If you had told me this 10 years ago…

We went to a toddler party this morning and a librarian party this afternoon. As we drove gratefully down our street heading for home, we saw people parking on our street and walking up to our neighbors’ doors. I realized that it was only 7:30, a perfectly normal time for normal people to begin parties, and also a time that some of the people I used to party with took their pre-partying Saturday evening naps.

I think I’m going to lie down, but not so I can get up at 11:00.

You can help my friend Colin see his sons again

My friend “and soon to be colleague” Colin Bower is going through one of the most difficult ordeals I can imagine as a parent. His sons, Noor and Ramsay, were kidnapped by their mother a year ago and taken to Egypt. Colin, who won sole custody of the children in the divorce, has had no contact with his sons since they left the U.S., despite having made many trips to Egypt.

Colin’s ex-wife’s friends and family have refused to return his calls. An Egyptian court has granted him visitation, but when he traveled to Egypt to see them, he waited in a park for seven hours and they never turned up.

Colin is a strong and private man, and I know how difficult it is for him to be discussing this in public. But he’s also a devoted father who wants his sons back more than anything on Earth, and he knows that drawing attention to this issue is the best way to make that happen.

You can help by going to the Facebook page Help Bring Noor and Ramsay Home, and clicking “like.” The more people who do that, the more attention that we draw to this issue, the better the chances that all of the people and agencies involved will do the right thing. There are a few other ways suggested on the page that you can help as well.

Last year, Colin was in town and I gave him a ride to the airport. First, we picked up The Boy at daycare, and he rode with us. Colin and Conrad discussed Conrad’s favorite thing at the time, the cartoon show “Caillou,” about a little Canadian boy. Conrad was very excited to find that Colin was a fan as well. Colin told Conrad he used to watch Caillou with Noor and Ramsay. I could tell the conversation was difficult for him.

After I dropped Colin off at the airport, Conrad and I were driving home and he couldn’t stop talking about Colin. Finally he said, “Colin fly on a airplane. He like Caillou. He a good man.”

He is a good man. And a good father. Help him see his sons again.

Update: the Big Boy Bed

As described here recently, The Boy made his desire to transition from crib to big boy bed known last week by flipping himself over the rail and busting in on his parents’ morning ablutions. So far, it’s been fairly smooth. Most of the time he gets that he’s supposed to lie there.

There have been a couple of nap- and bedtimes in the last week where I despaired of our decision. On two occasions when I put him down, he was so wired that he was literally doing somersaults on the mattress. It was at those times that I fully realized the import of what we had done: his bed was no longer a holding pen where we could dump him against his will and slink away.

That realization felt as though something really significant: a safety net, or backup plan that we had seldom used but still relied upon: had been taken away. I remember thinking on one of those occasions, “Am I going to have to sit here like a nightclub bouncer, barring his exit until, after hours of struggle, he finally gives up and goes to sleep?”

Of course, as with almost all of my more dire parental worryings, that didn’t happen. Some nights he fights it, some nights he accepts it. He has slept through the night every night, and wakes up where we left him.

Today at nap time, though, it seemed especially touch-and-go. The Mrs was putting him down, and after quite some time “and effort” she came out into the hall, said goodnight, and sat down on the steps to see what he would do.

He called for her for quite a while. Then we heard the sound of him trying to defeat the slippy plastic childproof door handle anti-turning devices. Then we heard a short burst of determined footsteps. Then nothing.

We sat and waited for close to ten minutes. “If he was fashioning a weapon of some kind,” I suggested, “I think we would have heard something by now.”

Eventually we went downstairs and haven’t heard anything since. I just took a risk and slowly, carefully stuck my head in the door. He’s not standing on the windowsill or lying under the dresser or swinging from the light fixture. He’s asleep in his big boy bed.

Of course. Where else would he be?

Some milestones come sooner than you’re ready

This morning, The Boy woke up and started calling for us, the way he usually does. The Mrs and I were in the middle of our slowly-returning-to-the-land-of-the-living rituals when we heard a thump, followed by the unmistakable pitter patter of little feet.

Conrad came running in to the bathroom and slid to a stop, Roadrunner-style, grinning at us with a look that said, “I know I’m probably not supposed to be here, what with having climbed out of the thing you put me in at night that is clearly intended to contain me, but still, you have to admit, it’s pretty cool.”

It was hard to get mad at him, seeing how proud he was of himself. We had a brief, half-hearted discussion about staying in his crib until Mommy or Daddy came to get him. I’ll let you know tomorrow how effective it was.