So, fellow moms, remember That Guy? That guy at the bar who had too much to drink and suddenly realized he was head-over-heels for you? That guy who got all mushy and sentimental and honest about his feelings after his sixth or seventh beer? That guy who never realized your eyes were so blue, your lips so full, your words so poetic … until now?

Well, a few weeks ago, I had a flashback to That Guy -- and it came from my 4-year-old daughter.

We were at a birthday party in Illinois, having traveled out of town for the weekend to stay with my in-laws. My Isabel had too much to eat -- cake and chips and fruit snacks and ice cream -- and too much fun to handle. Shortly after 8 o’clock, she got a little tipsy on all the activity. I hoisted her onto the kitchen counter for a juice break.

Her hair was sweaty from running around with her cousins. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying (she had just fallen and skinned her knee). Her eyelids were heavy. Her dress was wrinkled. She knew that we’d be leaving her cousins and grandparents the next day, and she started to get weepy because she’d miss them. And then she looked at me -- you know, like That Guy always looked at you.

"You know," she slurred, "you know I love you, Mommy. I love your hair. I love your face. I love you so much."

I giggled and handed her a juice box. She missed her mouth with the straw a few times, poking herself in the cheek, on the chin. She finally managed a sip, and then set the box heavily back on the counter.

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Last week we celebrated my daughter's first birthday. We had a big family party, everyone clapped as she smooshed cake from tip to toe and aawwwhhed when she hugged the baby doll my sister gave her for a present.

Now that the party is over, it's time for her to walk. Or so it seems. Just about everyone I talk to wants to know if she's walking yet.

Obviously the answer is no, or I wouldn't be so defensive about it.

My baby walks around the furniture, even from the ottoman to the couch. But she refuses to let me hold her hands and walk. She sits down or hangs there with her legs bent if I even attempt to try it.

Both my boys, now 4 and 6, started walking later than usual - around 15 months for both. But I always assumed it was because of other circumstances. My oldest had surgery on one of his feet at 6 months old and spent several months in a cast. The younger has a medical condition that impedes his growth, so his physical development all around was slow until he started medications around 12 months old.

There's nothing holding my daughter back. And yet, she's showing no signs of wanting to walk.

I understand that all children develop differently, and that a lot of kids don't start walking on their first birthday. But many do.

It made me wonder if there was something we were doing that delayed our children's walking. We encouraged them to crawl and let them explore. We don't hold them constantly. We use a walker in an effort to get them to strengthen their legs.

I'm starting to wonder if the walker is part of the issue. I've heard from some folks that walkers hinder walking. I always thought they allowed kids to get the movements of walking down pat, kind of like a test drive.

Am I wrong? Could the walker my daughter uses be delaying her walking on her own?

I’m posting this for a local dad who shall remain anonymous …

The first phone call made me laugh.

It was a teacher from my 5-year-old daughter’s pre-school. I was at work. Another little girl stuck her hands in my daughter’s pants for a few seconds, the teacher explained.

I told a co-worker and we burst out laughing over how crazy things have become today – teachers calling to report kids playing doctor.

But then things started happening that made me nervous. First, we were on a family trip when we got call from a police detective. He wanted us to know the preschool had reported the incident and we had the right to pursue it. To pursue it? To pursue what? A couple of little kids sticking hands into ears or noses or pants or wherever? Who cares?

Next, we sat down and discussed the situation with our daughter. It turns out the other girl, also about 5, told her not to tell.

We started to wonder what this all means. Then, as we were spending a few days figuring out how we felt about it, it happened again.

This time, it was in the bathroom at school. The other girl approached my daughter and rubbed her underwear on her ankle.

With this, we started to consider pulling her out of school and sending her elsewhere. But it’s not that simple. She loves it there. Her friends are there. Plus, she starts kindergarten in a few months and we’re not looking to start over with another preschool right before such a big transition.

We’re not sure if we’re overreacting or under reacting.

We’ve made the school aware of our concerns. They’ve agreed to mostly split the kids into two different classes. We’re continuing to send her to school and teaching her to say “no.” We figure she’s a girl. She’s going to have to learn how to say “no” eventually. She might as well learn now.

What would you do?

- Concerned father

This weekend is my first Mother's Day as an actual mother. Last year, I was incubating. We went out for brunch at one of our old Milwaukee haunts, something we knew wouldn't be happening quite as much once the baby arrived.

