Trip to the Zoo

With the two older boys vacationing Up North with their grandparents, Old Wahoo and Mrs. Wahoo decided things were too calm at home so we took the Moose to the zoo. Remarkably, the zoo, despite hordes of school buses and filled with animals, was less wild than our home.
By the way, we think the Detroit Zoo is fantastic. The polar bear exhibit is first-rate, and we like the Outback Station where visitors can walk with the kangaroos.

Playground Periscope

Whenever the Moose hits the playground, my blood pressure ticks up a couple of notches. Like his brothers before him (especially the eldest), the Moose loves to push the limits by climbing the highest slide or jumping headlong onto the merry-go-round. I watch like a hawk, though I try to let him have his space and let him discover what he can do (within reason), but often I find the playground more stress-inducing than stress-relieving.

I'm not the only one who feels this way. Over at Dadcentric, a recent post tackles the perils of playground watching. It is indeed a state of constant vigilance.

 My right eye is trained on my youngest, who is standing atop a 10’ slide approximately 47 degrees to my right, while my left eye is watching my eldest bounce up and down on a suspension bridge. My brain is receiving and processing simultaneous feeds from each eye regarding each boy’s current status. Any report of injury, a pained expression, or unacceptable behavior will trigger action in the rest of the body. It is a spectacular feat of dual awareness, a demonstration of two hemispheres functioning independently in order to accomplish a common goal, a state which I am able to accomplish through a combination of intense ocular control, deep breathing, and Norris-like focus. And I can maintain it for all of .37 seconds. 

Reinforcements

This winter Old Wahoo is pleased to announce his new helper, the Moose.

Riddle Me This, Batman

The Moose idolizes his brothers, even to the point of wanting the same punishment as they do. After one of his older brothers "earned" a timeout this morning, the Moose plopped himself on the stairs beside his big brother, smiled broadly and said, "Me timeout, too." (Only with more consonants and less vowels, or vise versa).

Knowing that the big brother needed no one near him, Old Wahoo picked up the Moose and took him to his room so he could play. But the Moose decided to misbehave, and he acted so poorly that he deserved a timeout, giving Old Wahoo a fatherhood riddle.

What would you do? "Reward" him with a timeout? Or punish him by not punishing him?

Moose on the Loose

Old Wahoo may be losing his workout partner because the Moose is ready to run away.

For about the past month or so, I've taken Matt on my morning runs, pushing him along in our giant stroller. He was really content in there for a time, but this week he started getting restless, possibly because I was running too slowly, or more likely, he just got bored of my out-of-shape, non-workout warrior routine. He started to stand up while I ran, untangling himself from his belt, and making it a not-so-safe situation, even though he thought it was hilarious.

Anyway, I thought about using duct tape to keep him down, but I figured the Moose is slipperier than any eel and would squirm away. At least he still does pushups and situps with me. Maybe I can get him to spot me with my lifting now.