Take Christmas for example. He got quite a bit. Between us and his grandparents and aunts and uncles and friends of ours, there were a lot of presents under the tree. Christmas morning was ridiculous (or ree-DIK-ih-luss as Henry would say), as he opened scores of gifts. And after it was over, and he sat in the carnage of wrapping paper and ribbon, he looked up at us and said, “I want to open more presents, Daddy.”

More? More presents? You’ve got to be kidding me.

And we had no more. He sulked for a few minutes but then started playing and forgot about it. For the rest of the day, he was really happy with all his new cars and books and stuffed animals. Until the next morning when he woke up and asked for more presents. And the next morning. And the next.

I want Henry to know that we will give him things on occasion. Like on birthdays or holidays or every once in a while when we see something neat at the store. But I don’t want him to always think that there’s something new or that every time we go out he’s going to get something new.

On the other hand, I want him to be happy. Not that buying things for him is the only way that he is happy. He’s happy when we’re playing or reading books or going to the park or taking baths, and we do all that and have a blast.

What’s a father to do?

So other than Henry being a bit greedy, what else have we learned this month? (Well, a month and a half, since this is pretty late.)

We learned that Henry has started wearing underpants. (An aside: am I the only adult male who still refers to their boxers/briefs as underpants? Friends laugh when I use that word for my own undergarments.) During the summer, there were a few days here or there that we let him run around without a diaper, but more often than not, it ended up with him peeing and getting them soaked or running around so much that, because of his flat butt, they just fell to his ankles. But now, for a few hours a day, off goes the diaper and on goes the Lightning McQueen y-fronts. With enough pestering and reminding, he will now walk over to the potty and sit down on his own. This is great because we’re going to be diaper-free (daytime edition) by Henry’s third birthday.

We learned that Henry now speaks in compound complex sentences. (A recent example is “Daddy, I want to go out to lunch to get a quesadilla and then come home and play with trains.” He was very serious when he said it, so I obviously had to do everything he said.) I didn’t realize that kids could talk this well at just over two, but it’s really fun.

We learned that Henry has started to tell white lies. These aren’t likes like he’s denying that he did something bad, but he’s started to say things that really aren’t true so that he can delay the inevitable of taking a nap or going to bed. As one of us is rocking him before putting him into bed, he’s recently said such doozies like “Mommy, I’m hungry and I want pasta!” or “Daddy, I need to go poop right now!” and “Mommy, I need to take medicine” and, my favorite, “Daddy, Mommy said that you have to read me two books!”

We learned that Henry likes us to kiss his “owies”. If he bangs his knee or toe or scrapes his elbow, he will calmly walk over to us and ask us to kiss it to make it better. Amazingly, it actually works! Today, as Kristen was complaining to me that she had a really bad headache, Henry walked over and kissed her on the forehead. “Is it better, Mommy?” he asked. Amazingly, it actually works for parents, too!

We learned that Henry has become very interested in what makes things go. “How does that work, Mommy?’ is a common question lately, and today, when we were outside in the evening, he asked, “Daddy, where did the sun go?” It’s not easy trying to try and explain what makes things go and why nature occurs the way it does to a little kid, but I’ve tried, while making the answers a simple and straightforward as possible, to tell the truth. So when Henry starts telling you about the earth’s revolution, you can be justifiably impressed.

And we learned that Henry has been demanding what he calls, “Huggles and kissles and snuggles and sizzles”. This is an elaborate action where Kristen and I make a Henry sandwich, smother him in hugs and kisses and we say “sizzle” up to his neck and ear (the z’s making a good tickle), and as he is laughing uncontrollably, he demands more and more and more until he’s exhausted. I’m quite a fan, too.

Henry is a really sweet little kid. He is nice to other boys and girls (reluctantly and not without some gentle reminders he will share toys), he is polite (he’s gotten the pleases and thank-yous down pretty well), and he’s even been coming up to Kristen and I and telling us that he loves us or that he wants a hug or a kiss. He takes well to our friends and our neighbors and is always smiling and laughing.

Like I said: sweet.

This sweetness has come with another trait recently. That would be timid.

Lately, Henry has become very easily spooked, to the point where he even jumps a bit when he hears Cecil lumbering down the hallway. He hides from anything that is even remotely different. He is reluctant to try anything new. He’s scared of everything, it seems.

This isn’t an observation so much as he tells us that he’s scared. “Daddy, I’m scared of big pumpkins.” “Okay, Henry.” “Daddy, I’m scared of dolphins.” “Okay, Henry.” “Daddy, I’m scared of John Boehner.” “Okay, Henry.” (Note: I made one of those three things up.)

