Greg Oden and Wyatt Wilson: Cut from the same cloth

If you think you are seeing double, I don't blame you. Let me help you out. Greg Oden is on the left and Wyatt is on the right.

I know what you're thinking. Does he even need to go into detail? Greg Oden and Wyatt Wilson are so obviously similar that any further time spend on the subject would be pointless. Well, some people don't immediately see all the stunning shared aspects. Please let me expound.
1. Both spend most of their time in Portland, Oregon. I know, I have to start off with an easy one. Both have been here less than a year and both seem to be enjoying it.
2. Both are often mistaken for being much older than they actually are. I remember hearing that Greg's mom would have to take his birth certificate around to his games when he was younger to prove he was the appropriate age to play in. Wyatt is often talked to and greeted like a toddler, and only when we tell people his age do they understand.
3. Both are extremely tall for their age. Greg is 7'0 tall at the tender age of 20 and Wyatt is 31" tall at 6 and 1/2 months.
4. Both are take pride in their personal style. I think Wyatt's assymetrical wide-stripe jammy number might give David Stern pause when considering guidelines for courtside dress.
5. Both have unusually large feet. Greg wears a size 18, and we are still currently looking for baby shoes that fit the little ham hocks at the ends of Wyatt's legs.
6. Both find their hairstyle as an avenue for self-expression. Greg was quick to rock the mohawk. Wyatt has had every hairstyle from the part-down-the-middle to punk to hippie-birdsnest.
7. Both want the Blazers to make the playoffs this year. Greg as the starting Center, Wyatt as the son of a lifelong fan and season-ticket holder.
8. Both are kind-hearted jokesters who smile easily. Wyatt's jokes primarily center around different versions of the "peek-a-boo" theme, but they are getting more sophisticated.
9. Both have a blog.
I will add more as they come to light.

STUFF ON MY BABY'S HEAD!!! Vol. 2

Is there a long, latin term for enjoying having random things put on your head and documented? If so, Wyatt has it.

Baby food bowl on my baby's head!

Sock Monkey on my baby's head!

"Tomato Juice" on my baby's head!

....I believe I can touch the sky...

As far as Wyatt knows, he has a very unique ability to fly. This belief brings him so much joy that I suspect the disillusionment of his abilities may one day have near "Santa-Clausian" effects so I am going to ask all of you who know him to help maintain this charade. He is getting increasingly wiley, often wondering aloud why he can't fly when Daddy isn't around, or why he can't control where he is going, or why he can't seem to get higher than seven feet off the ground. My answers are becoming increasingly convoluted. I don't know how long I can keep this up, but if he walks off the graduation podium and takes a big bound towards the heavens with his last step, only to come crashing to earth with a confused look on his face, I will feel I did my job as a father.

Why won't that toddler wave back at me?

Wyatt is now quite the outdoorsy type. We now own every single baby-carrier known to man and he seems to prefer this one right now. Here he is teetering over the abyss at Cape Lookout on the Oregon coast.

Wyatt has officially graduated to a high-chair and here he is giving us the "Put down the camera and pick up the baby food" face.

Had to post this picture of little man in his cashmere sweater from "Aunt" Elizabeth. Kid has a cashmere sweater. This sweater is officially cooler than every sweater I own rolled together, and he's not even seven months old yet.

That's all for now but stay tuned for a new installment of "Stuff on my baby's head!".

Wyatt's Evening Routine

First, we dine.

Wyatt has taken the big step known as "solid foods". I find this (like many things about parenthood) as a bit of a misnomer. I won't recite Webster's to you, but my personal definition of a "solid" is something along the lines of "something you can't drink". These foods have almost nothing solid about them. They spill , they slide, they get everywhere, and I'm pretty sure you could drink them through a straw. Would you consider a milkshake a solid? No you wouldn't and thus, liquified peas shouldn't count either, but I digress. Wyatt seems to enjoy his new dinnertime, but mysteriously, the first spoonful always elicits a puckered face like I just squirted lemon juice in his mouth.

Every product made for children boasts a "removable, machine washable cover", which I understand the need for, but we have been lucky that we have never had to remove-and-machine-wash anything because the bugger's been pretty tidy thus far. No more. Every meal is an explosion. I know this is par for the course, but it never gets old. I will laugh every time I find sweet potato in THE HAIR ON THE BACK OF HIS HEAD! How does it get back there? Wyatt will never tell.

