Growing Up Kaitlyn is, well, growing up

I've been writing this blog for a year now. Kind of hard to believe.

I started because it's kind of boring being semi-retired. I needed something to consume my time. I needed a creative outlet. I needed to get out of the funk of not having a job.

I had Michelle. I had Kaitlyn. I had friends and family who were supportive. But there was something missing. Besides money. A sense of accomplishment maybe, which (no matter what Michelle continued to say) wasn't satiated by dusting, laundry or ironing.

So I started writing. Heck, I was getting paid as much as my days as an actual journalist (zing!). There wasn't anything worth writing about except fantasy football poker legality in North Carolina Family Guy Michelle and Kaitlyn.

Run Daddy, Run

Well, I didn't die and I didn't finish last. I didn't have to walk, didn't have to crawl. And you know what? I did a helluva lot better than I ever expected.

24 minutes, 23 seconds. Now, they say I ran 24:40, but that 13 second difference is the time it took for me to get from my place in line (which was toward the back) to the actual starting line. I am going by the "chip time". Ain't technology wonderful?

64th place overall (out of 394 runners, thank you very much), 10th best in my age group (30-39). Now the bad news: Eleven kids beat me. And some of them beat me bad. And not "kids-to-you-and-me" kids. Like, nine to 14-year-olds. One kid who finished ahead of me was five. But that doesn't really count since he was likely being pushed in a stroller by his father, who finished directly behind him. But he paid his registration fee like everyone else, so it sorta kinda counts. Damnit.

Oh well, it was all for a good cause -- the Greensboro Children's Museum and their pretty cool Edible Schoolyard. Michelle, Kaitlyn and I love going to the GCM, so it wasn't a stretch to do something like this to support a great cause.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pass out now.

Kaitlyn hanging with her friend Lily pre-race

Pre-race Daddy ...

...Post-race Daddy

Tomorrow is D-Day

I forgive you. It's been so long since I've written anything that of course you didn't remember it. That's okay, I'll remind you.

A couple months back, I got the startling unexpected news that I was on a collision course with Lipitor thanks to years of unchecked fast food binges. So I had two choices: continue gorging on the delicious heavenly sinful foods I loved while taking medication for the rest of my life, or make some changes and get healthier.

One of the steps I decided to take was to enter a 5K called Running of the Green, which benefits the Greensboro Children's Museum.

Well, I'm just about 13 hours from the starting line. And considering my propensity to follow through on tasks, it's a pretty darn big accomplishment that I even registered.

So as long as I don't pull a Jim Fixx, you'll hear all about it tomorrow.

Strange(r)s in my house: Egg Hunt

I was going to talk about how Michelle and I had about 200 people in our little tiny townhome for an Easter egg hunt, but I feel more compelled to write about my experience writing this blog.

So you know how I normally post a funny little image or something that goes along with the topic I'm writing about? If you don't, well then welcome to Growing Up Kaitlyn. Anywho, I was thinking, What's funnier than having 200 people in our tiny little townhome? so I decided to try and find a clown car image. You know, thinking 25 clowns in a Hyundai or something would be a cute little photo to go with this post.

You know what I found? A whole mess of images labeled "Vagina". No kidding. You know why? Because all of the images are in reference to the Duggars and OctoMom. I mean, I was looking for an innocent image of a bunch of clowns coming out of a VW Beetle or something and all I get are photos with a big ol' "V" plastered on them.

And you wonder why society is going down the toilet. Oh well, you'll hear more about the Easter egg hunt tomorrow, I guess. I have to get this bad taste out of my mouth.

Strange(r) Days: The End Is the Beginning Is the End

Sometimes a couch isn't just a couch. You don't know because only I know. If you knew and I didn't know, then you'd be teaching me instead of me teaching you - and for a student to be teaching his teacher is presumptuous and rude. Do I make myself clear?

