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Dax holds his daddy by the hand and says, "Come on, daddy!" He leads him around and around and around the great room. They circle around the couch, past the island, behind my chair. They thread through stacks of folded laundry, step over toys and shoes, narrowly avoid skittering cats.
"What are you doing, Dax?" I ask my small son as he leads his slightly hunched over and bemused father around their third or fourth lap.
"Walking the daddy."
Well, somebody has to.
Yup. Check out the height.
So Michelle walked out of MyGym with Dax the other day and by then it was already dark outside.
Dax: "Wowwww....Dark Mommy!"
Michelle: "Yes Dax. Why do you think that is?"
Dax: "Hmmmm.....Sun go night-night, moooooon come out."
We went up to Soda Springs again this weekend and Dax got to see snow for the very first time.
And while he claimed to love it and clamored to go outside and play in it, we quickly found that he did NOT enjoy having his feet come into contact with it in any way whatsoever.
As long as we were willing to ferry him about as if we were beasts of burden and he was an exotic prince he was more than willing to participate in our winter games.
"Dear Santa,
Please bring me a sturdy mule. Or a sled and some dogs. Mommy and daddy tire out so easily.
Love,
Dax"