First Hike

About 12:30 last night, we got back from Estes Park, CO; finishing up our first full week family vacation.  All things considered (mainly that we have a toddler) it was a great week.  We had a good mixture of sight-seeing while also not pushing Dawson too hard and even sticking to his nap schedule.

The first morning in our secluded cabin just a few yards from the boundary of Rockies National Park, Erin needed to sleep in.  Our cabin was cozy but a bit small, so it was impossible to keep Dawson quiet enough to allow Erin to continue sleeping.  So after some encouragement, Dawson agreed to go on a walk with me.  Of course, I didn't have a camera (these pictures were from a later hike along  paved path) but I have some great memories.  I was really, really proud of my son on that hike.  The hike was almost two miles and it was along a rough path, up and down hills, over rocks and along a high ridge but Dawson strongly blazed through the path, speeding along ahead of me.  I did carry him down a steep hill and after he freaked out from a bug bite, but he walked almost the entire two miles.

At the start of the hike, some deer walked in front of us.  While Dawson was quite excited to see it, that reminder of the fact that we were in a national park had me keeping a look out for bears the rest of the trip.  I wasn't sure what I would've done had we come across a bear but considering how Dawson had been freaking out over the chipmunks outside our cabin, I kept my fears to myself.

My favorite moment was watching as a snowy peak rose up beyond Dawson's head as he crested the rise of a hill. I watched with pride as he hiked over the peak of that hill and kept moving deeper into the forest.  Dawson was alive with all the wonders of nature all around him.  At one point, I wanted to walk along a patch about 15 feet down the side of the ridge, but Dawson was worried that trail wouldn't take him back to mommy.

The hike did wear him out though, evidenced by the meltdown he had just before nap time. The next morning, I tried to convince him to go on a walk again but he must've remembered how intense that hike was because after about 20 feet up the first hill he announced, "Daddy, I don't want to go on a walk."  So we sat on a bench and spent the next half hour listening to the mountain wind, looking for more deer, tossing pine cones, talking about how God made the mountains and just hugging on each other.  That time was also sweet but his lack of desire to do the hike a second time confirmed just how special that first hike truly was.

November Videos

Stench

The other night, we were laying on the couch together and Dawson was doing his usual
job of piling every available pillow and blanket on top of me.  Dawson then laid on top of
that pile, as the pile rested on top of me.
I'm not sure what I'd had for dinner that night, but it was creating some serious
pain in my stomach.  Thinking I could release some of the gaseous pressure and
that Dawson wouldn't care, I did so.  A few moments later, however Dawson did care.
Dawson wrinked up his nose and got a bewildered look on his face.  He then pointed to the
inside of his nose, acted like he was in pain and then said, "my nose hurts."  I started to laugh
at that point but lost it at what he said next.  Dawson looked at me, with a serious
and pained expression, ording, "Daddy, don't poop in my nose!

"I tackle daddy"

For a solid 9 months now, Dawson's favorite activity is "I tackle daddy."  Though the definition of
tackling has changed over time.  Now it's much closer to wrestling with daddy but since daddy
is a forme football player rather than former a wrestler, we've stuck with tackling.

At first, tackling involved me laying on the floor while Dawson lauched himself from the couch
toward a semi-soft landing on my stomach and the occassional not-so-soft landing in other areas.
Dawson eventually began to fear the lack of a gauranteed soft landing, so tackling became an act
of Dawson pulling out every single blanket from a cabinet
and every pillow from the couch and covering me with them.

Lately however, Dawson has discoverd the joy of the spare bed in the tv room downstairs.  Now, "I tackle
daddy" has changed into "I go downstairs and tackle daddy."  On that downstairs bed we have good times
doing thins like pillow fights
(Dawson taking a dive even before the pillow hits him), form tackling drills, me pushing Dawson over
while he's jumping on the bed, swinging from the treadmill to the bed or me diving headfirst
at my boy on the other side of the bed.  It's just your basic father-son bonding time.

The good news is that as Dawson gets older and stronger, these matches are going to get more
intense and I'm sure the day in coming in which my son will put a serious hurting on me.  Right now,
though, its' just a bunch of silly stuff all wrapped up in the imperative, "I tackle daddy."

"I be cold with you."

It's been funny for Erin to see that I'm not the only male who believes less clothes is better
than more clothes.  In fact, Erin has now realized that the desire to wear pretty much only
underwear is a universal male trait.  Dawson's favorite outfit is nothing but a diaper with
his next favorite outfit being a shirt and diaper.

So when I happen to be walking from the shower or from the bedroom to iron my pants and wearing
only underwear, Dawson immediately drops his drawers and strips off his shirt in order to join
the'a la mode' of the male househould. And since toddlers still bond with skin-to-skin contact,
Dawson runs up and asks me to hold him or he just grabs my bare legs.  Dawson also usually adds an
"I be cold with you, Daddy."  It's very humorous and incredibly predictable.  If Dawson ever
sees me without pants or without a shirt, he immediately removes the corresponding article of
clothing.  When he does this, Erin and I just laugh.

"Cold" is usually how Dawson describes his pants-less mode.  Most likely it's because whenever he
does strip off his pants, which is quite often, we tell him he'll get cold without his clothes.
Especially when Dawson and I are down in the cold basement jumping in the bed and Dawson strips
off his pants, I ask a bewildered, "why do you want to be cold."  I guess Dawson is numb to the cold
or just figures that no matter his body temperature, the male bonding that occurs while
jumping on the bed needs to be done sans-pants.

I'm not sure whether he'll ever grow into the civilized notion that pants are not a bad thing.

Exerting his independence

Ever since he's been born, though we're not exactly sure of the reason, our nickname for
Dawson has been "bugga."  Maybe it was the bug-like quality of his bulging newborn eyes.
Whatever the reason, "bugga bugga" has stuck.

The other day however, when refering him by the regular nickname, he obstinately replied with
a "I am not bugga.  I am Dawson."

And there it is, a new level of self-assertion.  "I am not who you say I am, I am my own person."


Our little boy is growing up into a man.

First Answered Prayer

A couple of weeks ago, my dad had a serious mishap; his back went out in excrutiating style, sending
him to the hospital for several days.  I was a bit worried for awhile, but thought it would
be a good chance to start teaching Dawson about prayer.  So during our nightly prayer, I asked
Dawson to pray for my dady.

"God help Papa.  Papa is sick."

It was the first time Dawson has directly asked something of his Heavenly Father.  A couple
days later, my dad made an almost overnight recovery and was back at home and back to work.
When my dad called, Dawson yelled into the phone, "Papa is all better!"

So there it is, Dawson's first prayer request and first answered prayer.