This is likely a phase, and we’re all okay with it. Although I have to admit that I get somewhat concerned when Henry seems to be afraid of even wonderful things, like Santa Claus or Big Slides. What’s a big slide, you say?

A couple of weeks ago, an ex-co-worker invited us to her daughter’s third birthday party that was to be held at a suburban Pump-it-Up. What’s a Pump-it-Up, you ask? It’s one of those places that have large inflatable bouncy rooms and slides where kids eat a lot of cake and then bounce for hours and, hopefully, not throw up.

Henry and I drove out to Schaumberg (oh, how I hate the suburbs), and after watching a short safety video (that Henry and all the other 2-, 3-, and 4-year-olds just were enraptured of), we headed off to the room where all the bouncy things were. The room was big and a little dark and very loud from all of the fans keeping the inflatable things puffy. And within 10 seconds of entering the room, Henry’s head was buried in my neck and he demanded that we go home immediately.

“Daddy, no big slide. No big slide!”

“What’s wrong, Henry?

“Big slide is scary. It’s scary! Let’s go home and play cars.”

And so we went out into the waiting room, called up Kristen, and Henry explained to her that the big slide was very scary and that he’d much rather be at home playing with his cars and trains and parking garages and perhaps even take a nap.

So that’s what we did. (He didn’t even allow me to go back inside and say goodbye to my friend.) This isn’t the only time that he’s refused to do something because he was scared of late. We saw Santa Claus (who we’ll talk about a bit later) at a local mall recently. We didn’t see him as in get on his lap or anything. We just saw him. But that was enough for Henry to make the widest arc possible around him.

I hope that this is just a phase, but if it’s not, that’s okay, too. We’re not going to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do, and that means likely no visit to Santa this year and no trips to Pump-it-Up for a while either.

But even if he does grow out of it, I hope he still retains the sweetness.

So, other than Henry being a shy, what else have we learned?

We learned that Henry is in the middle of another growth spurt. We cannot get enough food down the kid’s throat of late. Pasta, potatoes, soup, yogurt, hot dogs. You name it, he’s eating it with ravenous gusto. (Everything but fruit. He still doesn’t eat fruit.) This growth spurt has meant that everything about him has gotten larger. He seems like he’s grown 6 inches in the past month. He’s really heavy to carry. And his feet are gigantic. We’ve had to buy new shoes twice in the past three months, his feet are growing so fast. 2T shirts no longer fit, and 3Ts are even getting a little short. (His pants are another story. Because he’s still really skinny — regardless of how much he eats — and his butt is really flat, pants that are the right length fall off him and pants that are the right waist and high-waters.)

We learned that Henry loves the idea of Santa Claus a lot more than he loves Santa Claus. Kristen and I started talking about Santa a few weeks ago, telling Henry that he’s a big fat man with a beard who comes once a year and gives good girls and boys a few presents. Well, presents is one thing that Henry likes even more than pasta, so he quickly embraced the idea of a fat man bearing gifts. He’s already got his list: cars, trucks, and a skid steer. A skid steer, people! At first, Henry was up to going up and asking Santa for these things. But after seeing him in all his glory at the mall, he’s decided that I’m going to go up and sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what Henry wants. Heaven help a mall Santa who has my girth on top of him. But Henry needs not worry. We’ll write a letter.

We learned that Henry remembers things. Not regular things, like the names of his cars or his stuffed dog. But he remembers things from six months ago, like friends of Kristen’s we saw when we were in Florida last. Or other people that he’s met only once. I don’t know why this is astonishing to me — but remembrance seems to be such an abstract thing, and it’s neat that he’s grasping it.

We learned that Henry’s getting really good at talking. Really good. Like to the point where he starts talking and won’t stop. And he’s started to understand how past tense works and how to make a word plural. Sure, sometimes he’ll say “feets” instead of “foots” or “mouses” instead of “mice”, but he’ll get there. (Our favorite is instead of  “hugs”, he’ll say “hugses”. Nothing cuter than that, is there.) He can count up to 12 and he’s pretty good with the alphabet. Now all we have to work on is colors. Henry, not everything is purple. Remember that.

We learned that Henry loves visits from his grandfather. Opa (Kristens’ father) came for a few days over the Thanksgiving week, and Henry liked nothing more than dragging him around, showing off all his toys and books and signing his favorite songs.

And we learned that, even after two haircuts, there are still some curls left. Not as many as before his first cut, and even less than after his second. But when wet or when it’s humid outside, his golden locks reappear. And there’s nothing better.

