About a week ago, Jane ran into the kitchen with a look of terror on her face.

"Ghost! Ghost!"

She had run from a room where she was completely alone. It was broad daylight. Still, it kinda creeped me out.

Because we responded so enthusiastically the first time, she now does it about three times a day. Usually, she has a smile on her face. But every now again, her fear is quite genuine.

The spookiest/cutest ever was the other day. She ran in yelling, "Baby ghost! Baby ghost!"

I ain't changing its diaper.


We have been very well taken care of since Al's birth by our friends and neighbours. Mostly in the food department (though, the lawn mowing department ain't too shabby).

We have had so much food dropped off that Al was eight days old before I had to wonder what to make for supper.

I mentioned this fact to a friend who was dropping off dinner for the second time.

Friend: Say what you will about Cape Bretoners, but we keep you fed.

Updated: Nachips Butt Soap

*see end of post for update

Henry and I were halfway through our grocery trip when I found the most peculiar item on our shopping list: Nachips Butt Soap.

"Is Nachips a brand of butt soap?" thought I. "Does Erin use butt soap? Is there such a thing as butt soap?"

Following Erin's shopping lists is an adventure at the best of times. She's fond of creative short forms. I remember one time spending several minutes staring at the word bloobs. Did you figure out she meant blueberries? I did, only after noticing their proximity on the list to strawbs.

Here's your assignment: Leave your interpretation of Nachips Butt Soap in the comments. Extra points if you can come up with a good marketing slogan (ex. "Mr Nachips, you make GOOD butt soap").

Update: It was actually two items written serendipitously close to each other. Nachips, as many guessed, was nacho chips. Butt Soap was soap to scrub Al's cloth diapers with. I actually cracked the code in the middle of the produce aisle.


That's right. You read correctly.

While Henry and Jane munched on their snack of apple slices and popcorn, my mind turned to an engineering problem: how to get this crunchy, salty corn airborne.

I made a paper cone just big enough to hold one piece of popcorn. I taped it to the air spout of Henry's Super Slammer (a toy that shoots an airplane across the room when you pound on a small plastic bellows).

Voila. A Popcorn Cannon.

We took turns firing popcorn into each other's mouths for nearly an hour. Imagine the giggling.

Then, the inevitable cleanup of the floor ('cause we missed..... a lot).

Can I stay on paternity leave for the rest of my life?

That would be nice. Thank-you.

1 week down, 11 to go.

Hormones can be fun! (not really)

*I have full permission to tell this story.

I walked upstairs the other morning to find Erin hanging up the phone from a longish call. She was weeping.

Me: What's wrong?

Her: (sob) It's nothing. (sob)

Me: Come on.. who were you talking to?

Her: The lady at the (sob) health department.

Me: Oh.. did she give you a hard time over the health card number?

I should interject to say we had a home birth with a midwife in a province that is only now in the early stages of recognizing midwifery. We've had to do things like getting a health card, birth certificate, etc ourselves.

Her: No. (sob) She gave it to me.

Me: Then, what's wrong?

Her: (blows nose) It's just... she was so nice!! (sob)

Jane's new reality

I was upstairs in the bedroom, changing Alice's wee, infant diaper. I wasn't doing it fast enough (apparently), so she started crying at me. You know: that tiny, tin-can cry that newborns have.

I didn't realize Jane had followed us up and was standing behind me. She was not happy with the sounds our until-recently silent baby was making.

Jane: Loud! Loud!

words words and one photo

I know I once promised to only provide words on this blog, but when you have kids this cute, you exploit.

Thanks for all the kind words, everyone.

I have no energy to write, but I have to brag about three things:

1. I totally KNEW it was a girl! No one believed me.

2. I'm the world's best swaddler.

3. Erin is amazing. Jeesh.

It's a girl!

And her name is Alice.

And I'm very tired.

But not as tired as Erin.

Send casseroles.

Things are going to change around here, blog.

