Williamsburg, Toddlertown

Shana and I were interviewed by The New York Sunday Times Real Estate Section, a story about how young families are raising kids in Williamsburg (surprise!). The piece ran on my birthday (42 wtf) and for a few days, we felt like celebs. As it happened, Shana and I were in Turks & Caicos on a short vacation, the perfect place to escape the glare of the press. Just to be sure, we donned baseball caps and sunglasses. It worked, no one bothered us.

Here's the Sunday Times article: Williamsburg, Toddlertown

Here's the slide show from the online version: Slide Show.

The photographer made available his pics, where we can order prints. Here's that link to the gallery set up by the photographer, Roberg Caplin.

We got snarked on by the blogs but that's part of the fun. (Here's Curbed's take: What's the Hottest Trend in Williamsburg: Babies!) As I remarked to the journalist who wrote the story, it's difficult to talk about why you prefer your hood, or don't like another, without sounding like an asshole. Anyway, Nate looked cute and that's all that matters. Uh, not.

BONUS LINK! Our 2007 interview in The New York Post's Real Estate Section on Wiliamsburg's new construction condo boom and the young folks choosing to live there. What Will Be... With Thousands of New Homes on the Way, Williamsburg Grows Up.

Post Haircut

Nate post haircut looks more like a little boy, less like a baby. He's still scooting around, saying "hi" and "bye". After our most recent doctor's visit, we were told it was OK to give Nate milk in a bottle, so we do in the mornings and evenings. It makes him happy.

Hairgate

Shana wrote a terrific and funny piece for Brooklyn Based on Hairgate, a bizarre story that features Lucas the kid-hair stylist, my song mocking this lunatic mom (Gretta!) who lost it when Lucas was late to her bratty kid's haircut appointment, and Nate finally getting his haircut (from Lucas).

Green PJ's

Nate's new cool green pajamas make him look like a slightly skanky playboy. Which is precisely the look we're going for.

Protest

On this Sunday prior to the holidays, my Mom and Dad planned to drive into Manhattan and join the protest against the censorship of David Wojnarowicz's video at the Smithsonian Museum. Folks were upset that the head the Smithsonian ordered the National Portrait Gallery to remove Wojnarowicz's 4 minute video, bowing to pressure from right wing, anti-gay and religious nuts. This was Obama time, WTF! So Nate and I -- inspired -- planned to meet my parents on the UES for some serious marching, fist-raising and possibly even violence and/or looting.

But Nate first had to nap so that he was in a good state of mind. And then he was hungry so he had to eat his yogurt and pieces of omelet. And then it took time to dress him since it was chilly outside and of course there was some traffic.

So we were late and missed the protest. But while my Dad and Emma listened to the Giant/Eagles game in the car, my Mom, Nate and I found a diner in which to warm, grab a bite and hang for a bit.
There aren't many kid-friendly joints for 1-2 year olds in Williamsburg and so we've gotten used to feeding Nate at home. So this was weird and kind of adventurous being in restaurant with Nate, and it was hilarious to see Nate out in the world, eating a snack in a booth in a bustling diner, looking around making noises, playing with sugar packets, trying to drink out of a straw, saying "hi" to the waitresses and busboys and every other person around him. My Mom and Nate were a funny team on the west side of the booth, Nate eating his snacks and my Mom in her sunglasses and all black beatnik wear. I took several pictures so as not to forget.

Sunny Morning

Nate wants yogurt. Then he wants apple sauce. Oh wait, then he wants yogurt again. This boy has definite opinions about what he eats, when he eats and -- I'm sure one day -- how the overly-enthusiastic waitress could possibly recommend the braised short ribs.



In this regard, Shana understands him WAY more than I. Here is one video -- cut into three parts, each about 45 seconds long, of Shana and Nate on a random sunny morning, Nate eating breakfast and all of us listening to Pete Yorn's On Your Side.

Folly

It was back to Love's Folly post Thanksgiving. I took several nature walks with Nate, trying to teach him the word "tree". I carried Nate around the grounds, by the cove, the dock, the pond, the lonely road that snakes around the property near the neighbors, normally out of site from the house. Nate touched a wide variety of trees and bushes and tall weeds and leaves and branches. I tickled his face with pine needles. Nate craned his neck upward -- to the tops of trees -- when I pointed upwards. He reached for branches when they were presented to him. "Tree," I said again and again in various ways. "Tree." "Look at this. It's a tree." "Look at this tree. Wow. Tree." "Woa, check this tree out. It's a tree. Can you say tree?" "Look at this. It's a... a... a... Tree." Nate never said the word, but he seemed intrigued enough and happy to be outside. Later, after the walk, we sat in the deep grass and hung out outside in the crisp air. Nate played with some leaves. He looked around. He didn't move much. I pointed at the vast collection of tall pine trees near the pond. "Tree," I said. "Those are trees."