To my beautiful daughter,

You have entered a stage of development where you have become a bit picky with what you choose to ingest. You used to be the best eater in the world (Besides your brother - but you can’t compete against that boy. He sucks down anything in a 5-foot radius.). You would eat anything I put on your tray. I mean, I put down oatmeal with brown sugar on your breakfast tray every weekday morning for a year straight and you shoveled it down like you’d never tasted something so freaking delicious. Then, one day, you looked me right in the eye and said…

“Daddy, I no like eat-mo-meal.”

And just like that it was on. You decided that some days blueberries were the fruit of the gods and other days that you wouldn’t touch that blueberry if Dora herself handed it to you. In fact, there were days when you’d eat nothing but fruit. Bananas, pears and nectarines were the staple of your diet. You became a total fruitarian overnight. While I complained constantly, your brother did not complain one bit. After all, you were sitting within that five foot radius. He devoured your leftovers like a little pound puppy.

So, while you have suddenly become a food critic who only appreciates the finest of cuisines and since I happen to make many of your meals and I cannot help but take these jabs at my culinary skills personally, I would like to address something that came up this weekend that, in light of the circumstances, needs to be further discussed.

You have been fighting a cold, little one. Your little nose has been stuffed with all sorts of gooey, green, slimy substances. And while you are adept at blowing your nose, even your little honking was no match for what was oozing out of your nostrils on a continuous basis. And, it just so happens, that this weekend I watched as you walked by me. You did not notice me watching you but as you walked by, you stuck your right index finger so far up your nose I thought it might be lost forever. But, instead, you came out with some green treasure. And just as I was about to lean over and show you the nearby tissue box where you could deposit that little nugget, you promptly popped it into your mouth. Mmmmmm. Mmmmmm. Good.

So, the next time you tell me you’re not going to eat any of the food I labored hard to provide you, I’m not going to take it personally. After all, since you seem to enjoy a good booger hors’doeuvre from time to time you’ll forgive me if I don’t get too offended.

I should probably tell you, for posterity’s sake, that earlier this month - right after the new year - we had grand ideas of potty training Swee’Pea and TheMonk. We took them to Babies-R-Gonnaget-Us and we picked out a potty seat. We then picked out underwear. Swee’Pea chose Dora and Princess underwear while TheMonk decided on Lighting McQueen, Mater, and the whole Cars Movie gang.

We bought the little flushable “Todder wipes” that sit in their own colorful little tub for the extra wiping that was anticipated once our little ones decided to unleash their insides into the proper receptacle.

We even bought little stools to help them get up onto their porcelain throne.

And this might be a good time to mention that I was not looking forward to this at all. The thought of peeling clothes soaked in bodily fluids off a toddler while suffering through the sobs of anguish was more than I could bear. Besides, I hate it when I cry in front of the kids.

But I’m a good dad. And good dads always agree with good moms when they say, “I think we should start potty training the kids.” But my heart was not in it. This is the one time where I am really moaning about having twins. If we had just one, then it wouldn’t be such a big deal because the wife and I could trade off cleaning up the mess. We would have only one mess to clean up and the kid would decide when he or she was ready and we’d all do the potty dance and live happily ever after.

With two, it’s messier. With two, one might be farther along than another, not really be ready, but damnit is not going to miss the opportunity to wear underwear with a red car plastered on his behind. Two is more, you see.

But after two days of trying, 12 changes of clothes and three carpet washes later, we threw in the towel (We had to, it was soaked in urine).

So, no potty dances yet. Unless you count the one I did when my wife admitted defeat.

So, do I feel guilty that I wasn’t too into the potty training thing? Yeah, a little. I mean, I’m sure the other kids at daycare laugh at my kids and call them names like Diaper Dude and Daisy Diaper but it won’t be the last time my kids are embarrassed because of their old man.

At this rate, I wouldn’t mind just timing my work breaks to go and change diapers during Kindergarten. I mean, I wouldn’t want the other kids to make fun of them or anything. If only they made a size 10 diaper.

I have been remiss in updating the twins milestones. Since this is the de facto baby book for Swee’Pea and TheMonk, I should jot down what they’re doing for posterity’s sake.

TheMonk
Height: Whopping 33 inches
Weight: 32 lbs.

Language: TheMonk’s language has taken off in the past six months. He now speaks in full sentences and will speak to me on the phone. He can sing the entire Twinkle Twinkle Little Star song as well as Happy Birthday and his ABC’s, which he could do at age 26 months. In fact, he loves to sing. He has a very impressive capacity for remembering words to songs and after listening to a song a few times, he can sing along with little trouble.

TheMonk can also count to 11. He seems to have trouble once he gets to 12. Twelve must not be a number worth remembering because he’ll skip it every time. He can also count to 20 if you don’t care if he misses 14,15 and 19.