A few years ago, when we had three cats (none of whom are the insane animals we have running through our house now), I had this moment where I was completely amazed that living with Kristen and I were these creatures that just lurked around the house, ate, slept, pooped, snuggled, and sometimes broke things. It’s a strange feeling knowing you’re not alone in your own house.

The other day, this same thought came over me, but now, instead of Frank, Betty, and Sonja (poor kitties, all died too young), there is Henry. He walks around and does his own thing — playing with cars, eating a snack, chasing a cat. He doesn’t need me or Kristen as much (oh, there are still plenty of “Daddy help”; “Help what?”, “Daddy help PLEEEEZE”), and I spend a lot of time not playing with him but just watching him play. (It’s completely fascinating.)

But unlike the cats, he’s growing and maturing and changing and becoming a child — not a baby or a toddler — but a child. It’s completely amazing.

The past month has had its moments, of course. There was his first real tantrum where he just didn’t want to sit and eat with us, where the tears and screams flew out of him, and where the only thing that calmed him down was just letting it all out.

There was the fact that the plumbing in our kitchen (and in two other units’ kitchens) died and we were without water or use of a dishwasher for over a week. A large hole had to be cut in Henry’s bedroom wall (it’s only being repaired today), and this meant he spent several nights sleeping in other rooms (and even once, with us), and having his schedule (and ours) go completely kaplooey.

There was his poop regression, where he no longer wants to sit on his potty, and where we’ve begun to have to bribe him with M&Ms (which he calls “and M and Ms”) just so he will sit and at least try to go.

There was his throwing of toys at daddy’s head (ow!) and even a bite (double ow!) and the resulting meltdown when he had to have a short timeout. (Is 120 seconds long enough to be a living hell? Oh, yes.)

There were trips to Florida for a funeral and a visit from family that made him hyper and exhausted all at once.

And yet, through all of this, these were minuscule bumps in an otherwise great month. I am completely and utterly in love with the kid, and I really can’t think of life before him.

So, what else have we learned this, his first full month of being 2?

We learned that Henry’s love for all things cars continues to grow. I know I write a lot about it (when I do write), but it’s true. The past week, Henry’s woken up in the middle of the night a couple of times, and when I went back to check on him (too many tears and calls for us to try and let him just fall back to sleep on his own), the first thing he asked for, after Kristen, of course, was “I want to play Mater” (Mater being this character from the movie Cars, which he hasn’t yet seen, but has watched some of the 3-minute Mater’s Tall Tales that more easily fit his attention span).

When he wakes up in the morning, he wants to play cars. When we’re telling him it’s time for bed, he demands to play cars. He has cars in his crib with him, and has car clothing. It’s a disease.

We learned that Henry likes back and foot rubs, just like his mother. And, just like his mother, he tends to not be the most balanced person around. He doesn’t fall a lot so much as it always seems he’s going to fall. When he’s running around an playing at the park, I tend to hover around him, ready to catch him when he topples.

We learned that Henry likes the idea of Skype and phonecalls more than actual Skype and phonecalls. He’ll ask to talk when someone calls, but when we give him the phone, he’s usually silent. Same thing for when he wants to “Talk to Opa on the pater” (pater being what he calls the computer). I don’t know if he’s shy or just gets a little stage fright. He’ll get over it, and I’m sure will be chatting away (as he does when he pretends to call people) before we know it.

And we learned that Henry’s curls live on. After a haircut a few weeks ago, we worried that his golden curly locks would be gone, replaced by merely golden locks. But we worried for nothing, as his hair (when it’s humid or when he just gets out of the bath) has remained curly. I know we’re just tempting fate and that soon it will be as straight as Kristen’s or mine, but for now, it’s just plain wonderful.

Oma passed away on Tuesday evening.

Henry (along with Kristen and I) visited Florida three times during his first two years and he was able to meet  Oma and charm her (as he charms everyone), and that was something very important to all of us.

Kristen and Henry are down there right now and will be returning on Sunday. (Tickets were astronomical, so I am staying home.) And I miss them dearly as much as I know Kristen misses her grandmother.

Now on to something less somber. Henry’s birthday party.

Last year, when Henry turned one, the highlight (for me and I suspect Henry) was when our chubby cheeked boy devoured an extra-large cupcake to the amazement of all. (The boy can pack it in.) He could crawl at the time and stand up, but he wasn’t particularly mobile. He also pretty much just laughed and made silly baby noises.