It was kind of odd, being in that restaurant as a couple, surrounded by intergenerational diners. But it was nice. We got to dream, to look forward to the days when we could take our son there, years from now, when he had table manners, to share it with him.

This weekend, luck of the draw, I'm scheduled to work. So we aren't making any real plans for Sunday. We've invited my parents to town for dinner on Saturday, and my husband will likely see his mother during the day on Sunday, and she'll get some time with her son and grandson.

I'm sure we'll do something at least a little special on Sunday night. Maybe I'll get dinner cooked for me, so I can snuggle the little guy. Maybe there will be a card, or flowers, or a special hug.

If I had the day free, I know what I'd want: Time with my little family. Just the three of us, doing something fun. It's finally nice out. I want to show the baby the world -- the flowers blooming in the back yard, the crazy dog down the street, the monkeys at the zoo.

But that's my wish list. What's yours?

"Draft a will" has been on our to-do list for six years, since our first daughter was born. But we still haven’t done it, mainly because we can’t decide on guardians. Who should raise our daughters if something happens to us?

It’s a horrible thing to think about in the first place. And then the entire topic, at least for me, is rife with emotion, guilt, judgment, politics, religion, stress, logistics ...

For some families, the choice may be easy. For many families, it’s not. All these factors come into play when you’re choosing substitute parents.

Do you choose guardians who share your parenting style? Your religion? Whose politics align with yours? Should they live nearby, so your children won’t have to move? Or should they live near other relatives, so your children will be with as much family as possible?

Should your first-choice guardians have their own children, or is it asking too much for them to add more to their brood? Surely you can’t dump children on a couple who has none — would they even know what to do?

Should potential guardians’ age come into play? Their household income? Do you ask your children for their input? (Our daughters are 6 and 4 — so they’d probably base their decision on who has a pool or the biggest playset.)

If the big stuff is all too big or equitable, do you turn to the little stuff: "They let their children go to bed without flossing, so they’re definitely out." "They buy natural peanut butter; there’s no way our kids would eat that."

And once you make a decision, you sort of need to clear it with your guardians of choice, right? What if they say no? How does a family recover from that awkwardness?

And say you choose your sister instead of your brother- and sister-in-law, or your brother instead of your mother — do you tell the rejects that you’ve chosen someone else? Or do you just wait for tragedy to make your decision known, adding insult to injury?

See what I mean? Emotion, guilt, judgment, religion, stress, logistics. This is why we don’t have a will.

What about you?

Our first outing with our first-born six years ago was to JCPenney’s to look for something baby-related. I don’t remember what we needed, but I do remember struggling to get her into the Baby Bjorn. I was a sleep-deprived, inexperienced, terrified new mom. All I could picture was me dropping our newborn onto the hard pavement of the parking lot. From that day on, our hands-free baby carrier was never hands-free when I wore it. I kept one hand beneath her little round Bjorn-covered butt, holding her through the carrier just in case she started to fall through.

The first time I was paged at work by her day care, my imagination jumped to the worst possible scenarios: They’ve lost her. She choked. A fire. She’s been abducted. Never mind that I rationally knew none of these had happened. I could visualize the worst, so a little part of me panicked.

I termed these lapses in rational judgment my new "disaster daydreams," and I still have them. Apparently, having children kicked my imagination into overdrive. It’s like labor changed a channel in my brain to "Trauma: Life in the ER." No matter how calm the rest of me, a little part of me is always, always freaking out.

Slam-bam

On Saturday, during our once-a-year weekend in Wisconsin Dells, my oldest daughter battled a water slide and the slide won. She flipped over in a tube slide and banged her head so hard, I could hear it at the bottom, despite the roar of water and hundreds of shouting children around me. Within seconds, her forehead swelled into a massive, hard, angry lump. Even the lifeguard started crying when she saw it ("Oh my god!" she kept saying, forgetting I could hear her. "Oh my god!"). The lump continued to swell as we were rushed to the waterpark’s on-site EMT.

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Just six months after Baby No. 1 came into our family, my little sister's giving us Baby No. 2.

I want to be sure to give her some things that will help out in those first few overwhelming weeks of new parenthood. Here's my list of things I'd like to give:
1. A real meal, with main dish, sides, bread and dessert.
2. A fancy schmancy pedicure, with trusted babysitting for a few hours.
3. Do all the laundry, all the dishes and whatever cleaning needs to be done.

I know when we first brought the baby home, all I could do was take care of him. Cooking and cleaning? Except for laundry, it all just piled up, and we ate lots of frozen pizza.

What are the best ways to help a new mom?