No matter how active or restful of a day Oliver and I have had, as the late afternoon approaches, he starts to get a little stir crazy. Or he's just tired of hanging out with mom. And I'm just, well, tired. Period. So make that two who are cranky. Distracting him is often useless at this point, and with his later wake-up time from his nap combined with an earlier dinner to accommodate that narrow window of opportunity when Oliver is in the mood to eat, but not yet too tired, there's not really much time to squeeze in a walk, the ultimate time-kill.

Then in walks Dad. The crying stops and Oliver smiles and laughs and pumps his fists and whole body up and down. He's so excited to see Daddy that I swear just the sight of him is going to motivate him to start walking just so he can get to him faster. Chris was as much of a victim of Oliver's early-onset separation anxiety as anyone else, but he now has the power to make Oliver the happiest little baby in the world.

He also induced what might have been Oliver's first tantrum by...leaving the room. Chris merely stepped out of his sight and Oliver's legs went stiff, he hung his head, pounded his fists and screamed. How could Daddy so cruelly stop playing with him? It had been so much fun. The "tantrum" was short and easily curable (apparently being picked up by Mommy can still make him happy), and thus, still cute.