A lot has changed since then.

No longer chubby (more on that later) and very mobile and talkative, this was a much different party.

An aside: another difference this year was the weather. For those of you (all 3 of my readers) who attended Henry’s birthday bash last year, you might remember that we had the party indoors. Not because of rain, but because it was freezing outside. On August 22nd last year (when we had his party) the high was in the low 60s, and even colder by the lake. (Naturally, we live very close to the lake.) This summer has been brutally hot and humid, and I feared that it would be so bad outside, we’d be forced to have it inside, with the air conditioners cranking. Luckily, it was perfect weather, mid-80s, low humidity. Thank goodness.

So the kids at the party today could all (except for two newborns) run around and talk and grab and be silly, and everyone had a good time. In the days leading up to the party, we would tell Henry that his “birthday was coming” and that he had every reason to be happy.

“My birthday coming?” he’d ask.

“Yes, on Saturday your birthday will be here,” we’d answer.

Over and over.

Then, on Saturday, with everyone having fun and sidewalk chalk all over the ground and bubbles in the air and hot dogs in the tummy, Henry came up to me and asked, “My birthday coming?”

“It’s here, Henry! This is your birthday,” I said.

“Birthday! Birthday! Birthday!” he yelled and ran around like a crazed monkey.

We had some great cake with an airplane icing on top and everyone got to take home some race car rubber duckies and as the party came to a close, Henry opened about 1/3 of his presents (with the help of a few young ladies who were more excited about it than he was), until it became obvious that he’d rather play with the airplane he unwrapped early on than get to any more packages, so we slowly wound down things and everyone went home. (Except for Henry, Kristen and I who were already home and our friends Meghan and Christine who demanded they stay and help clean up.)

Overall, it was a great party, and we thank everyone who came and celebrated with us.

So, other than having a shindig to rival all other shindigs, what have we learned this past month?

We learned that Henry is still very tall and very skinny. At his 2-year appointment on Monday, Henry was measured at 36 inches tall (that’s 3 feet for those who aren’t so good at math) and 26 pounds (which is just under 2 stone, if you live in the UK). When you put that in the handy-dandy chart, he’s 90th percentile for height and 15th percentile for weight. He is a spaghetti. (A wonderful, adorable, happy spaghetti.) So by the time he’s 20, it looks like he’ll be (doing the math, dividing by pi) 7 1/2 feet tall and a little under 65 pounds. Manute Bol.

We also learned from the pediatrician what we’ve already suspected. As Henry wailed way (he was not happy to go to the doc’s), he was talking up a storm. (We like it when he talks when he’s unhappy, as I’ve mentioned before. It’s much easier to help him out and make things better and explain to him what’s going on.) Anyway, Dr. Weismann asked how coordinated Henry was. The answer is so-so. He runs like a mad man, his arms and legs flailing about. He wants to jump and talks about jumping, but he hasn’t ever actually jumped. The doctor explained that there’s a spike in development in either the physical or the vocal, and one flies past the other. By the time 3 rolls around, they’re usually at the same spot. I don’t care if he can’t jump at 2 or 3 or 4. All I care is that when he’s 17, he’s ready to be drafted and play center for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

We learned that Henry has become complete and utterly terrified of bugs. Now Kristen’s not a bug person (especially moths), but she has been very good at hiding her buggy fears in front of Henry. Yet somehow, spiders and bugs and flies (especially the dreaded dragonflies) have become the most frightening thing on the planet. From a distance (and in books), he’s fine, but get one within 5 feet and he’s holding onto you for dear life saying, “I’m scared of bugs, daddy.” We’ve been trying to help him out a bit — let him know that they’re not going to hurt him, that they’re not really scary — but so far, no luck. Will he eventually grow out of this fear or will it drive him to a career as a Terminex man? Time will only tell.

And we learned that any day now — any day — we’re going to have to take Henry in for his first haircut. As the summer comes to a close and as the humid weather of summer will move into the dry cold of winter, those curls in the back are going to become flat and lifeless. And when Henry’s hair is flat and lifeless, it looks like a gigantic blond mullet. (When it’s really wet, it’s down past his shoulders.) Every time we say it’s time for the barber’s chair, he’ll turn around and show us the curls on the back of his head, and we’ll put it off for another week. But I think that pretty soon it will be time. The only question now is, how much of the hair will we save? All of it? Just the best 4 or 5 curls? It’s just so sad to think about…

And, of course, every time he starts to talk, he usually says something pretty hilarious (causing Kristen and I to have to stifle our laughter).

