Daddy’s friend Brad postulates that the tradition of men leaving home for work arose out of the need to keep men from eating their young. Daddy can relate. But Daddy works from home. What keeps Daddy from eating his young? Sometimes they’re cute. Cuteness is a highly evolved toddler survival mechanism. In spite of nutty toddler behavior, abject destruction and the cardinal sin of taking a swat at Mommy, one flash of a sufficiently cute smile melts Mommy & Daddy’s hearts. All is forgiven. Compassion and love spontaneously wash away the impact of a thousand indiscretions.
One the first and still one of the best shows they put on is milk bottle time. We warm the milk formula and bring it out. The cry goes up, “Whoooaaa!!”, and the boys rush to the milk zone. They lay down on the milk sheet, a holdover from Vietnam where we used a bedsheet on the floor to cue milk time. Now they bring out the sheet themselves and … sort of … set it up. Total bliss as three wild toddlers settle in for a few minutes of silence and slurping. Sadly this ritual will be ending soon as we plan to move away from the formula.
Daddy’s favorite cuteness is the plasma train. Plasma cars are clever ride-on toys powered through the force of wiggling the steering wheel back and forth. First the boys pushed themselves along with their feet. Then they did the wiggle-power method. Finally, Tai innovated the Plasma Train, whereby the front of one Plasma car is hooked over the back of the car in front of it. They all cruise along chanting their signature, “Dey! Dey! Dey!” Definitely cute.
The boys love books. They love to tear books, eat books, break book spines and steal books. But they also love to read books … well … they love look at the pictures. We have book circles. Everybody sits in the circle and has a book to look at. Grunt! Point! That’s a flower. Grunt! Point! That’s a dog. Grunt! Point! That’s an airplane. And so on. They grunt and point and we name the thing. For popular things like flowers and airplanes, each boy will independently grunt and point and require his own naming of the thing.
When they want a book, they nod. They nod as if they are saying “yes”, presumably a result of Mommy or Daddy asking, “Do you want a book?” with an affirming nod. But now nod doesn’t mean “yes”, it means “I want a book”. So they nod. They nod with determination. Relative to their body size, toddlers have huge heads, and watching them whip that thing down and back up at lighting speed gives Daddy neck cramps. It’s also cute.
Nhan adds to the effect as the only one who has learned how to say “please”. It comes out “peas” in his delicate viet-english accent. “Peas … “, nod, nod. Hearts melt. We go and get books. Always.
When not shoving, hitting, biting, kicking, scratching, pinching or stealing from each other, the boys are touchingly tender with each other. They hug to make up. They kiss to show affection. They pat their brothers ever so gently to express remorse, or to provide a healing touch to the day’s owies. When one is about to perform a forbidden act, the other two will wag their fingers and entire lower arm in a grand gesture of “No-no”, never mind that ten minutes later either of the waggers may next play the miscreant role.
They boys are riotously helpful. It’s cute. They put their dirty clothes in the hamper … with a bit of micro-management. “Put the clothes in the hamper. No, the hamper. There. Yes, the basket. No, don’t touch the washer. No. NO!! OK, good job! Let’s go out. Out. OUT out out out out out out. No-no. Don’t touch the water heater. That way. Out. Out out.”
They put away their toys before dinner. “OK, everybody, humm humm time”. Humm-humm is the family word for food … it’s a Czech thing. “Put your toys away. Put the toys on the shelf. No, don’t play with the toys, put them away. Nhan, stop bossing your brothers around and help. Put the toys away. Put the toys away. Tai, no, stop playing. Do you want humm-humm? No humm-humm if you don’t stop playing. Tam, on the shelf, honey, not on the table. Put the toys on the shelf.”
They fetch the diaper supplies from the shelf before changing. “One diaper. Just one diaper. Only one. No, Nhan, I’m changing Tai. Nhan, you wait … NO! … damn … don’t pull all those diapers … Tam, no, leave the tea tree oil there … don’t open that, I’ll put it on you … Nhan, stop pulling out the wipeys … here, give me that … NO! … damn … YOU! Over here! … Tai, let me get your shirt off …”
They even point out when we’ve left a toddler gate open … a clear security breach. This is really helpful. I don’t quite get it. They climb over the gate, charge the gate, kick the gate, whine about the gate, crawl under the gate, rip out the bars and step through the gate and, when it’s left wide open, remind me to lock the gate. It’s like a prisoner letting the guard know that his cell door is unlocked. A challenge thing? Unconscious habit? Who knows. But this is also cute.
Each night Mommy and Daddy put the boys to bed. We read a story. Then we play How Tall Are You? Mommy and Daddy sit on the floor. The boys stand on our legs. We ask, “How tall are you?” The boys raise their arms straight up and we finish with, “That tall!!” We do this a couple dozen times. It sounds stupid, I know. But they do it with all three of them holding hands, raising their arms in unison. When we finish a round of How Tall Are You?, the triplets unleash a squealing, clapping, leaping frenzy of joy-joy-to-the-point-of-drooling and hurl themselves into our laps like amped up rock stars into a crowd. Each day this is the peak moment of triplet ebullience. It’s also the peak moment of Daddy laughing. Sometimes they’re really cute.
Then they party. It’s been a long day full of hikes, no-no’s, eating, drinking, falls and scoldings. They party hard and long, eventually falling asleep blanketless, feet dangling over the bed’s edge, arms crooked at all angles, with pillows and plush toys strewn about the room, generally presenting the image of now hung-over rock stars the morning after.
Every morning Daddy wakes up and says to himself, “Today I’m going to be gentle with the kids. Today I’m not going to lose it.” And every day … so far … there comes a moment where Daddy loses it. Maybe it’s a moment when Daddy yells. Or a moment when Daddy pushes. Or a moment when Daddy grips too tightly. Nhan has even started wagging his finger at Daddy. “No-no, Daddy! You shouldn’t be doing that to me” says the gesture, and Nhan is right.
Every night Daddy goes into the boys’ room, picks the blankets off the floor and covers the sleeping toddlers. As he does so, Daddy likes to imagine that the boys are watching Daddy in their dreams and know that, in spite of whatever that went wrong that day, Daddy loves the boys. Daddy likes to imagine that each night as he covers a boy with a blanket, he forgives the boy and the boy forgives him. Tomorrow can be a fresh start. Sometimes Daddies are cute, too.
