1. BOY, INTERRUPTS.
I was driving along, beloved Magnetic Fields playing medium volume, my daughter humming along in the back, when she asked:
Who is this again?
Magnetic Fields. He's kind of friends with Lemony Snicket.
I said.
All My Little Words. I love this song so much.
Yeah.
she said.
Me too.
The shared moment was broken by the irked voice of our son from the next car seat over:
Will you guys STOP TALKING! I can't hear the music! Will you PLEASE START THE SONG OVER!
Thank you for saying please.
I said,
and complied, because I have a soft spot for people who deeply love music.
"You are a splendid butterfly /
It is your wings that make you beautiful"
We listened again, and then again, in silence. Except for my daughter's quiet humming, which we were okay with.
2a. YES, PART I?
Can a dragon make a snake melt?
he asked.
Someday, perhaps we'll see a mashup of Reign of Fire and Anaconda and find out.
2b. YES, PART II?
Can Jesus see us when he's invisible?
he asked.
I think so.
I said, sort of confidently.
3. BEYOND BAD AND EVIL.
We were building a fort, and he decided to expand vertically.
I'm building a dungeon,
he announced.
It's where the prisoners will go. Darth
Vader will go down there because he's bad. Darth Maul will go down there too because he's evil.
Oh.
I said.
What is the difference between bad and evil?
Well,
he thought quickly, deliberately.
Darth Vader is bad because he's good at first, but then he turns bad but then he turns good before he dies so he's just bad. Darth Maul is evil. He's really evil.
Oh.
I said.
What is the difference?
Darth Maul,
he said.
Is really really bad and he doesn't turn good, so he's evil.
Oh.
I said.
That is one of the best sermons I've ever heard. Thank you.
Oh.
he mumbled.
I'm building a dungeon.
4. BACK TO THE BASICS.
What is fourteen billion, three thousand and sixty-three times zero?
I asked him.
Umm...four?
he estimated with confidence.
Nope.
I said, watching as his ever-present advisor whispered in his ear. He looked up after she left.
I MEANT to say,
(he said).
Zero.
Yes.
I said.
I think that is correct.
5. PARTISAN.
Why are we listening to music?
he asked.
Because it's important.
I said, absent-mindedly.
Actually it's not,
he said, trying to get a reaction.
Music is not important to me.
He got the reaction.
Oh yes it is.
I said.
Music is important in this family.
Well.
he said.
I don't like Leonard Cohen. I don't like him at all.
As a matter of fact.
I said.
You do. In this family, it is mandatory that if you're three years old, you have to like Leonard Cohen.
Well,
he said.
I don't like Leonard Cohen. I hope that he eats a lot of chocolate and that it makes him sick.
That is not very kind.
I said.
Oh.
he said.
I might like him if he played a tuba.
5. GOOD NIGHT, CHILDHOOD.
I love you kid.
I said.
I'm not a kid.
he said.
I'm an adult.
You are?
Yeah.
he said matter-of-factly.
I'm important.
How do you know?
I asked.
Well,
he said.
When you lift me up, you can tell that I'm tough and important.
Oh.
I said.
What makes someone important?
He answered without hesitation.
When they can go poop in a potty. That's when someone is important.
You know what kid?
I said.
Believe me, I knew you before you were pooping in a toilet, and guess what?
What?
he said.
Even when you were pooping in a diaper,
I said.
And sometimes in between diapers...you were important.
Yeah.
he said, shrugging.
Now I go potty in the toilet, except sometimes I pee outside by a tree.
Yeah.
I said.
That's true.
Are you important?
he asked.
I hope so.
I said.
5. UPTON.
Can we please go to the jungle today?
he asked.
No,
I said.
Well,
he said.
Can we go to Canada then?
No.
I said.
Well,
he said.
It's good to go Canada, and they have a good playground there.
How do you know that?
I asked.
Because.
he said.
Uncle Jeremy told me.
5b. TRAFFIC MONOLOGUE.
Why is it taking so long to get there?!
he cried out in despair.
Why is that truck in front of us going so slow? It's taking like for an hour to get there! I wish that truck was broken! I wish I could chop it into pieces with a battle axe!
That,
I said.
Does not sound extraordinarily kind or sensible to me.
Oh.
he said.
Well I wish ice cream was on the truck, and I wish I had a big bowl of ice cream to eat.
Yep.
I said.
Me too.
5b. A SNEAK PEEK INTO TWENTY QUESTIONS WITH US.
I've got it.
he says.