But the craziest thing that he’s been doing of late is telling us exactly what he wants to eat. No, not asking for tacos or spaghetti or ice cream. He’s been doing that for months.

What he does is ask for specific pieces of food on his plate.

You see, we’ll have a bowl of ravioli sitting in front of him, and after he’s done feeding himself and wants some help, he’ll direct us to feed him that-one-right-there-no-Daddy-the-other-one-yes-Daddy-that-one pasta.

“That one!” he’ll say, pointing to something that’s hidden under cheese and sauce.

“This one?” I’ll ask.

“No, daddy, that one!”

And so on and so on until the bowl is empty. And then he’ll ask for the pasta on my plate, and when that’s all done with, he’ll go after Kristen’s. (We think he’s going through another growth spurt.)

It’s not just pasta. It’s soup, it’s hot dogs, it’s ice cream (do you know how difficult it is to figure out exactly which part of the scoop he’s talking about?).

But at least he’s eating (and eating a lot) and he’s talking. We’ll gladly put up with the specificities.

So, other than Henry directing his every move, what else have we learned this month?

We learned that Henry can count up to twelve. Sure, he really doesn’t understand the concept of the numbers up that high, but it’s cute and wonderful and every time he does it, we all clap and give him hugs and kisses.

We learned that Henry’s hair is getting curlier and curlier. I don’t know where he’s got it from, but his hair is just going wild of late. When it’s humid out — and this summer has been brutally humid — it curls up like he just got out of the salon with a perm. His blond hair we can explain — both Kristen and I were blonds when we were really young — but neither of us had hair like that. Because of these remarkable curls (which at first were just in the back but now are at top of his head), Kristen has not allowed for scissors to come near his head. It will happen soon — maybe before he turns two — but for now, he’s still wonderfully shaggy.

We learned that Henry likes ice in his water. In fact, he demands it. He’ll grab a cup of water, look inside, and if he doesn’t see an ice cube floating, he’ll toddle over to the freezer and try to open it up. This really isn’t a problem — ice is plentiful around here — but it can get a bit rough when were outside or in the car and there’s no ice to be found.

We learned that sometimes Henry can say things and be cute and charming that would otherwise be a little bit… strange… if an adult said it. For example, he was on the potty and had a poop. It was a little poop, so when he stood up and looked at what was in the potty, he said, “Ladybug.” That was funny for hours.

And we learned that Henry’s idea of a perfect morning is to get on the CTA elevated train with Mommy or Daddy and just ride for about an hour or so. He loves everything about the train — the tracks, the stations, the people coming in and going out of the cars — and it’s inevitable that as we’re heading home, 10 minutes or so from our stop, Henry will put his arm around one of our necks, lay his head on our shoulders, and fall asleep. That’s when Kristen and I like the train.

Last week, Henry said his longest sentence yet: “I want a taco, Mama.”

Since we all love tacos (and, luck have it, we were making them for dinner), he got his request.

For the most part, Henry’s vocabulary has grown by leaps and bounds, to the point where we can’t even keep track of all the new ones, but we couldn’t be happier. His many, many words mean that he’s able to ask for things (toys and/or tacos), can tell us what hurts (tummy, toes), and tell us when he’s unhappy about a certain situation (a request for more toys and/or tacos).

He’s pretty good with his pronunciation, which is something that can always be an issue. When he says something, you know what’s going on. He’s also good at enunciating. So “again” sounds like “again” and “I want it” sounds like “I want it.” One of the few phrases that doesn’t come out perfectly enunciated is when here says, “here you go.” Now, I realize that “here you go” isn’t the most proper of phrases, but it gets the point across.

Of course, instead of sounding out each word, we get “higgum.”

“Higgum, mama,” and he’ll hand her a truck.

“Higgum, daddy,” and he’ll hand me a piece of cheese.

I actually like the “word,” and I’ve started using it myself when giving things to people at work. “Higgum the executive summary, boss.” (I’ll get a strange look, but then, I get those most of the times anyway.)

We don’t correct him when he says it, because he’s good enough at saying everything else, that why take away one of the cutest things to ever come out of his mouth?

So, other than us preparing to submit “higgum” to the Oxford English Dictionary for placing it in their next edition, what else have we learned this month?

