Barnabas Monkeypants

Although I’ve never written one, I assume that writing (and drawing) children’s books are not easy. I make that assumption because so many that I’ve read are really, really terrible.

And the few that aren’t terrible, are often not really books for kids at all. I mean, I love J. Otto Seibold’s books (Mr. Lunch Borrows a Canoe is great, as is Quincy, the Hobby Photographer), but try and get a kid to sit there and look at the strange pictures with you, and you realize it’s no easy task.

So it’s nice when you find books that are for kids — young kids, like Henry — and that they’re well written and drawn –for someone like Henry — and that they tell a nice, quick story. One that if you’re asked to read again and again (4, 5, 6 times), it doesn’t take too long.

So when we discovered Byron Barton, we were really happy. His books don’t seem like much. The art is pretty simple. There may be no more than 75 words in an entire book. And it all is pretty straight forward (no subtleties for Mr. Barton). But for a boy Henry’s age, there may be nothing better.

When Henry’s love of moving things morphed from cars and trains to airplanes over the past month, we knew where to turn. So we bought two books — Airport and Planes – and they’ve quickly become regulars.

Why am I writing about Byron Barton and these two books? Well, in the Planes board book, there is a page that illustrates a skywriting plane and its message: drink milk. (Henry does so with much vigor.)

But for some reason, every time you say “drink milk” to him, he starts cracking up. At times, he’ll laugh so much, he’ll roll on the floor. I didn’t think people did that except in the movies.

I’ve tried to say other tw0-word combinations to him in hopes that they, too, will be gut jiggling, but to no avail.

Instead, we’ll just have to show you video proof (of the book, the laughter, the potty, and Cecil trying to get everyone’s attention.)

So other than videotaping Henry on the pot, what else have we learned this month?

We learned that while Henry loves to be in the pool, he really doesn’t like to do anything in the pool. Each Saturday morning, Henry and I (and sometimes Kristen) head over to a local high school for swimming class. And each Saturday, Henry screeches in delight as we get in the water. And each Saturday, Henry doesn’t want to do any of the games. No blowing bubbles. No floating on his back (with my help, of course). No arm strokes. Nothing. He just wants to be in the water splashing. This is okay — he’s still really young and we’ll probably end up signing him up for another class in the fall to see if he gets any more interested in swim-type activites. Anyway, the pool water always makes his curls go nuts, which is really cute.

We also learned that Henry has a very narrow range of temperature happiness. By this, I mean, he gets cold easily (like his mother) and sweats like a beast when it gets too hot (like his father). At swim class, he rarely makes it for the full hour because his teeth are chattering away and his lips are turning purple. And today, when the temperature reached 85 for the first time this year, he was sweating buckets when we went to the park. (Don’t even ask what I was doing.) I think for the cold part, he just has to get some meat on his bones. (He’s really skinny, and no matter how many pounds of food he devours daily, he’s not getting chubby at all. He’s skinny as can be.)

We learned that Henry going down to one nap a day lasted all of 4 days and then he was back to two. He’s pretty much off and on, two one day, one the next. We gauge how tired he looks and if he looks like he’s going to zonk out any minute, he’ll be rushed off to his crib. It’s also pretty easy to decide when he stops playing, crawls up on top of the couch and says, quietly, “nap.”

We learned that when we go out for a walk or are in the car, we never have to worry about missing a dog or a car or a truck or a bike or a plane or a bird or a flower. (And so on.) Because Henry keeps a running commentary at all times. Often, when there isn’t anything that exciting happen, he’ll say “shovel” or “digger”, probably hoping that if he says it often enough, a large machine will magically appear out of nowhere.

We learned that Henry really likes taco night. Once a week, it seems, Kristen and I make tacos for dinner. They’re easy to make and tasty and they’re fun. I mean, you make your dinner… and then you get to make your dinner again! Cheese? Check. Tomatoes? You bet. Sour cream? No way. Anyway, we always give Henry a large plate of ground meat (with spices), beans, cheese, and a pile of guacamole that you’ve never seen in your life. That kid loves avocado! We’ve gotten to the point that he eats about 70% of what we’re eating for dinner, which is a great thing. It’s easier on everyone and it introduces him to new flavors. Now if he only learns how to wash the dishes.

And we learned that Henry is back to giving quality hugs and kisses. Nothing better than a nice smooch right before bedtime.

This entry was posted on Monday, May 24th, 2010 at 6:53 pm and is filed under What We've Learned. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.