You might be wondering why we're here talking about a Pottery Barn sleeper couch. But this isn't just any couch. This couch has been part of this family's life since the beginning. It was a perfect gift, since we couldn't have afforded it if we went to buy it ourselves. It's made its way from New Jersey to North Carolina, High Point to Greensboro to the B.F.E. Whitsett.

It's seen plenty of visitor's rumps and bumps, had overnight guests from Florida, New Jersey, Virginia, California and I even think Maryland. Maybe it was D.C., but potato, potatoe.

I had my nights on the couch for illness, late-night sleeplessness and pregnant-belly-taking-up-my-side-of-the-bed. But not fighting; never go to bed angry, Michelle says. So no fighting nights for you, couch.

You've been good to us, couch, but we've been good to you. Even bought you a new slip cover especially made for you and your kind. Gave us a heart attack to see how much regular price actually costs (thanks, Pottery Barn), but luckily we found one on deep discount. You've worn it nicely ever since.

But today we found a chink in the armor. After a night on the couch (illness on Michelle's part), I went to fold you back up. You wouldn't fold back in. Finally I saw that the steel leg that folds back into the couch has snapped, hanging there off the frame. I was able to fold it in and get the couch back to normal, but is there ever a "normal" for a broken sleeper couch?

Thank you to friend and strange(r) alike

Based on the rate that Growing Up Kaitlyn's been chugging along in recent weeks, today will mark a mini-milestone in this blog's illustrious, yet short-lived lifespan.

Pageview number 127 today will be responsible for the 10,000th for Growing Up Kaitlyn. Now, I've thought about visiting the main page of the site myself for the next hour and a half just to hit 10,000 myself, but I figured that would be a little selfish. I'll get there -- no need to rush it.

And while family and friends will have probably accounted for 9,899 of those pageviews once the magic number hits, I'm pretty sure a good 101 people have stumbled here via Google. Heck, I know they have since the Gap logo on one of my first posts still ranks as one of the highest searches related to my post (God love Google Image search).

So thank you everyone. It's been a fun ride.

Strange(r) Things You'll Be Seeing

Here's a real stretch on the topic, but I think all of us NaBloPoMo-ers are allowed a slight slip. I mean, what could be strange(r) than a whole new look to Growing Up Kaitlyn?

That's right, it's about that time. Kaitlyn's growing up, so why shouldn't her blog grow up with her? And instead of just shoving something down your throat, I'm giving you, all two dozen (that's being generous, isn't it?) readers a say in the process.

Here are the options:

wordpress.Fun 

Color Paper

dfMarine 

As with any template, it will have a little customization to it, including a new Growing Up Kaitlyn header and an actual logo for the blog. Any suggestions and comments on colors and the like are more than welcome. And if you happen to know a web designer who wants to create me a blog skin for absolutely nothing, then thing this little experiment will help direct that process. I mean, I'm good at this stuff, but I'm no pro.

There you have it. Voting starts today. Vote early and often. Kaitlyn appreciates it!

Growing Up Is Hard To Do

For the past few weeks, Michelle and I have had a visitor in our bed each night. There was no telling when Kaitlyn would make her way into our bed, but inevitably there she'd be, snoring away in between Mommy and Daddy. Sometimes vertical, sometimes horizontal, always snoring.

Like I said, no telling what time she'd make her way in, either. Sometimes she'd start in the bed because she wouldn't go down quietly. In recent weeks, Kaitlyn would be in her crib screaming at the top of her lungs for an hour-plus while we sat in the bedroom praying for her to pass out from crying.

Nope. So either we'd bring her in the bed with us (I know, I know. Parenting 101 - you don't do that). or I would rock her to sleep. Sometimes for 10 minutes, sometimes for an hour and a half. There have been nights when Michelle would have to come and get me at 2 or 3 in the morning because I was passed out on the rocker with her.

This trend continued on our Disney vacation, as Kaitlyn was wired with chocolate, diet soda (thanks, Nana) and ice cream and would not sleep alone. That trip was the last straw. We had finally had enough of this. Actually, Michelle finally gave in and allowed me to turn the last bastion of toddler-hood into Kaitlyn's first bed.