Okay.
I say.
Is it an animal?
Yep.
he says.
And it lives in the sea.
Okay.
I say.
You don't NEED to give us any clues. Just answer Yes or No to the questions we're asking, okay?
Okay.
he says.
But it also doesn't have fur.
Alright.
I sigh.
Is it a member of the whale family?
Umm...
he thinks deeply, perhaps too deeply, and finally remembers. Or decides.
Yep. It is a whale.
Nice!
I say.
I got it! Just out of curiosity, is it a gray whale?
No.
he says.
Its colour is blue.
Again,
I remind him.
You can just answer Yes or No.
Okay,
he nods vigorously.
I'll go again. Okay...got it!
Okay.
I say.
Does it...have fur?
Umm...yep.
he decides.
It does have fur. And it lives in the water and is bigger than a horse.
____
When he was born almost exactly four years ago, I wanted to totally love him right away, but we had such a great little triad going before he was around and it was hard to conceive how someone else could jump into that and make it any better. Well, he did. His personality, loyalty, infectious affection, and enthusiasm for conversation, hard play, tough questions, and joyous living just carved himself out an irreplaceable place in our family to the extent that it's challenging to remember how he once, not long ago, was not actually a part of us.
Man, I dig this kid. The best people often, I think, are the ones that just help you become a better and more interesting person just by their involvement and presence in your life, and by that metric - or any - this lad has just helped light up our lives in so many ways. And made the people around him better people.
Here's to you, kid. To decades more of fantastical conversations and Princess Bride-quoting swordfights.
Showing posts with label 3 years old. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 3 years old. Show all posts
6.23.2014
I AM (NOT) THE WALRUS.
- Good morning!
I said. And asked the same question I ask every morning:
- What did you dream about?
- Nothing,
he said; mind moving to other matters more important.
I am persistent.
- You didn't dream about anything?
- No, not really.
He said, brushing me off.
I am not easily brushable.
- How about telling me ONE tiny thing you dreamed about?
I asked.
He started in first gear and effortlessly upshifted to sixth:
- I dreamed about a walrus and it was evil. No, actually it was just bad. He had a knife and he didn't really have a name. I was swordfighting him with a broadsword and his eyes were glowing. He did not have his blood out or his bones out and then I was knifefighting him, and we did not become friends. I won.
- Oh.
I said.
Nice dream.
____
(Buried in here are the names of two songs by two of the greatest bands ever. One is very obvious, one is slightly less so. What are they?)
I guess technically there's a bunch of one-word titles, like Friends. Not it though.
I said. And asked the same question I ask every morning:
- What did you dream about?
- Nothing,
he said; mind moving to other matters more important.
I am persistent.
- You didn't dream about anything?
- No, not really.
He said, brushing me off.
I am not easily brushable.
- How about telling me ONE tiny thing you dreamed about?
I asked.
He started in first gear and effortlessly upshifted to sixth:
- I dreamed about a walrus and it was evil. No, actually it was just bad. He had a knife and he didn't really have a name. I was swordfighting him with a broadsword and his eyes were glowing. He did not have his blood out or his bones out and then I was knifefighting him, and we did not become friends. I won.
- Oh.
I said.
Nice dream.
____
(Buried in here are the names of two songs by two of the greatest bands ever. One is very obvious, one is slightly less so. What are they?)
I guess technically there's a bunch of one-word titles, like Friends. Not it though.
6.21.2014
FAROUT FARADAY.
- Daddy?
he said with casual earnest.
- I'm going to make some poison today. Can you please get me some baking powder? And some...gunpowder?
- Well.
I said.
- I think we might be out of baking powder.
BUCKET LIST #71.
Kiss my wife at five different beaches in one day.
Check.
he said with casual earnest.
- I'm going to make some poison today. Can you please get me some baking powder? And some...gunpowder?
- Well.
I said.
- I think we might be out of baking powder.
 |
| Manhattan Beach / Rockaway, Oregon |
BUCKET LIST #71.
Kiss my wife at five different beaches in one day.
Check.
6.20.2014
6.18.2014
VERBAL SELFIE (TRIBUTE TO US).
- Daddy?
he asked.
- Are you an old man, or are you just weird?
- Well.
I said.
- One of the two is true, and I'm not an old man yet.
- Oh.
He said.
- I guess you're just really, really weird.
- Thank you!
I said.
- You too!
- No!
he said.
- I said that you're really, really weird!
- I know.
I said.
- Thank you so, so much.