He is hit and miss with his colors but he will get purple every time. Red is also likely to get the correct response because that’s the color of fire trucks and Lightning McQueen.

The boy knows rules. Doors must be closed. Lights have to be turned off. I swear, it’s like living with a second wife sometimes.

As for his shapes, TheMonk knows circles and triangles. He’s working on the rest. If you ask him to point to a square, he’ll point to it. But if you point to a square and ask what it is, he doesn’t respond. It’s a work in progress.

Physically, he can walk up and down a flight of stairs, jump off a step, and he’s the best 2-year-old driver on the planet. He guides his plasma car through any obstacle course with his eyes closed.

Swee’Pea
Height: 33.5 inches
Weight: 28 lbs.

Swee’Pea can count. She not only can count to 10 but she can also count 10 objects - which are totally different things. She has been experimenting with her fingers and can show you one finger, two fingers, four fingers and five fingers with no problem. If she could only master the three fingers…

She knows her basic shapes. She can point out circles, triangles and squares. Rectangles still confuse her but they confuse me too so I’m not too worried.

The girl’s language rocks. She can talk and talk… and talk… and talk… and talk. But if you meet her for the first time, she’ll act a little timid towards you, lull you into thinking she’s shy, and then… BAM! She talks your ear off.

She knows all of her colors. Black, Brown, Orange, Green, Blue, Red, Pink, Purple, Yellow. Her favorite color has been pink but lately yellow has crept into the mix.

She is a great climber and climb up onto a barstool all by herself. She is incredibly agile and can jump and twirl around on her tippy toes. She can also walk up and down stairs but isn’t as gung-ho and reckless as her brother so she often chooses to climb up and scoot down stairs.

She can put her shoes on all by herself and tries really hard with the socks but if she doesn’t slip her toe in after a couple of tries she gets frustrated and stops. We’re working on that.

So, that’s what my little ones are up to. I’m sure I’ve forgotten some things but at least when they’re older they won’t be able to whine about how I never filled out their baby books.

So, Busy Mom had to put pay up on our little wager. The Chargers finally figured out what to do about half-way through their playoff game against Busy Mom’s vanquished Tennessee Titans.

The loser had to write a post about how wonderful the other’s state is. Luckily, I didn’t have to research beyond Graceland. You can go and see Busy Mom’s Tribute to California here.

This is a great start to my week. Monday I begin my brand new job as Executive Director at a new Y. I’m off to get a full night’s sleep as visions of lighting bolts dance in my head. Wish me luck!

Yesterday, we stopped by the local pumpkin patch so Swee’Pea and TheMonk could pick out their pumpkins. The patch had separated the pumpkins by size but they also had a small section where loose pumpkins, most small, were laying on the ground ready to be picked up.

We headed over to this section and turned Swee’Pea and TheMonk loose. They were very excited and ran over to pick up the first pumpkins they saw. Wanting them to get a little out of this experience, we encouraged them to roam around and look for a pumpkin to take home.

Soon enough, Swee’Pea had settled on her pumpkin and TheMonk had settled on his. Now, the more experienced pumpkin chooser might suggest that Swee’Pea and TheMonk have a ways to go when it comes to choosing the perfect pumpkin. I prefer to think of Swee’Pea and TheMonk as bucking the status quo. They are trend setters, not trend followers.

Why would they choose a boring, everyday-looking pumpkin, when they can choose a unique, one-of-a-kind pumpkin that is unlike any other pumpkin adorning the porches of American cities this week?

Perfectly orange pumpkins are so passé. Pumpkins that aren’t rotting out the bottom are too mainstream. Swee’Pea and TheMonk are taking Halloween traditions and turning them on their gourd.

But don’t take my word for it. I give you photographic proof of the pumpkin choosing ability of my kids.

TheMonk’s on the left and Swee’Pea’s is on the right.

Tonight, Swee’Pea and TheMonk were introduced to sushi - and all it’s accoutrements.

It didn’t start out as an introduction to sushi. Swee’Pea and TheMonk sat down to a meal of teriyaki chicken and rice while Mommy ate her Mexican Taco sushi roll and Daddy ate his Banana & Shrimp sushi roll (Hey, it’s southern California - our sushi is just different).

Before long, both Swee’Pea and TheMonk expressed a strong interest in what we were eating. I didn’t want to share so I wolfed down my banana roll as quickly as possible. I know. I’m a giver.

Mommy, however, has not yet developed her sushi-hoarding skills. However, her sushi was spicy so I think she figured Swee’Pea and TheMonk wouldn’t like it. Upon first tasting the spiciness of Mommy’s sushi sauce both Swee’Pea and TheMonk had similar reactions.

Bug Eyes followed by a quick trip to the sippy cup.

But no tears.