We learned that Henry loves to describe the goings on outside when driving in our car. I may have mentioned it before, but we get a running commentary of what cars, trucks, buses, bicycles, motorcycles, and trains are around at all time. He loves them and gets really excited, and we’ve begun to use that to our advantage. Several times during the past month, we’ve been driving home just in time to get Henry to sleep for the night or down for his nap, and he’ll begin to fall asleep in the backseat in his car seat. As we’d rather he’d stay awake (it makes it much easier for him to fall asleep in his crib if he hasn’t just been woken up), we’ll often say, “Look, a plane!” or “Look, Henry, firetruck!” or “Wow! Look at that train!” when no plane, truck, or train is in eyesight. But it gets him alert for another minute or so, long enough to get us home again. Yes, we’re lying to our son already. We’re just preparing ourselves for Santa, I guess.

We learned that Henry has started giving us kisses again. It’s a month-on, month-off sort of thing, but for the past few weeks he’ll give us a peck on a cheek and a hug every so often. Toddler kisses are pretty nice.

We learned that Henry wants a dog. That’s a good thing, because I want a dog, too. The problem is, there is no possible way to fit another breathing creature into our place without one of us sleeping on the couch. (Me.)

We learned that when both mommy and daddy are sick, taking care of a kid is a challenge. Last week, Kristen had terrible food poisoning, so bad that she ended up in the hospital to get fluid, and I had a horrible, lingering flu/cold that knocked me out for several days. We would trade off in 15 minute shifts for looking after Henry or making him dinner or giving him a bath while the other parent was huddled in a mass on the floor, moaning.

We learned that Henry likes thunder (“noise! loud noise!”) but isn’t so fond of lighting (“scared!”).

And we learned that Henry still has all of his hair. We’ve yet to get it cut, and that’s mostly because of the humidity that usually sits over the city of Chicago for the summer months. During June, July, and August, the dense air can be stifling (especially to someone like me who hates the heat with a passion), and I like to sit inside in the air conditioning as much as possible. Henry, however, has no such qualms, and in fact, the humidity makes him hair curl up like nobody’s business. I have no clue where these curls came from. Both my hair and Kristen’s are perfectly straight, and neither of us had much wave when we were kids (Kristen more than me), but Henry’s locks are ridiculous! When it’s wet, his hairstyle is all mullet, but when it’s dry and there’s moisture in the air, it’s the most perfect mix of waves and Shirley-Temple locks. I’m afraid that Kristen will never let him get it cut, and he’ll look like a blonde Tarzan, with hair down his back, when he goes off to kindergarten.

Now that’s a look.

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.

It’s certainly easier, I guess, to just sit there and have them rattle off dog, cat, and moose while looking at flashcards then to actually walk around and point out things to them in real life (“Look at that dog, Henry” or “What a pretty yellow flower” or “Run! Run! It’s a rabid moose!”).

And it’s not as fun as when your child suddenly starts talking to you about these things seemingly out of the blue. A couple of weeks ago, when I was reading Dear Zoo (a Christmas gift from Henry’s aunt Rachel, I believe) to Henry, he started telling me what the animals were that the zoo was sending before I had the chance to tell him. (The premise of the book is that the narrator writes to the zoo to send them a pet, and the zoo, obviously trying as hard as they can to get sued, starts sending lions and camels and monkeys. Real smart, zoo.) Before, he would just make the noise when the animal appeared (ROWR! for the lion or EEE EEE! for the monkey), but now, he said  lion and monkey and camel and snake and doggy.

(An aside: Henry tends to want to add syllables to words that don’t need them. So when he says skunk, it sounds like “ska-uuun-kuk” and applesauce sounds like “applesauce-auce” and monkey is “moon-un-key”. It’s quite endearing.)

It’s really encouraging to see him learn things without the aid of flash cards or those horrid Baby Einstein videos.

So, other than the fact that Henry is having a good time talking, what else have we learned this month?

We learned that to Henry, every bird is a duck. A couple of years ago, our friend and her then 20-month-0ld daughter came over to our house and the young girl saw our plastic pink flamingo sitting in our kitchen’s bay window. “Goose! Goose!” she yelled, pointing to it. It seemed that all birds were geese to her. Robins, ducks, pigeons. All of them were geese. Cute, right? Well, Henry’s doing the same thing, but instead of goose, it’s duck. Duck this, duck that. I’m sure, just like our friend’s daughter, he’ll soon get a little more specific. Probably a good idea, considering the neighborhood sparrows are quite the snobs.