One of the great life discoveries I have made is that one of the most powerful responses you can make in many situations is to aggressively accept intended insults as compliments. But you cannot do it with sarcasm. That is an entirely different beast. You must commit. You must be sincere. And you must be enthusiastic, yet deadpan. Consider yourself advised. Seriously. Take it from a true weirdo. Or, as we Mark Twain fans like to say: from a friendly and cantankerous iconoclast.
THE HUNGRY GAMES.
REACH FOR THE STARS (LETTERS OF INTENT FOR LIFE).
- Guess what I want to be when I grow up?
Our daughter asked.
- I am very good at guessing.
I said.
- I guess...astronaut.
- Whoa!
She said.
- Yes! How did you know?!
- I'm good at guessing.
I said, not modestly.
- If I was an astronaut,
she said.
- I'd be able to do cartwheels in space. That's the main reason.
Her brother jumped into the conversation:
- When I grow up, I want to be a mailman!
- Cool.
I said.
- What inspired that choice?
He thought carefully, and changed careers mid-thought.
- Actually,
he said.
- I want to be a witch when I grow up.
- Oh.
I said.
- Have you applied for financial aid yet?
- No.
he said.
- Well,
I said.
You're three years old, and if it's important to you to pursue witching as a career, you need to start figuring out how you'll pay for it.
- Oh.
He said.
- I might just be a monster when I grow up.
- Sweet.
I said.
- That's a less expensive course of study.
he asked.
- Are you an old man, or are you just weird?
- Well.
I said.
- One of the two is true, and I'm not an old man yet.
- Oh.
He said.
- I guess you're just really, really weird.
- Thank you!
I said.
- You too!
- No!
he said.
- I said that you're really, really weird!
- I know.
I said.
- Thank you so, so much.
One of the great life discoveries I have made is that one of the most powerful responses you can make in many situations is to aggressively accept intended insults as compliments. But you cannot do it with sarcasm. That is an entirely different beast. You must commit. You must be sincere. And you must be enthusiastic, yet deadpan. Consider yourself advised. Seriously. Take it from a true weirdo. Or, as we Mark Twain fans like to say: from a friendly and cantankerous iconoclast.
THE HUNGRY GAMES.
REACH FOR THE STARS (LETTERS OF INTENT FOR LIFE).
- Guess what I want to be when I grow up?
Our daughter asked.
- I am very good at guessing.
I said.
- I guess...astronaut.
- Whoa!
She said.
- Yes! How did you know?!
- I'm good at guessing.
I said, not modestly.
- If I was an astronaut,
she said.
- I'd be able to do cartwheels in space. That's the main reason.
Her brother jumped into the conversation:
- When I grow up, I want to be a mailman!
- Cool.
I said.
- What inspired that choice?
He thought carefully, and changed careers mid-thought.
- Actually,
he said.
- I want to be a witch when I grow up.
- Oh.
I said.
- Have you applied for financial aid yet?
- No.
he said.
- Well,
I said.
You're three years old, and if it's important to you to pursue witching as a career, you need to start figuring out how you'll pay for it.
- Oh.
He said.
- I might just be a monster when I grow up.
- Sweet.
I said.
- That's a less expensive course of study.
6.17.2014
6.15.2014
HOW I ENDED FATHER'S DAY WITH EACH CHILD.
The Boy.
- Daddy?
he asked, laying in bed.
- Do you want to play Twenty Questions?
- No.
I said.
- Absolutely not. It's bedtime.
He accepted this without complaint, because that's what really good dads do: they raise children to not complain.
- Okay,
he said.
- I got it. You can guess now.
Instinctively, I went with my gut.
- Is it a giraffe?
I asked.
- No.
he said.
It's a graham cracker.
- Wait a second,
I said.
- That was a good one. Now it's my turn. It's an animal but not a mammal.
____
The Girl.
- It's bedtime.
I said.
- Lights out!
- Daddy?
she asked, in root beer-ish tone.
- Would you like to come read with me in my bunk bed? You can bring your own book, and I'll read mine.
- That's actually kind of a good idea.
I said,
and climbed up with Allegiant. Remembered twenty minutes later that it was bedtime, so no no nope, not gonna pull over anything on me.
- Lights out!
I growled.
When I say bedtime, it means NOW.
Almost got me.
Word.
TODAY IN A SENTENCE, pt. 1.