In fact, after they got over the initial shock, the spice was not big thing. Swee’Pea, in particular, was particularly enamored with the spice. She soon found out about the pickled ginger and kept asking for more of the “spicy pink.” She soon finished off the entire heap of ginger.

TheMonk, while eating an occasional slice of pickled ginger, was more of a “sweet” guy as he made sure to finish up his teriyaki chicken. It fits since he’s such a sweet boy.

Swee’Pea, on the other hand, has proven she is every bit as spicy as her taste.

Maybe I should change her name to “Spicy’Pea.”

It’s difficult not to compare your kids to other kids. It’s only natural that you want your kids to be doing whatever the other kids are doing when it comes to developmental skills. I mean you see this guy’s kid writing his name at age four and you’re thinking… “Impressive… Excuse me while I go find my kids and a pen.”

You read that this guy’s little guy is memorizing books and speaking philosophically and you start googling Philosophy for Children because, damn it, your kids need to catch up.

But then you remember what your kids can do. For instance, they both know the anatomically correct name for their “private parts.” Furthermore, Swee’Pea has proven to be a great teacher. Just today, PBS has thrown my morning routine into chaos by replacing Curious George and Clifford with Teletubbies and Barney the evil purple dinosaur. When TheMonk demanded to watch Curious George and I had already explained to him that it wasn’t physically possible to watch Curious George because his father was too cheap to purchase the DVR function from our local cable company, Swee’Pea finally got tired of TheMonk’s whining and said in a manner that was simultaneously cavalier and exasperated, “Curious George is all gone, Monk.” End of story.

Our kids read books too. Or should I say “book”? We have had to hide the Car Book from TheMonk as there’s only so many times you can look for the man in the dump truck. Swee’Pea has finally moved on from Goodnight Gorilla and we’re now into identifying objects in a Dora book. She’s got Boots and Dora down.

And then there’s the physical achievements of late. Just today, TheMonk walked by and Swee’Pea playfully swatted TheMonk on the behind. This will come in handy when she’s terrorizing quarterbacks in the NFL. TheMonk runs a lot now - but it ain’t pretty. In fact he’s a spitting image of Phoebe from Friends. As a former collegiate sprinter, this concerns me to no end. I’ve got to work on his arm swing. However, his training partner Swee’Pea pushes him every day (literally and figuratively) to do more and if he does someday achieve Olympic greatness, the genesis will be the days that Swee’Pea spent chasing her brother.

So there. My kids kick butt (or in Swee’Pea’s case, swat butt). What can your kids do?

On Monday, Swee’Pea came home from daycare with a couple of bruises on her legs. When asked how she got the “ow-ies” on her legs, she quickly replied, “Evan… Push me… Fall down…”

Now, it should be noted that this speaking in sentences is still a novelty and I thought it was pretty cool that my daughter had the ability to verbalize exactly how she got those bruises. Upon hearing about this scumbag guy named Evan who viciously attacked my little girl, I turned to her brother and asked, “Monk. Did Evan push Swee’Pea?” TheMonk, sitting across the room, looked up from the train he was playing with and looked me right in the eye and softly nodded, “Yes.”

“Did you kick his butt?” I asked, quickly realizing that maybe this wasn’t the best message to send to my 25-month-old son (we’ll have that talk in 9 or 10 years). Luckily, TheMonk was already back to playing with his train and didn’t seem to hear my question.

But I wasn’t going to forget about this Evan kid. Mommy and I agreed that we would inquire about this incident with our daycare provider. I didn’t want this Evan kid thinking he could just go around pushing cute little girls without some repercussions.

Upon arriving at the Daycare Provider’s house this morning, I inquired about the incident. While holding my sweet little girl in my arms, I relayed the story that Swee’Pea had told us about this punk Evan and his agressive little attitude. “Was this true?” I asked.

“No!” replied the Daycare provider. She laughed and recounted to me what really happened…

Apparently, Swee’Pea has a favorite blanket at daycare that she doesn’t allow anyone to play with or even touch. Monday, she had spread out her blanket on the floor and little Evan happened upon her and made the mistake of trying to touch Swee’Pea’s blanket. Well, Swee’Pea is prone to being a bit dramatic and immediately screamed out at the injustice of someone having the temerity to actually touch HER blanket. Upon screaming out, she flung her little body to the ground. Unfortunately for her, she happened to throw herself onto a pile of Legos and THAT is how my child received those “Ow-ies” on her sweet little legs.

While Daycare Provider told me this story, little Swee’Pea buried her face into my neck and wrapped her arms around me and held me, squeezing as tightly as she could. It was almost like she realized she was being busted.

Of course, you realize what this means, right?

My sweet little girl told her first lie this week.

My apologies to little Evan. You are a gentleman and a scholar.