Mummy and I have already had a chat with Henry and Jane. I've been putting off having this talk with you for too long.

Things are soon going to be very different around here. When the baby comes -- and it could be any day now -- I might not have as much time to spend with you.

Babies take a lot of work. Oh sure, they're lots of fun! And there are lots of things you can do to help. But... the most helpful thing you can be is patient. Daddy may not be able to post as often as he usually does.. for a while.

It's not that Daddy doesn't love you! You'll always be Daddy's special blog! It's just that I know that you're a big blog now! You can play by yourself more than you used to.

That's a good blog.

That kind of dad

We attended a birthday party this weekend for a little girl who was turning one. A couple of hours in, I slunk my way to the empty kitchen. I kept a keen eye on the door while I shoved handfuls of cracked pepper and olive oil Triscuits in my mouth.

A little girl walked in. She was maybe 3-years old. She carried a toy that had just been unwrapped in the still-ongoing mayhem of gift opening. It was stuck to the package with Fort Knox Security-style plastic ties.

The girl looked up at me with imploring eyes. She lifted the toy towards my Triscuit-filled face. I took it from her, then fished around in my pocket for my jack knife. Ah, yes. I remembered it.

Four quick snips later, the toy was free. She smiled, took it from my hands, and ran back to the party.

Me: Aaaaaand... back to the Triscuits.

I'm that kind of dad.

The baby is due TOMORROW

oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man. Dat crazy.

Me: Want me to live blog the birth?

Erin: No.

They egged my house

Seriously. I woke up this morning and found egg all over the front of my house. To use some stronger-than usual language for tomato transplants: I was mighty ticked off.

I walked down the street to see if anyone else's house was hit.

Nope. Just random us.

I filled a bucket with hot water and vinegar, grabbed a j-cloth and headed out to scrub the window. Henry grabbed his own bucket and followed along to help.

I was so grumpy. Too grumpy. Everything made me mad. I kept snapping at Henry for slopping water all over the place.

Then, I thought of Bruce McCulloch from Kids in the Hall. Specifically, his open letter to the guy who stole his bike tire.

I felt much better. And Henry really was being a great helper. Within minutes, we were laughing.

Then we had scrambled eggs for breakfast.

Jane would like you to know...

Jane: Chop down!

Me: Something was chopped down? What?

Jane: Boosh!

Me: The bushes at the front of our house?

Jane: Yah!

Me: Which ones?

Jane: (frowning, wriggling her fingers) Picky.

Me: The picky ones that we all hated?

Jane: Yap.

Me: Who cut them down?

Jane: Wayne!

Me: Our neighbour, Wayne?

Jane: Mmm hmm. Men!

Me: And some men helped him?

Jane: Two.

Me: Two men?

Jane: Mmm hmm. Truck.

Me: They came in a truck?

Jane: Blue!

Me: A blue truck?

Jane: Yas. (pause, thinking) Loud!

Me: Was it loud? They must have had a noisy saw.

Jane: Yas. Chop down.

Erin is not heartless

Contrary to what you may have read previously, Erin is pretty rad. She just completed sewing a wall hanging for the baby's room.

She salvaged an old quilt of my grandma's. It was the quilt that covered my bed when I was Henry's age. It was demoted to a dog blanket probably 20 years ago.

Not all of it was recoverable. Of the 12 original squares, Erin was able to save nine. It took a lot of time and patience to patch up some very old holes, but she did it. It's on the wall now, and it looks great.

Not heartless.

Shame on you for thinking so.

Erin is heartless

Me: Do you realize it's been nearly 9 months since Murph died?

Erin: Has it been that long?

Me: Yeah.

Short, thoughtful pause.

Erin: Good-old Murpha-girl.

Me: I know.

Erin: I miss her so much.

Me: Me too.

Another pause.

Me: I think I'm ready to love again.

Erin: We're having a baby in a week and a half. Save your love for that thing.