Well, I can see from a quick perusal of Facebook that I'm definitely not the best dad ever, as that spot seems to be occupied by a thousand people, but my family seemed to think I do a passable enough job to sing Happy Birthday* and bring me breakfast in bed and a Divergent book to enjoy peacefully, which I did so for thirty seconds until some of them joined me with their own food; meaning we will be sleeping in hash browns for the next week, which also reminds me that I am married to the coolest dame in the world: a label I have not seen thrown around this morning, and which basically means that it's wonderful to be with someone who cares more about great experiences than, oh, food getting smashed into our hundred-count Chinese sheets. Mazel tov, dudes, you've made it fun, and now Mates of State is cranked doing their best Tom Waits and we're gonna play a round of Charley Harper memory game, where I will annihilate the competition, or at least try not to end up in what has become my customary last place finish.
____
SEE BELOW. ...in honor of my dad, whose bravery and courage is so mighty that there is no technology, fashion trend, or generational meme he is afraid to tackle head on. Loudly in coffee shop to his grand kids: "Come here so I can take a selfie with you." Run at life without glancing to worry about what the person next to you is wearing, thinking, or doing. Just do it, be yourself, laugh really loud, and make sure the world doesn't mistake you for being anyone else but you. This is my dad. He is rather legend. Also, the gentleman in the corner getting a kick out of us is Jim. He is a pleasant fellow and is a fan of James Patterson and Clive Cussler. He is going to see Monument Men tonight with his wife, who is knitting next to him and also reads a lot.
TODAY IN A SENTENCE, pt. 1.
Well, I can see from a quick perusal of Facebook that I'm definitely not the best dad ever, as that spot seems to be occupied by a thousand people, but my family seemed to think I do a passable enough job to sing Happy Birthday* and bring me breakfast in bed and a Divergent book to enjoy peacefully, which I did so for thirty seconds until some of them joined me with their own food; meaning we will be sleeping in hash browns for the next week, which also reminds me that I am married to the coolest dame in the world: a label I have not seen thrown around this morning, and which basically means that it's wonderful to be with someone who cares more about great experiences than, oh, food getting smashed into our hundred-count Chinese sheets. Mazel tov, dudes, you've made it fun, and now Mates of State is cranked doing their best Tom Waits and we're gonna play a round of Charley Harper memory game, where I will annihilate the competition, or at least try not to end up in what has become my customary last place finish.
____
SEE BELOW. ...in honor of my dad, whose bravery and courage is so mighty that there is no technology, fashion trend, or generational meme he is afraid to tackle head on. Loudly in coffee shop to his grand kids: "Come here so I can take a selfie with you." Run at life without glancing to worry about what the person next to you is wearing, thinking, or doing. Just do it, be yourself, laugh really loud, and make sure the world doesn't mistake you for being anyone else but you. This is my dad. He is rather legend. Also, the gentleman in the corner getting a kick out of us is Jim. He is a pleasant fellow and is a fan of James Patterson and Clive Cussler. He is going to see Monument Men tonight with his wife, who is knitting next to him and also reads a lot.
6.04.2014
HOW TO PLAY WITH NO TOYS, NO PROPS, AND NO FUN.
- Daddy?
he asked.
- Do you want to play battle with me? Your name can be Bob and you're the bad guy.
- Okay.
I said.
- Who are you?
- I'm D'Artagnan,
he replied assertively, pulling out his ten fingers and pointing them at me like Gandalf with nine extra staffs.
- And I'm shooting laser bullets at you with my fingers!! Grrraahhh!
- Okay,
I yawned.
- I just activated my anti-laser bullet force field so they're not getting through.
Temporarily stymied, he began circling, flashing his fingers at me and making Flash Gordon zapping sounds that I conjecture are meant to emulate the sound of laser bullets exiting fingers.
- You do know,
I told him.
- That it's physiologically impossible to shoot laser bullets out of your fingers? At least with any degree of accuracy?
His attack got heavier and his voice dropped an octave:
- Graaaahhh!!
He began leaping six feet into the air and landing knees-first on my stomach; a sensation that felt similar to what I would imagine laser bullets feel like as they're tearing through your spleen.
- My name is Venom!
he shrieked, launching himself twelve feet up and gently landing on my cheekbone with his foot.
- And I'm a venomous snake!!
- Well,
I said calmly.
- Lucky for me that I have my anti-venom cape that keeps any venom from getting on me.
- Grahhh!!!
he squeaked with fury.
- I'm actually a rattlesnake, and I will get you with my rattlesnake poison!!
- Isn't that what you just tried?
I asked.
- No matter, I have my anti-rattlesnake face mask on so I won't get any poison in my eyes.