Earlier this morning, while Michelle and Kaitlyn lay in bed watching Playhouse Disney, I took off the prison bars and replaced them with the small wooden bar that opens up a whole new world for little girls and boys around the world. I have to say, it was a little tough to do, since there's always that piece of you that doesn't want her to grow up. At the same time, I like my sleep and nothing else seems to be working.

We'll see how we do tonight. She's gotten a little taste of the bed, crawling into it and putting her stuffed animals in a corner. I just hope she decides to be a big girl tonight, because I could really use a good night's sleep.

Kaitlyn Kares wrap-up

We've been very fortunate over the last few weeks.

First, semi-retirement ended and I'm able to bring in some ducats. Second, Kaitlyn turned two and we had a great time with great friends. Finally, we just wrapped up the Kaitlyn Kares food drive and, I'm happy to report, it was a rousing success.

For those of you who don't know, Michelle and I decided to do a service project to correspond with Kaitlyn's second birthday. We figured it was something we could do every year around Kaitlyn's birthday and, when she gets older, will realize that it's good to give back.

Over a week's time, we collected food door-to-door in our neighborhood, as well as sponsored a food drive contest at the daycare. Thanks to the generous response, we were able to provide Positive Direction for Youth and Families, Inc., an outreach center and food pantry in east Greensboro, nearly 400 cans and boxes of food.

Friday was our day to drop off all those donations, and it was truly a great experience. We stocked the shelves and talked with the volunteers, led by Mary Todd Allen, the organization's executive director. We learned a lot about the group, including that they've got an adjacent barber shop and beauty salon that helps offset the costs to run the non-profit.

Kaitlyn didn't just lend her name to the project, but she was an asset when we had to stock the shelves 

If you can believe it, we nearly filled the pantry shelves with our donations. We actually had more items than their closets could hold, which gave us a warm, fuzzy feeling

Kaitlyn found time to have some fun, too

These are the wonderful women of Positive Direction for Youth & Families, Inc.

In Pictures: Birthday Party, Part II

Now I know why the Big Guy rested on a Sunday.

Yesterday was Kaitlyn's birthday party and it takes a lot of work to pull off a toddler's party. Between the cooking, the planning, the shopping, the cleaning and the hosting, it's no wonder these things drive parents crazy. I'm plum-tuckered.

But it was a very nice party thanks to all that work. Michelle's anal retentiveness organizational skills came in very handy; she's a list Nazi maker and likes to crack the whip take initiative. It's a good thing I ignore her and do my own thing take direction well and can multi-task.

Anywho, here's what you've been waiting for:

Kaitlyn's first guest arrives. Soon to follow: Kaitlyn realizing guests are nothing more than deliverers of presents

Party activity: finger painting. After-party activity: cleaning up finger painting

The kids' going-home-from-party gift was a handprint done with the help of the wonderful Kylie (left), who helped the kids during arts and crafts time at the party

After arts-and-crafts time, the kids -- both big and small -- had some outdoor fun while Daddy cleaned up inside.

Two kids enter, one kid leaves: the fathers were taking bets on which child would win each battle. I bet on Kaitlyn because, well, she's built like a linebacker

Oh yeah, time for cake and presents. And by the way Daddy: Get this stupid hat off me

Kaitlyn could care less about the card, considering there's a Yo Gabba Gabba toy in front of her. On a side note: Everyone who purchased a toy that makes noise/sound will be receiving a drum set for their child's second birthday

As you can tell by the looks on Mommy's and Daddy's faces, another Yo Gabba Gabba toy that makes noise was opened. I am actually pointing Kaitlyn toward the puzzles out of camera range, attempting to distract her. It didn't work

So there you have it, Kaitlyn's birthday party, in pictures. I don't think there's anything else. Oh wait, that's right:

The final product. I have to admit, I'm not completely pleased with the look. I completely understand why people charge the amounts they do to decorate cakes, though. I had these grandiose plans for decorating, but soon realized that I didn't have the tools for the intricate work or the know-how to accomplish some of the detailed parts.

