Today is the day. It’s the type of day you begin to dream about after you come home from the hospital. Long after the sleepless nights have ended and diapers are just a memory, the day has finally come when we throw caution to the wind and tell saturated fat and ridiculous amounts of refined sugar they don’t matter today. Because today, my friends, is “Donuts for Dads” day at pre-school. Dads from near and far get to call in to work and tell The Man to shove it, because instead of working we are going to sit down in miniature chairs at tiny tables with our sons and our daughters, eating mounds of gooey donuts stacked higher than the Tower of Babel, getting our freshly-pressed shirts covered in powdered sugar and chocolate sprinkles. With so many dads there at one time, there will likely be a pushup contest and other feats of strength. Oh, and it also happens to be Wear-Your-Pajamas-And-Bring-A-Teddy-Bear-To-School Day for the kids. Is there a better way to spend fifteen to twenty minutes of your time as a parent?

Yesterday I took Sebo to Publix. It’s become a welcome weekly routine for us – I get to spend some daddy time with him and it gives Michelle a little break at home. He has started calling it Publix but he used to call it The Green Store because their logo is green. Future artist.

After we find a green-car-shopping-car to race around the store in, we head over to the bakery to grab his free cookie. Usually with sprinkles. It’s a nice little treat for him and a good distraction, because it takes him half the trip to eat it. Sometimes we hit the flower aisle and he picks a balloon-on-a-stick to carry around the store, and we return it before we check out. He’s really good about that sort of thing, he understands he can’t take everything home that he wants. So often we let him play with things just while we are at the store and that’s usually enough to satisfy him.

I love the way his mind works. I pointed out some bananas to him. “Those aren’t bananas,” he said. “That’s cheese.” I said it didn’t look like cheese. He said, “Because the cheese is pretending to be a banana.”

After watching a few episodes of Extreme Couponing we decided to start clipping coupons again. On the show, they buy $1,000 worth of stuff, enough toothpaste to outfit the soldiers in WWII, and pay about three bucks for all twenty cartfulls. On the other hand, I moonwalk down the aisle if I save fifty cents on a jar of barbecue sauce. Last night in the dog food aisle there was a coupon dispenser near the dog treats, and I pulled one off and handed it to Sebo. He looked at it and asked, “Is it mine?” I told him yes, and he took it and grinned. Then he folded it in half. Then in half again, and again. It wasn’t folding how he wanted, so he let out a little frustration grunt and started over. He was concentrating very hard, folding it over and over until he ended up with a little perfect square. He held it up proudly and said, “I’m done!” He was so happy with his folded little square, he showed it off to other shoppers the rest of the time were were in the store. And then when we were walking back out to the car, he unfolded it and asked to put it back in the envelope with the rest of the coupons. I asked him why, because he could keep it folded it he wanted to. He told me he wanted to use the coupon later.

So tonight I watched the water drain out of the tub for the first time since I was a kid. I think. At least I don’t remember watching it for a long time, so I’m assuming it probably happened quite a long time ago.

Tonight we gave Sebo the option to take a bath or to not, and he chose to not. He loves baths, so I was a little surprised, but it was no big deal. When the clock hit eight and it was time to head back to his bedroom and start getting ready for bed, he decided he wanted to take a bath after all. At first I told him he’d missed his chance, and he acted like he was crushed (maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t – it’s hard to tell, the boy’s a natural). And then it hit me that he’s not asking to drive the Tuscon or telling me he’s wanted a cat his whole life – he’s asking to bathe. In a lot of households that’s like he’s saying he wants to eat his sprouts and put away the dishes. So I quickly changed my tune and told him he could have a bath for ten minutes, and that I was going to set the timer and when the timer rang, we needed to get out and get ready for bed. He agreed.

So he took his bath as I sat on the floor beside him and we played with the numbers and letters that magically cling to the porcelain, and the plastic boats, and the Buzz Lightyear scrubby sponge thing and blue shark that both shoot water out of their mouths. We had fun like we usually do, and after ten minutes we heard the Marimba beat coming from my iPhone and that meant it was time to get out.

Our tub has one of those old-timey white rubber stoppers with a chain on the end, which we thought was kinda strange when we moved into the place, but it’s really no big deal and I actually think they are kinda neat. We pulled all the letters and numbers and toys out of the tub so nothing would get lost down the drain, and then as he likes to do, Sebo pulled the chain and popped out the stopper. Then he turned onto his stomach and watched the water start to go down. I decided to stop drying the toys or whatever I was doing and watch with him.

That’s when we both saw the little water tornado that forms as it’s going down the drain. He saw it and looked up at me and we shared a smile, and then he looked back. I thought about telling him that it was kind of like a tornado, but then didn’t want to chance scaring him, and then thought aren’t they called something else when they are out in the water? A spout or something? Can’t remember. Then I thought about telling him how if we were in Argentina it would be spinning in the opposite direction, but then I would have to figure out how to explain where Argentina was, and so I didn’t tell him that either. So we just sat there in silence, watching something together that happens a billion times a day, sharing a moment that made such an ordinary thing special to us, and I wondered how many thousands of these little moments I’m missing every single day because I’m in such a hurry and don’t just slow down and be.

I absolutely love that Target is using a little boy in their ads who has Down syndrome … and not calling attention to it. It’s not an ad about disability. It’s not an ad asking to join a cause. It’s just an ad and he’s just a kid. The boy is six years old and his name is Ryan, and he was also in a Nordstrom catalog. You can read an article about him here, but this quote sums it up for me:

The best thing about Target and Nordstrom’s casting of Ryan is that he’s not singled out in any way — he’s just another super cute kid smiling for the camera. The ads are inclusive, yet they aren’t trying to prove a point. They come across as completely ordinary, which in this case is a really wonderful thing.

Sebo loves counting down the days until something happens. It’s his way of understanding the passing of time. He will ask, “Am I going back to Granny’s house in three days?” He understands the phrases soon and in a little while. He gets it when we say we have to leave at 8:45 so he has to start getting dressed at 8:15. One of his favorite Christmas presents was this little red Chick-Fil-A watch that his friend Ben gave to him. He gets time, and strangely always has, which is good because I don’t really know how you teach somebody about time. It’s too weird. And it’s all relative and changes constantly and then they are bound to ask if time travel is possible, and I just don’t know how to deal with it. In the end I usually just refer people to Back To The Future or Kate & Leopold and let them decide for themselves.

What was I talking about?

Oh right. To sum up, the kid digs time.

Sebo has one of those little potties in his room that we have to empty after he uses it. He also uses the regular bathroom, which he calls My Big Potty, and is right next to his bedroom, but he likes having options. As long as he’s using something other than diapers, I’m cool with it. Yesterday he wanted me to help him turn on some lights so that he could go to the potty. I did, following behind him so I could turn the lights on, and he went into his room to use what he calls My Little Potty. As soon as he entered his room, he turned to me, asked me to wait in the bathroom for him, and as he was closing his bedroom door for privacy he yelled out “for two days.”