Are YOU my daddy?

Let me start by saying that Sidamo is very clear on who mommy and daddy are—in person, at least. Photographs are another matter. A couple weeks ago, Sidamo started to really miss his daddy when Greg was at work, so we'd go looking around the house for photos of him. He'd hold them and point and say, "Dada? Uh?" Which basically means, "Where did daddy go?"

In his daddy-finding zeal, Sid recently started pointing to pretty much any photo of a slender white guy and screaming, "Dada!" The plumber on the magnet on the fridge, the cover model on the Men's Health at the supermarket, etc. The people usually don't look a whole lot like Greg, but they're usually young, tallish white guys with dark hair, so, you know, close enough.

Sometimes he branches out, though, and dada can be an old white-haired farmer …

an incredibly happy, middle-aged Asian guy…


or even (and I'm surprised Greg is still talking to him after this one), a not-so-popular president …


So far he's only found one substitute mommy in a photograph, and it was Brooke Siler, a super-hot Pilates teacher whose book, The Pilates Body, is on my bookshelf.


So my kid sees me through rose-colored glasses. I'll take that over G-Dub any day.