The good news was that no one spit out the finished cake because it tasted poorly. It actually tasted pretty good. Michelle even gave it her stamp of approval, no small feat considering her cake-snobbery.

In Pictures: Birthday Party, Part I

We're preparing for Kaitlyn's birthday party this week and we're t-minus two days from the festivities. While Michelle is running around like a chicken with her head cut off organizing per usual, I am taking this opportunity to make up for my lack of initiative over the last eight-plus months of semi-retirement.

I am making her cake.

And we're not talking about some run-of-the-mill cake here, either. I had the bright notion a few weeks ago that I would pull a Duff and trick out this birthday cake. You see, we had a little snafu with last year's cake (purchased) and I wanted to make sure that this year's cake would do us proud. Plus, I'm pretty anal-retentive creative, so I figured I'd give it a shot.

This year, Michelle decided on a Crayola-themed party. You may recall the trip to New Jersey and the Crayola Factory late last year, which Kaitlyn loved. So wouldn't be friggin' sweet if we had a big-old box of Crayola crayons as the cake? Heck yeah it would.

I found some ideas online. Some people are really creative. Some people have too much time on their hands are great artists. Some people really need to take a class have big hearts. I wanted to take it a step further -- fondant.

Anybody can ice a cake with some out-of-the-can Betty Crocker. But wouldn't it be friggin' sweet to build a cake, making the homemade butter cream icing and fondant to give it that Ace of Cakes feel? Heck yeah it would.

So I found a great recipe and ran with it. It's a messy proposition, from start to finish. And not just the fondant. The whole cake building process is pretty intense. It is ... well, just take a look for yourself:

The remnants of my cake-shaving experiment, part one. And that's homemade fondant. I would have taken a picture of the fondant-making process, but then the camera would just be one big lump of marshmallow.

The cake-building process is getting into its nitty-gritty stages. More remnants. And by the way -- I made a great tasting cake, if I do say so myself

Yeah, I know you're impressed with my fondant color mixing skills

Yeah, a covered cake. Hells yeah. And that recipe makes a helluva lot of fondant, so if you're planning to use the recipe, I would highly suggest making only one batch. And by the way: If anyone's looking for some extra fondant, just give me a call. 

Yeah, this is AFTER the first clean-up session. Told you it was intense. 

So you're going to have to wait another couple days to see the finished product, since I'm still working on it. Plus, I want the returning visitor pageviews to pump up my analytics.

The Day That Changed Everything

Here we are, two years later.

I never knew what to expect when that day came. There was plenty of questions heading into January 13, 2008. Were we ready for this? What would the future hold? How could we overcome all of the doubts and internal struggle?

Who ever knew waiting could be so difficult? Who knew that rest was so unrestful? Anxiety set in sometime around 2 p.m., when the tension could be cut with a knife. By 4 p.m. it was almost time to see what the future would hold, questions be damned.

We pushed ourselves to the limit, we prayed and we hoped. We sweat, we laughed, we cried, we even said a couple bad words during the ordeal. We had some times where we didn't think the end would come, but then finally we saw the finale later that evening, and it was beautiful.

We welcomed the outcome with open arms, knowing that the game had changed and destiny had touched her hand on our shoulders. We didn't know exactly the path we would now take, but we knew it was paved in gold and we would be winners when we finally came to its conclusion.

Now, two years later, we can take pride in the fact that we persevered through it all. We can say that, even if we made mistakes over the last two years, we still are on the right path. We still have our future. We still have that day.

That day led to so many things. It led to parties and celebrations. It led to lessons learned and dreams imagined. It even led to some bumps and bruises that will help shape us for what the future holds. And boy, what does that future hold.

