My son's first time in nursery

Rich’s first time in nursery was a complete success! When I opened the door to the classroom where nursery is held, I saw Sister Hansen sitting on the floor, playing with a toddler or two. In the corners were two other individuals tending to a few other kids.

ME: So Rich just turned 18 months old, and we’ve never done this before. How does this work?

SIS. HANSEN: You just leave him here with us...and we go from there!

ME: How often should I check on him?

SIS. HANSEN: Oh, you can check on him whenever. If we need anything, we’ll come find you. Where will you be?

ME: In priesthood right now. In elders quorum.

Now you need to know something. As soon as the door opened and he saw the other kids, Rich just lit up. About halfway through my conversation with Sister Hansen, Rich wanted down from my arms. When I did let him down—again, in the middle of our brief conversation—he walked right up to Sister Hansen and started talking to her. The rest was history.

Until I stopped in between priesthood and Sunday school to check on him. Sister Hansen was in the hallway, so I asked her how Rich was doing.

SIS. HANSEN: Great! He loves it. He just talks and talks and talks!

ME: Haha, yeah he loves kids and he’s a chatterbox.

When the Sunday school hour was up, I went to the nursery to “pick him up” so to speak. When the door opened, I saw him sitting in a little chair at a table against the wall, eating some snacks and having a good time. A few seconds later, he looked over his shoulder and saw me in the doorway, two other parents in front of me. When he made eye contact with me, he smiled that wonderful Richie smile and then went back to eating his snack. I made my way in and grabbed him. He was so happy and had so very much fun. Sister Hansen said he was great and there were no problems.

Love makes sense

One of the most memorable pieces of advice I ever received was from my brother Logan just days after Rich was born last August: "While there are many paths to raising children, there is really just one thing that they need. They just need you to love them."

Tonight, Rich would not go to sleep. He cried and cried and cried and Karen couldn't figure out what was wrong. Finally, she suggested I go up and help him. When I walked into the room, he was standing in his crib, facing the window. He didn't even notice I was there until I picked him up. Tears were streaming down his face and he looked so, so scared. I held him and rocked him and said over and over again, "You don't need to be scared, little boy. We love you so much." I spent time with him and he eventually calmed down. I put him down in his crib and handed him his stuffed dog, and he gave me a big smile. Not a peep came out of him from then on and he went right to sleep.

Who knows what he needed or wanted. For all we know he could've been saying, "Daddy! Daddy!" or, "I want more yogurt!".

Sometimes I just don't care what books and people say. Every kid is different, but ultimately they all just need to be loved. That's the best advice, and the one that makes the most sense to me. I mean come on, I have a math brain, and loving your children seems to make the most sense anyway.

A life lesson from a 7-month-old

Last night, the breast pump died. And then, the washer quit mid-cycle. We removed each piece of clothing from the very cold water, wrung it out, and set it out to dry overnight. Not my favorite activity at midnight on a Sunday, but what can you do.

I went to bed thinking I'd feel better in the morning, but I woke up this morning feeling as crummy as I did last night. Maybe an hour later, I came downstairs to see Karen on the couch and Rich in his jumper. Rich bounced up and down like crazy (a favorite activity of his) and gave me the hugest grin ever. I mean, one enormous smile. (Karen pointed out that he had the face of absolute joy.)

Somewhere, somehow, we lose the simplicity of life. Yes, Rich is oblivious to any upset in the regularity of our home life, but his greatest joys truly come from seeing his mom and dad and spending time with them. That's all. If it was his birthday today, that's all he'd want. So I guess I learned from Richie this morning that despite the challenges that inevitably come, joy in its purest form is found with those we love. (Just ignore the sentiment and think about it.)

Pointer: be six

"Can you spell Venezuela?"

A dad asked this question of his six-year-old last night, and I had the privilege of hearing her spell it. Flawlessly.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Five. No, six. I always forget."

"So what's your most favorite thing to do? What do you like to do for fun?"

"Hmm . . . I think the most fun thing for me is the feeling I get when everyone else is having fun too."

Man. I just need to be six.