We learned that Henry can now tell us what he wants. He’s always been pretty good about saying more and all done (“more cheese” and “all done oatmeal”), but now he’s added “self” (meaning he wants to do it himself) and “help” (nice, because it cuts off frustration pretty quickly). He’s also started saying “down” (before, “up” was the catch-all for up and down, Henry’s aloha). His latest use of “more” is more abstract: “more airplane,” he’ll say, or “more firetruck,” which we suppose means he wants to get on another plane soon or wants to see more firetrucks (oh, how he loves them). Henry’s also started to say “I got it” when we try and help him (like walking up stairs) when it should be obvious to all of us that he can do it all by himself. He’s also been saying “outside” when he wants to get out of our place, and “comb” when he wants to run a comb through his (and Kristen and my) hair.

We learned that more molars have started to come in. Over the past 6 months or so, Henry’s slept through the night all but a handful of times (usually due to a spicy dinner or illness). Well, that’s not completely true. He wakes up all the time, but usually just grabs the Nuby cup we have in the crib so he can drink some water and then quickly goes back to sleep. This changed a bit this past month, as he’s gotten up in the middle of the night a half-dozen times or so because of obvious teething pain. How is it obvious, you ask? Well, when you walk into his room to try and soothe him and see that he’s ramming both of his hands into his mouth, you know it’s a teething problem. Supposedly, these final molars are the worst, and he’s been putting up with some pain. Poor kid.

We learned that while I’m still Daddy, Kristen is Mama. Not Mommy. Mama. I like this.

And we learned that, after a few months of kissless life, Henry has begun to give kisses once again. This is how it goes. It always happens right before a nap or he goes to bed for the night. I’ll put him in his Sleep Sack, sing the ABCs, and ask for a kiss. Henry will then grab my cheeks, say “Cheeks!”, then start giving me a dozen sloppy kisses, with accompanying mmmmwa’s. Even though I have to immediately wash my face after I put him in the crib, it’s well worth the mess.

Henry does not eat fruit.

No strawberries or bananas or peaches. No apples or oranges or blueberries.

Every time a piece of fruit crosses his lips, he spits it out. He doesn’t even chew it! Just spits it right out.

It’s strange. Henry eats nearly anything and everything. (He calls out for sausage and cheese like they’re the only thing that could possibly satisfy his hunger.) But not fruit.

We’ve tried everything. I’ll take a bite of a strawberry, then Kristen will, and we’ll hand a piece to Henry. He’ll look at it then throw it on the ground. No matter how many “yummy” or “tasty” noises we make, he won’t buy it. We’ll try to hide fruit in oatmeal or in between bites of other things he likes, but he’s too smart for that and sees through our ruse.

We haven’t really pressed the issue. I mean, he eats enough, he’s not that picky otherwise. I suppose there are other ways that we can get him to eat fruit, but for now we’re going to wait it out.

This summer, as we head off to the local farmers markets, buying wonderful fruits (and vegetables), we’re hoping that he’ll change his ways. He needs more roughage.

So other than the fact that Henry is a strict meat and potatoes kind of fellow, what else have we learned this month?

We learned that Henry loves the stairs. While he’s still not an expert at it, he loves walking up the steps, holding on tightly to the banister with one hand and Kristen or my hand with his other. As we live on the top floor of a three-story house, there are a lot of opportunities for step time, and he’s getting much, much better. He’s not as good going down (he really doesn’t feel it necessary to look where he’s going), but he’s improving. The only thing getting in the way of superior stepping is the length (or lack there of) of his legs.

We learned that Henry loves hot dogs. Just days after the American Academy of Pediatrics issued a stern warning, Henry ate his first foot-long. (He ate the whole thing.) Always one to do the opposite of what the experts say, we still carefully cut up the hot dog into easily chewable pieces, gave him some macaroni and cheese for a bit of taste, and let him at it. For the next week, at every meal (breakfast included), he asked for a hot dog. This is a good sign that Henry will also enjoy apple pie and baseball.

We learned that Henry’s speech has really improved by leaps and bounds. He repeats words easily and has even started to string words together (“more hot dog” and “more hugs” and “again jump”). One of the things that kids Henry’s age get frustrated about is the inability to communicate — they know what they want, but just can’t get the words out. It’s happened a few times with Henry (when it does, he just runs through about 10 or 15 words, figuring one of them is the right one), but for the most part, he’s able to get the right word or two out. It’s really limited the number of temper tantrums he’s had.

We learned that the horrible 18-month-sleep-regression that Kristen and I were dreading has yet to show up. Henry has (well, except for last night) slept through the night consistently for more than 6 months, is still taking two 2-hour naps a day (how does he do that), and happily goes to sleep at 7 every evening. Most nights, in fact, after we give him hugs and sing some songs and talk about our day, when Kristen or I walk him over to his crib, he actually lunges for the thing. It’s like he can’t get his Elmo and stuffed animals into his arms fast enough so he can catch some z’s. Lucky us.