I can always look back on that day, that one fine day and think, This is what it was supposed to be. This is how it was supposed to happen. God smiled that day, and he was happy. Happy that a touch of His hand had given us all something so special. Something so real.

I sit here and smirk, thinking back to that day in the hospital room and watching it all unfold in front of me. And finally, at the end of the day, I sat back in my chair and exhaled. I knew this part was over, but the hard part was just beginning. Did I know how it would happen, or ever if it would happen so fast? No. Did I care? Not in the least.

I just relished in that moment. That moment: New York Giants 21, Dallas Cowboys 17.*



*Oh yeah, Happy Birthday Kaitlyn. You came into this world on the same day that Eli Manning came into his own. And if you turned out to be a boy, there was going to be some serious discussion regarding names. 

Lessons for the next time I'm semi-retired

If you couldn't tell, it's been a little dry here at Growing Up Kaitlyn. I mean, I noticed I hadn't posted since January 2, which is quite a while here in the blogosphere. But with good reason.

As some of you (that would be the family) know, my semi-retirement officially ends on January 19. I have accepted a position with a company here in Greensboro and will be back in the working world. Which is most definitely a great way to usher in 2010, but it also opens the door to a litany of other questions:

• What happens when Kaitlyn needs to come home early because she's sick?
• You mean I can't drive up to daycare some random afternoons and poke my head into the window and see my little girl sleeping?
• I have to shower each and EVERY day?

These are just a couple of things that have run through my mind in the last few days. More than those things, though, I've been listening to Michelle complain about the things that I haven't accomplished since semi-retirement began. You know, the honey-do list that continues to grow each and every day.

But those small complaints (believe me, she's happier than anyone that semi-retirement is coming to a close) have led to larger internal complaints and disappointments. I wish I actually made her Halloween costume like I wanted. I wish I had taken her to the Natural Science Center more during the summer months. I wish I played more golf and lowered my handicap. You know, real internal struggles.

You always reason with yourself in the moment on why you can't do something. Its was cheaper and easier to buy a costume off the shelf. I was doing some consultation work and looking for a job. I had no money. All those arguments sounds great at the time. But looking back, it really doesn't cut the mustard. I should have done those things and more because, well, there aren't more important things.

Nothing's more important than seeing Kaitlyn in her cupcake costume that you made for her. Nothing's more important than hearing Kaitlyn say she wants to see more animals. And nothing's more important than indexing a 5.0 and winning some ducats from the slops at the course.

All I can do is move forward now and hope that I learned my lesson. More time next time. Granted, we're all hoping there won't be a next time like this time, but next time.

How I Met Your Mother

Dear Kaitlyn:

I know that by the time you're actually able to read blogs (more like, by the time I let you use the computer on your own), this one will probably be long gone. Either that or dear old dad has made a ton of money from this little venture and you're so mad at me for writing about your life that you don't care to read what I have to say. Let's hope it's the latter. That way you can at least love me for my money.

Today, I bring you back eight and a half years. Dear old dad was prepping for a day of hanging out with friends down in Asbury Park (which, by the time you read this, might be nothing more than a retirement village on the Jersey Shore. What a waste). You see, he was heading down to the Stone Pony to see a concert that, rumor had it, was going to be crashed by Bruce.

After a couple hours at the Pony, Daddy and his group of friends left for greener (i.e., younger) pastures. They finally made their way to Martell's Tiki Bar, where the crowd was a little less grey. It was about 5 p.m. and the band that night wasn't scheduled to start until 8 or so, which gave Daddy and his friends plenty of time to, um, catch up with some friends. You don't know these friends, Kaitlyn, because they are Daddy's friends. Not yours. Remember that.

After a couple of hours with his friends (not to mention a certain former U.S. Representative who bought Daddy a couple rounds), one of Daddy's friends got a brilliant (to him) idea to get Daddy to sing with the band.

