The Curious Case of Toddlerhood

I just came home after a great day, and Anna tells me we've had another first:  the first child to fall out of bed.  It was Wyatt.  Thank goodness it wasn't a bunk bed.  Anna's best guess is that Wyatt was reaching for a football that was on the floor and tumbled head-long towards the ground.  What made matters worse for Wyatt was the constriction of the three blankets wrapped mummy-style around his body.  That's his latest thing:  wanting us to tuck him in with not one blanket (keep in mind that it's like 150 degrees outside right now and a cool 95 in our house), but three blankets.  Usually, he looks like a Turk in a steam room after about five minutes.

Anna did manage to coax Wyatt to give up one of the blankets, he climbed his way back into bed to "sleep it off."  

This is on top of my trip with Wyatt to a baseball game yesterday.  It was Labor Day and all, and I know Wyatt loves to watch sports - especially live ones, so I figured, "hey, who cares if it feels like molten lava could easily descend from the sky at any moment and consume my fatiguing body, it's a great day for some baseball."  

Well, we get there, and I fork over a small fortune for a bratwurst and a regular RC Cola and head into the stadium.  Wyatt is so excited.  I'm feeling like super dad.  Things are good.  

Now, remember this:  since I'm holding brat and cola in respective hands, I can't hold onto Wyatt's hand.  So, I'm telling him to walk this way and that, to stop lingering, to stay close by.  And, he's doing fairly well, trailing me like a little puppy.  Next thing I know, though, he goes berserk, yelling "Da ... da ... da," while also seemingly hyperventilating.  He makes his way over behind my friend to take shelter while still crying out my name.  About then, I realize what is happening:  Evan the Otter - the local misfit mascot - has appeared at the top of the steps like some horrible golem from the Ohio River.  The poor guy in the suit absolutely froze, uncertain whether to come closer or to flee the scene.  I maneuvered my way over to Wyatt, knelt beside my friend and tried to explain to Wyatt that this was just some guy in a suit, which I now know is probably not the easiest concept to explain to a two and a half year old child.  

In the end, I don't think Wyatt saw more three at bats in the game.  That dang otter.  Every time Evan would come out to cheer up the crowd, Wyatt would scream bloody murder and bury his head into my chest.  

Anyhow, if you see this otter, please make all necessary precautions with your children:

Wes