On the Cheesehead Riviera

Oscar may have tiny little feet, but his carbon footprint could fill out the parking lot of a Hummer dealership.

He and I tagged along a few weeks ago on Jen's work trip to Chicago. After barnstorming the cavernous McCormick Center and thoroughly charming a covey of Kossacks, we made our way north to Kenosha.

It was very emotional for me having him there, strolling around the old neighborhood and visiting the sweet little lakefront park that my mother took me to every summer's day when I was his age. I dipped him in the water once, but he didn't much appreciate it. Seems Lake Michigan's a little cold for his tastes, and he clung to me, howling, but quickly settled down once I plopped him down on the sand, which he seemed to like.



Anyway, at least he's had his Upper Midwestern baptism. I can't wait to terrorize him with campfire tales of the great lamprey eel infestation of my youth when he's a little older.



He got a kick out of Phil's massive assortment of guitars and keyboards -- and my old rocking horse. Man, they really built those things to last. And he got to hang out with cousin Annie's charming girls, Ava and Zoe. We hit all the local culinary hotspots -- the Italian American Club and Carl's Pizza and, of course, Frank's Diner (below), where my mom waitressed when I was little. I bathed in greasy nostalgia, Jen got her hashbrowns fix and Oscar experimented with the relative velocity of corned beef hash, fried eggs and grilled cheeses when flung from a highchair with great force.



The following weekend we spent up in Connecticut with Jack and Ginger. He got to dip his toes in a bubbling brook, roam around the vast (by city standards) expanse of green and cuddle with the adults in a hammock. But mostly, he wanted to sweep the porch. I kept thinking of the Robert Johnson tune, "I believe I'll dust my broom."



Increasingly, he's asking for things with gestures -- snacks, bottles, cuddlies, hugs. He now sings along on "Row, Row, Row Your Boat (Well, kind of -- it's usually just 'Woah, woah, woah')." Sometimes he hums to himself. And at the very mention of "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," he does the opening hand gesture. He also says and waves "Bye" routinely now, and after some grandmotherly coaching, has started saying "Thank you" when prompted.