For some reason, the band leader totally agreed to let Daddy jump on stage and sing with the 12-person band (with full brass section, mind you). With about five or six doses of liquid courage in his system (again, Daddy's friend, not yours Kaitlyn), Daddy made his way to the stage when called on by the band leader.

The band leader asked Daddy if he was ready for this, which Daddy wasn't. But once the music started, Daddy did a Stella. Little did the band leader know that Daddy was going to go all Ann Curry on him.*

It worked though, as the crowd (which at this point looked double its size thanks to Daddy's liquid courage) was cheering like crazy, including this one little hottie who had made her way to the front of the stage. Soon the song was over and Daddy was heading off stage, being patted on the back and given high-fives from people. That one little hottie made her way over to Daddy and started gushing over him like Daddy was a rock star. Daddy even got her phone number.

And it's a good thing he did, Kaitlyn, considering Daddy called that little hottie a couple days later. And a couple days after that, they went on their first date. And a couple days after that, Daddy got pneumonia and couldn't go to the Aerosmith concert, which, by the way, that little hottie had tickets to, as well. But that's OK, because a couple days later, that little hottie brought some soup to your sick Daddy and told him all about the concert.

Eight and a half years later, that little hottie is still a little hottie. And that, my dear Kaitlyn, is How I Met Your Mother. Happy Anniversary, you little hottie.

Oh yeah, and Bruce did wind up showing at The Stone Pony that year. And Daddy missed him. And he's glad he did.

*Go all Ann Curry (v): to take over a production by throwing himself/herself in front of the lead talent, whether warranted or not

Meet Teddy

Teddy has always been a staple in Michelle's life. Of course there are all the childhood memories, but that would only be scratching the surface of Teddy's exploits, since everyone had that favorite stuffed animal when they were growing up.

You see, Teddy went to college with Michelle. Teddy slept with Michelle through her years at Towson University. There were stories about how Teddy was hidden from Michelle by the girls and guys, how Michelle might find Teddy the next day hanging from a light fixture or ceiling fan. Michelle was not amused.

Teddy made her way home with Michelle after college (How do we know Teddy is a she? Well, there's a hole between Teddy's legs from the seams popping, which made for some rather unsavory stories, according to Michelle's friends).

When Michelle and I moved in together, Teddy came along. And yes, Teddy still had a place in the bed. Teddy made it to our wedding, albeit in a duffel bag in the honeymoon suite. Michelle actually wanted to pin Teddy underneath her dress, but I think YaYa got the better of that argument.

Teddy is a world traveler, too. Besides going on the honeymoon to Jamaica (yes, ugh), Teddy went to London in high school and the Dominican Republic when Michelle and her friend Laura did some after college "discovery." Teddy's criss-crossed the country, usually in Michelle's pillowcase so she knew where Teddy was at all times. Teddy's been (to my knowledge) to Arizona, Seattle, California and every state on the east coast from New York to Florida.

Teddy's place in the house has always been by Michelle's side. In recent years, Teddy moved from the bed to the nightstand because Michelle was afraid that our dog would use Teddy as a chew toy. But every night, there was Teddy right next to Michelle.

I don't think Michelle ever thought of a day when Teddy wouldn't be by her side.

The other day, Michelle noticed that Kaitlyn was holding Teddy. At first, she thought this was cute, since her daughter was meeting her Teddy. But then a funny thing happened. Kaitlyn started actually bring Teddy with her places.

So far it's been confined to the house. But when you turn around, there's Teddy lying on the floor, Kaitlyn telling Teddy to "Go to sleep," covering Teddy with a dish towel. There's Kaitlyn holding Teddy while watching Dora. There's Teddy in Kaitlyn's crib at night, my daughter's arm wrapped tightly around my wife's slice of childhood.

You can see in her face that Michelle is torn by this chain of events. After all, this is her Teddy, not Kaitlyn's Teddy. I'm sure that somewhere, sometime, Michelle thought she'd hand Teddy down to her child. But to actually see it happening has brought a gush of emotions over her. I'm sure she secretly thinks, Get your own damn Teddy.