They grow up so fast! Next thing you know he'll be buying for the other kids.

How does a sophisticated young gentleman relax after a hearty meal and a frosty cold beverage? In style.
Wyatt: "Hey ladies, I think I dropped my watch in here, can you help me out?"

The kid's a heartbreaker.

No, he can't sit up all by himself yet, but he's finally able to balance that big melon of a head when held upright which seems a vital step to appearing a bit more human.

I'm told there comes a point in every child's life when there is no greater pleasure than sticking one's foot in one's mouth. I'm sure this is the first of many times I will be reminded of the old saw "youth is wasted on the young".

This picture only begins to demonstrate the size of Wyatt. I took this picture while standing up and holding the camera at eye level.

That is one pale white boy!

STUFF ON MY BABY'S HEAD!

There are no words that would enrich this post anymore than the beatiful simplicity of these pictures.

The March of Wyatt

After a bit of a hiatus, Wyatt would like to say hi, that or he's trying to tell us to stop taking pictures of him every 6.5 seconds of his life. I will admit that while he sleeps the pictures get pretty repetitive so I may respect his wishes.

Adventures in a baby sitting. It's a big step, this whole keeping your head up thing, and with a melon the size of Wyatt's it takes a lot of effort. We have already apologized for passing on the "cabeza grande" gene.

For some reason, this looks like one of those pictures people take of themselves by holding the camera at arms length. He's not quite there yet.

Wyatt has a question: "Do these make me look smarter? More mature?"

Shameless Adoration

There is no proper set-up for these pictures. They are just really cute pictures of Wyatt.

Updated at last!

Welcome to this week's edition of Adam's Guide to Post-Modern Parenting. Figure 1 illustrates that multitasking is at the heart of any foray into the realm of child-rearing. Note that the child takes priority, being gently placed on a pink velvet goose-down pillow, and a small 4 square-foot blanket that probably cost more than any blanket Dad owns. The Window-on-the-World (laptop) is artfully balanced on the knees, coffee in delightfully tacky "Clyde Drexler" mug in hand, and not pictured, the Blazers on the TV. This way, dutiful Father can keep up those things most important, while not disregarding Junior's need for a warm soft place to curl up.

Here is the first "Where's Wyatt" game. It's a lot like "Where's Waldo", except easier, and without the deranged psychopath in the red-and-white striped shirt running loose. This is Wyatt in the brilliant "MobyWrap". It is a wonderful product, and compared to other baby-transportation a downright bargain, however, I must salute whoever figured out how to charge parents a minimum of $40 for 3 yards of stretchy cotton jersey.

This is how the big W sleeps. Always. I think he's showing off the "guns".

People who haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting the whirling dervish in person often ask how big he is. Here is your answer, Wyatt is almost exactly 1/3 of a Kristi tall. He also has a very flamboyant taste in socks.

Happy Holidays from Kristi, Adam, and Wyatt. After doing our best to have a somewhat "downscaled" holiday, friends and family were still sooo generous to our little man. I'm fairly certain he now has more clothes than his mom or dad, which is really saying something. Thank you to everyone! Wishing you all the best in the New Year!


I'm a little concerned. The young nipper seems to be flashing what appears to be gang signs. I don't know why, but he reminds me of the guy from the Paranoid Android video in this picture. Thanks for the suit Andi! Also, note that this kid is about a month away from palming a basketball.


Most of the autocrats in the baby-care-ocracy will have you believe that two-weeks old is too young to start "teaching", but I think it's never too early to instill a healthy fear and respect of monkeys. As a parent, I think it is the least we can do.


Finally, I was officially inducted into fatherhood this morning. The uninitiated would assume this happened on the evening of December 19th when Little W was born. Nay nay, say I. This morning, during Wyatt's first professional photoshoot, the youngest Wilson had to be shot sans-diaper in my loving arms. First, he chose to baptize me the way only a newborn can. Just when I had recovered from being micturated upon, he got REAL comfortable on my hands and lap and "unleashed hell" not once, not twice, but thrice. Like true modeling professionals, neither father nor son flinched and the session proceeded after a quick change, but like my kindergarten teacher always reminded us: "The dynamic between two people will never be the same once one person poos on the other." Words to live by. For the record, I am looking forward to hitting up a respectable restaurant in the near future but I assure you of one thing, it will not be Indian food.

-AW