Epilogue: The funnier part may have come this evening when Mommy went to pick up Swee’Pea and TheMonk at Daycare. Daycare Provider mentioned to Mommy the conversation we had this morning. Then she told Mommy that it was obvious that Swee’Pea was actually mad at her the rest of the morning for telling Daddy about her little lie. She refused to look at Daycare Provider the entire morning and was obviously upset with Daycare Provider.

You realize what this means right?

My little girl can hold a grudge.

Oh, and I realized my life will probably never be the same.

Seven years ago, I stood at the altar looking up the aisle towards the back of the church, feeling nervous and excited all at once. Suddenly, a vision of beauty appeared and took my breath away. Little did I know that this was, truly, just the beginning. At that moment I had no idea how much our relationship would grow and mature. I didn’t know how much better our relationship could be. I didn’t know that we would someday look at each other in wonder while watching our beautiful children play before us.

Seven years. Seven wonderful years. I love you honey. Thank you for marrying a guy like me.

And I can’t believe it’s been a week since the birthday party and I have yet to mention it. The party was a nice size. A few neighborhood friends joined Grandmother, Grandma, Grandpa and our niece Adelia.

We grilled some burgers and dogs, we downed a few sodas, we played in some bubbles and we sang happy birthday. Well, we kinda sang Happy Birthday. It seems Swee’Pea does not enjoy people singing that song to her. It’s a funny scene to be singing Happy Birthday and having the birthday girl screaming “No Happy Birthday!”

The day was exhausting but worth the effort. I’m not sure if we could have survived without the family members who all chipped in. Those of you reading this, you’re invited every year!

The stars of the show, besides Swee’Pea and TheMonk, were their individual birthday cakes. Mommy conceived the idea of doing personalized birthday cakes for Swee’Pea and TheMonk. Right now, Swee’Pea loves kitties. So, Mommy decided to do a Hello Kitty cake for her. TheMonk loves cars and trucks right now. So, Mommy decided to make TheMonk a car cake. I got to help by shaping both cakes to make them look like a kitty and a car. Mommy did the rest. The results were fantastic and Swee’Pea and TheMonk are still talking about their “kitty cake” and “car cake”.

So far, two years old has been really fun. A lot more time outs but a lot more talking and laughing too. Here’s to a great third year!

Hello my little two year old girl.

Two years old. Wow. I cannot believe how fast the time has gone. When I reflect on those first days of your life and how even then you had my heart wrapped around yours, I cringe to think how fast this is all moving. I have so loved being your daddy and I would just like it to slow down a little bit.

You see, my little girl, for as long as I could remember, I have wanted you. Not just any girl, mind you. No, I wanted you. I wanted a little girl who is so sweet she’ll help her brother up after he’s fallen or give him hugs when he’s not well. And I wanted that little girl who is so independent that she wants to do everything by herself - even when it means being totally frustrated. I wanted that little girl who is so passionate that she’ll dance in the middle of the room or scream when things don’t go her way. I wanted the beautiful little girl whose inner beauty shines just as strong. I wanted, and got, you.

You have transformed so much since those early days. In those days we thought that you were the quiet one. The gentle soul. The one who takes it all in without speaking. My how we were wrong. We were wrong because you are too complex to pin such a narrow view. For example, you definitely like to talk - but only when you are comfortable in your surroundings. You will spend an entire hour and a half of “nap” time talking non-stop but trying to get you to say hello to a stranger is an exercise in futility. Yes, you are complex. What you see on the outside isn’t what you’ll get when you dig a little deeper. I love that about you.

My favorite moments of being your daddy are classic “daddy’s little girl” moments. For example, I love it when you hold my hand as we walk up the steps to daycare. I love the way you say “Hi… Da-ddy” drawing out the words in a way that implies pure love and affection. I love the hugs you give me for no apparent reason other than to express your feelings. I love your goodnight kisses. I love those precious few moments when it’s just me and you and I can tell how very much you love being alone with your daddy. It makes me feel special.

And it is all going so fast. I try not to think about it but I cannot help but think that before I know it, I’ll be watching you go to the Prom or watching you walk down the aisle and it makes me want to hold onto my little girl and squeeze. I want to squeeze all the pure joy of little Swee’Pea into my heart and keep it there for eternity. I want to always remember what it feels like to nuzzle your soft cheek with my nose as we descend the stairs each morning - knowing that this will most likely be the only time I’ll have alone with you all day. I want to remember all of this because before I know it time will have moved on.

You are two years old and you’re already fine tuning your tantrum. Just today you were in rare form because I didn’t give you enough warning before ending our coloring activity. You, my little one, are full of passion - even when throwing a tantrum. Just take it easy on good old Dad, okay?

Happy Birthday, my precious Swee’Pea. I love you with all of my heart.