This is our fifth offer. Interestingly, it’s only the second where we were actually outbid (assuming we were outbid; our agent suspects that the winning offer might be a lower price but an all-cash bid). We canceled our fourth offer when we discovered this house, we were outbid in Martinez, and the other two offers fell through on the sellers’ end. So it feels like we’ve been searching forever when in fact it’s mostly just that we’ve lost time dealing with short sale nonsense and incompetent listing agents. Still, we’re tired and dispirited.

At least it’s veggie day! We got a bag of white peaches, another bag full of nectarines, a big bunch of basil, two cucumbers, several pattypan squashes, about a pound (maybe more) of fingerling potatoes, a small bunch of carrots, two small stalks of broccoli, six heirloom tomatoes, and five little red onions. I love summer!

Tonight I bought a chicken and I plan to roast it with the potatoes. Tomorrow we’ll have a huge garden salad with ham and hardboiled eggs, and a nectarine and blackberry crisp for dessert. Friday I’ll make a fritatta incorporating the squash and whatever veggies survive the salad, and Saturday we can have spaghetti with pesto. Sunday, pan-fried salmon cakes; Monday, cheesy garlic soup and homemade bread. We’ll eat the peaches straight!