So now here Teddy sits, on the bench next to the snowman, waiting for her girl to come home. Much to my wife's dismay, she's not that girl anymore.

Cognitive Development, aka "The Stewie Griffin Conundrum, Part II"

Usually when you boast about your kid's intellectual prowess, you either:

A) are so dumb yourself that anything your kid does is going to make them Albert friggin' Einstein; or

B) are trying to hide the fact that your kid's as dumb as a doornail.

I have to say, I fit into the first category. I'm not on the Britney Spears level of stupidity, but I'm not the brightest bulb in the box. I know I fit into "A" because Kaitlyn is a genius. She says so herself. Here are the latest findings to support that hypothesis:

• She is saying her full name. The other day she just busted out her full name -- first, middle, last -- and Michelle and I just looked at each other and were like, "Did you teach her that?"
• She is reading books to us. A couple nights ago we pulled out "Hush Little Baby" and she began reciting the book as we turned pages. It was sort of surreal until I realized she knew Diamond Ring. That scared me. I guess it's hard wired into females.
• She is building a Large Hadron Collider with the bag of blocks. Now only if she can remember where she put the plutonium she stole from the Russians.
• She has better grammar than Mommy. I don't know if this truly supports the argument or if it pigeonholes Michelle into category "A" with Daddy, but she's already proving that she's going to be a talker like her parents. God help us on that one.

Bottles are, like, so last year

There are always those moments when you realize that your kid is growing up. Hence, Growing Up Kaitlyn. I know, awesome name, right?

Anywho, it's been one of those weeks around the house where those moments are coming fast and furious. I don't know which of these moments really hits home more: The fact that Kaitlyn tells us when she's got to drop the deuce, or when she's trading in sippy cups for actual cups.

And since watching Kaitlyn sit on the baby toilet doesn't make for great viewing, here's the alternative:

Thank you, visitor Number 54

We here at Growing Up Kaitlyn would like to formally thank whoever is credited for page view #54 today, which became the 1,500th page view for this little venture.

Now, being a semi-retired Internet Communications Specialist, 1,500 page views isn't much to write home about. It probably would get you about a nickel on AdSense. But to think that I've actually been doing this for a month and nearly 700 people have made their way to this blog.

Who knows? Maybe someday Growing Up Kaitlyn will turn into a money-making venture. Or maybe it will continue to be a creative outlet and a way that I get to share Kaitlyn with all of you.

Or maybe someday it will turn into a money-making venture. I am semi-retired, you know.

"Pee-pee on potty"

That's the chant I've heard the last two days we've picked Kaitlyn up from daycare.

"Pee-pee on potty!"

Our little girl -- and yes, she is no longer a toddler, our baby or any other cutesie name. She is a little girl -- is doing a great job on the can at daycare.

Now, she's never been shy about sitting her tookus on the potty. Actually, she relishes those moments when she can sit on the potty and read her book, listen to music or just be naked. She's getting more and more like daddy every day.

Michelle has always called our child a genius. When she started standing and wobbling on her feet at 10 months, Michelle was ready to enroll her in Duke. After she began reading words back to us from Hop on Pop, she elevated Kaitlyn to Princeton-status. Her first successful potty trip? Kaitlyn's a Rhodes Scholar in waiting.

I haven't taken a sip from the genius Kool-Aid. Yeah, she's smart. I think that's more a product of working with her and a child's natural curiosity. I try to diffuse the Einstein talk by pointing out other things, like why does my daughter only pee at daycare and not at home? How does she not realize that we still want to sleep at 6:30 in the morning on weekends? Why is she fascinated by a giant orange Tic Tac?

Don't get me wrong -- I'm tremendously proud of all my daughter's accomplishments. I enjoy watching her grow up and learn all of these things, even if it means my little girl is becoming, well, a little girl.

She just better not come asking for the car keys anytime soon.