And we learned that Henry really loves music. Finding good kid’s music is not easy. A lot of it makes you want to put sticks into your ears (dirty, jagged sticks), and we’ve really searched to find things that not only he likes, but Kristen and I can tolerate. One of his favorites is Salsa for Kittens & Puppies and its terrifyingly catchy song “Meow, Hou-hou.” (Hou-hou is, I suppose, the Latin American way of saying “woof-woof”, because, according to the CD, that’s what all the little doggies say.) Henry will run around the house saying, “hou-how, meow,” until we turn it on for him. Another good CD is Animal Crackers by Wee Hairy Beasties. (My personal favorite is “Cyril the Karaoke Squirrel.”) He’s not much of a dancer (yet), but he’s a terrific listener.

And we learned that Henry really likes hugging. Still not a fan of smoochin’, Henry will now come running toward you, his arms held up high, a huge smile on his face, yelling “Hug! Hug!” and get a good grip around your neck or legs or whatever he can grab. It’s a really nice thing.

“Okay, Henry. One more book, but then you have to go to bed.”

“Brown Bear! Brown Bear!”

What? That was new.

When did he learn that? When did he learn those words? When did he start putting nouns and adjectives together?

That happened this evening right before he went to sleep, but it’s not so unusual. Kristen wrote about Henry’s vocabulary last week, and as she said, he’s seemingly adding a word or two every day. (Yesterday, it was “shake” and “tushy”. Don’t ask.)

One of the common issues with kids Henry’s age is their frustration when they’re unable to communicate what toy they want, what is bothering them, or what they want to eat. For the most part, we’ve avoided this problem because when he wants oatmeal, he says “oatmeal.” When he wants to take a bath, he says “bass.” And when he wants his skunk puppet, he says “skunk”.

What all this talking has done is make Henry a real person. He’s no longer a baby and not really a toddler. He’s a little boy. And I like it.

So other than Henry being quite the little blabbermouth, what else have we learned this past month.

We learned that Henry can now climb up onto the sofa. This is only slightly frightening, because once he gets up there, it’s pretty easy for him to fall off it. He hasn’t yet, but we’re waiting for that thump and howl.

We learned that Henry is getting a little stir crazy. Although Chicago hasn’t had the huge blizzards that the northeast has, we’ve had our fair share of snow. Because of the snow covering all the parks and anything even remotely green and the miserable cold, Henry’s been stuck inside most of the time. Sure, he can run up and down the hallway (annoying our downstairs neighbors, I’m sure), Super-Nanny Silvia takes him to the local park district field house a couple times a week, and on weekends, we’ll head off to some mall to get him room for him to run. But it’s not enough. We need a park, damnit! One that is not frozen or full of mud. Spring can’t come soon enough.

We learned that Henry likes it when Kristen and I sing to him. “Seeng! Seeng! Song! Song!” he’ll say. There are three songs that he requests most often: “en-em-oh”, which is the alphabet song (he’s trying to say “l-m-n-o-p”); “low low”, which is “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”); and “ee-i-oh”, which is “Old MacDonald” (“ee-i-ee-i-oh”). We also bought a pig speaker (yes, a pig speaker) to hook up to Kristen’s iPod so he can listen to music while he eats. (He likes the Jackson 5 quite a bit.) Michael certainly sings better than Kristen and me.

We learned that Henry really likes scrambled eggs, beans, sausage, and cookies. My god, does that boy like cookies.

We learned that Henry’s newest favorite thing to do when we’re holding him (which is getting harder to do now that he weighs about 432 pounds) is to stick his hand down the front of your shirt and start poking you in the armpit. This is very ticklish (as one could imagine) and as I’m there trying to suppress my laughter (because, darn it, it’s time to take a nap), Henry is cracking up. It’s really difficult to get him to stop doing something like that when you’re laughing. I keep on trying to tell him that putting your hand under someone’s shirt is something he’s not allowed to do until he’s 25, but it doesn’t seem to be sinking in. Go figure.

And we learned that Henry is still taking two, 2-hour naps a day. And is sleeping 11 1/2 hours at night! Now I love to nap (I’m a big fan), but Henry has taken this to the next level. (Of course, on the weekend, when he wants to spend some extra time with mommy and daddy, he has been taking either a very short second nap or none at all.) Since your bones grow only when you’re asleep (did you know that? I sure didn’t), I reckon he’ll be about 6 feet by the time of his third birthday.