58

Here are the boys crowded around the mini-DVD player so their Daddies can watch sports. Wrong, isn't it?

I don't know if you know my husband. But usually when people are off from work, they want to walk away from anything relating to their line of work. Everyone needs a break. Not so with Daddy-O.

For him, heaven is sports 24-hours a day. You'd think the fact that he's a sports writer would take some of the magic away from the wide world of it. Sadly, this is not the case.

In fact, No. 1 often has to yell his Daddy's given name instead of his title in order to get his attention. With remote in hand, there seems to be nothing more pleasurable than flipping through ESPN X, Y and Z, ABC, FOX and the BTN.

But when you combine his disease with my brother's it is simply out of control. The uncle is just as obsessed. Truthfully, they should have married each other.

Thanksgiving weekend was literally filled with 20 + hours of sports -- probably more. And not just teams we should give a damn about... I understand the Spartans, the Lions... but Boise State? Miami of Ohio basketball? At least being a sportswriter, there is a smidge of an excuse... staying on the pulse and all that. But with my brother it just doesn't make sense. They would rather watch any kind of sports than do anything else -- except maybe eat. (Keep in mind, I don't hate sports. I don't. Trust me, I had to watch EVERY SINGLE Tigers game this summer. It was supposed to be a magical summer. Apparently, no one told them.)

Maybe you are wondering how it's possible two people out of a party of 12 would dictate the TV for an entire weekend. The truth is, I am not really sure. I think they just expect it and none of us challenge it.

But, guess what? Christmas is over for you two. Husband has lost all remote privileges in any house that he doesn't pay the cable bill. And my sister and I are sick of the brother always controlling the set. PSssst... it's OVER!

Note to you, husband and brother:

I would rather watch the same Baby Einstein with my boys and nephew 3 times in a row than another mindless sports event that has no legitmate reason for being on TV. You got 20 plus hours Thanksgiving. Sister and I (and your children) each get 20 plus programming hours. We're talking 100 hours of sports-free television. I can't wait!

If you are already scoffing and planning to ignore us, don't worry, I have one weapon: Jack. I can easily whisper in his ears and get him to want to watch something terrible, unbearable. And not just on the teeny DVD player that you used this past weekend.

So, let's play nice. Let's remember we're family and everyone should be somewhat satisfied with the entertainment over the holidays ...

Otherwise be prepared for Yo Gabba Gabba! (This has music, ridiculous dancing and colorful puppets. You'll hate it.)

Freddie, 8 months, Brennan 11 weeks, Jack, 3

57

Oh, how times have changed over these last 10 weeks.

Jack has never been vicious to his brother. From the moment Brennan arrived he's either been indifferent or interested and never, ever mean or angry. That's not to say he was thrilled about his arrival either.

These days he's turned into turbo big bro and is very protective of Brennan Fredrick -- as he often calls him. He's quick to run for a diaper yelling, "My brother needs a change!" or tell me he needs a bottle, "My brother is hungry! He told me he wants a bottle!"

Yesterday, I had both boys on my bed. Jack was watching Dora, Brennan was wedged in between two pillows covered with his favorite blanket. Both boys were safe, I assure you. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I turned back to check on the boys, Jack was holding Brennan's forearm.

"Holding the baby's hand?" I asked him.
"I don't want my baby to fall, Mama," he said, never taking his eyeballs off the show.

This afternoon, I dropped Jack off for school. Daddy had put Brennan in his carseat and he wasn't happy about it. As we pulled down the driveway, Jack turned to his brother and started talking to him, trying to get him to calm down.

"It's OK baby. Jack is here. I have to go to school. I know you are sad, but I will be back. And someday when you are big like me, you'll go to school with me. And we can be best friends. It will be great!"

And B stopped crying and just listened and smiled.

"He smiled Mama! He likes me! This is great!"

56

Daddy came home from Purdue around midnight last night. No.1 was trying hard to stay awake to see him. He wanted to tell him about the Santa Claus movie (Fred Claus), the latest boo-boo and his new toy he got at The Donald's.

No.2 was cashed out.

When he walked in the house, both boys were jammied up and under the covers cuddling. Jack practically squealed when he saw Daddy walk up the stairs. And he immediately filled him in on everything missed.

Meanwhile No.2 was perched on the pillows snoozing.

Jack and Daddy went on and on discussing the plot, examining the boo-booed nose. Daddy and I noticed Brennan open just one eye to see what was going on. Slowly, a smile spread across his tiny face and the other eye opened to make sure it really was Daddy.

Then his legs went crazy kicking, arms swinging in excitement. You could see it on his face: My Daddy is home!!

He started cooing and getting excited.
He completely recognized his Pop.

55

My boy Jack is a thinker. He grasps concepts that must be well beyond his age.

As with many children, he's a tinge obsessed with growing up. It's "When I'm bigger I can chew gum" and "When I'm bigger I can drive." It's a common comment from his three-year-old mouth.

But last night as we were getting ready for the bath, he said to me:

"When I'm bigger, I want to be a Daddy."

I told him he would be.

"And then when I become a Daddy, Daddy will become a Grumpa."

Brillant, I told him. That's true.

"And when Daddy becomes a Grumpa, you'll become a Grandma."

That's right, I told him.

"And then there will be two Grandma Rexes," he said holding up two fingers.

Shocking, isn't it? How did he grasp that concept? Most men three times his age can't wrap around it.

Then today as we cuddled on the couch he brought this Daddy talk up again.

This time I asked him if he was a Daddy, and Daddy was a Grumpa, and Mama was a Grandma Rex, what would Brennan be? He looked at me puzzled.
And I told him he'd be an uncle.

"Uncle Brennan, Mama? That's silly!" Jack said laughing hysterically and glancing at his infant brother happily vibrating.

But I assured him he would be. And then I said maybe his baby would call him Uncle B.

"Or Uncle Rex?"

Sure, I said laughing.

Next I asked him what he planned to name his baby.

"Fred, like my Ga," shrugging his shoulders.

Of course.