His furious assault continued; an assault that had me worried to the point that I had to wake up and open my eyes a couple times to prevent having an elbow disappear through my ear. He went through a series of scenarios involving every form of weaponry known to man, or rather, to him, and coincidentally I had packed force field and anti-gravitational defense systems in preparation for every one of these scenarios; a scientific subtlety that he found increasingly frustrating. Until...
- Okay,
he said.
- Let's pretend that I have a ninja fire weapon that is a force field and ANTI-force field weapon and it can defeat all of your anti-force fields with huge fire. Okay?
- Son.
I said, nodding with respect.
- Now you're catching on.
I continued:
- Unfortunately though...
I shook my head.
- It just so happens that I have my anti-firebomb spacesuit in my pocket, so looks like I'm still unbeatable.
He growled, low and vicious.
- I'm going to defeat you!!
...and rushed me.
- Actually, it's bedtime.
I said.
And scooped him up easily as a baby cantaloupe and plopped his flailing ninja form into bed.
- Rest up for tomorrow, kid.
- Okay,
he mumbled, and clutched his wood sword tightly to his belly.
he asked.
- Do you want to play battle with me? Your name can be Bob and you're the bad guy.
- Okay.
I said.
- Who are you?
- I'm D'Artagnan,
he replied assertively, pulling out his ten fingers and pointing them at me like Gandalf with nine extra staffs.
- And I'm shooting laser bullets at you with my fingers!! Grrraahhh!
- Okay,
I yawned.
- I just activated my anti-laser bullet force field so they're not getting through.
Temporarily stymied, he began circling, flashing his fingers at me and making Flash Gordon zapping sounds that I conjecture are meant to emulate the sound of laser bullets exiting fingers.
- You do know,
I told him.
- That it's physiologically impossible to shoot laser bullets out of your fingers? At least with any degree of accuracy?
His attack got heavier and his voice dropped an octave:
- Graaaahhh!!
He began leaping six feet into the air and landing knees-first on my stomach; a sensation that felt similar to what I would imagine laser bullets feel like as they're tearing through your spleen.
- My name is Venom!
he shrieked, launching himself twelve feet up and gently landing on my cheekbone with his foot.
- And I'm a venomous snake!!
- Well,
I said calmly.
- Lucky for me that I have my anti-venom cape that keeps any venom from getting on me.
- Grahhh!!!
he squeaked with fury.
- I'm actually a rattlesnake, and I will get you with my rattlesnake poison!!
- Isn't that what you just tried?
I asked.
- No matter, I have my anti-rattlesnake face mask on so I won't get any poison in my eyes.
His furious assault continued; an assault that had me worried to the point that I had to wake up and open my eyes a couple times to prevent having an elbow disappear through my ear. He went through a series of scenarios involving every form of weaponry known to man, or rather, to him, and coincidentally I had packed force field and anti-gravitational defense systems in preparation for every one of these scenarios; a scientific subtlety that he found increasingly frustrating. Until...
- Okay,
he said.
- Let's pretend that I have a ninja fire weapon that is a force field and ANTI-force field weapon and it can defeat all of your anti-force fields with huge fire. Okay?
- Son.
I said, nodding with respect.
- Now you're catching on.
I continued:
- Unfortunately though...
I shook my head.
- It just so happens that I have my anti-firebomb spacesuit in my pocket, so looks like I'm still unbeatable.
He growled, low and vicious.
- I'm going to defeat you!!
...and rushed me.
- Actually, it's bedtime.
I said.
And scooped him up easily as a baby cantaloupe and plopped his flailing ninja form into bed.
- Rest up for tomorrow, kid.
- Okay,
he mumbled, and clutched his wood sword tightly to his belly.
6.02.2014
HARVEY KEITEL WAS A CUTIE TOO.
-Daddy?
he asked.
-When am I going to be a baby?
His omniscient sibling broke in:
- You're actually never going to be a baby again.
He dropped his head.
- I want to be a baby again.
-Why do you want to be a baby again?
I asked.
He looked up with a wink of a smile.
- Because I want to be cute again.
His sister and I looked at each other, then at him.
- You ARE cute!
I said.
His grin spread.
- But when I was a baby I was cuter than I am now. That's why I want to be a baby again sometime.
- Buddy,
I said.
- When you're 72 years old we're probably still going to think you're cute. So, I am giving you a big hug, because you're cute.
His sister followed suit.
And then we made caramel peanut butter soy ice cream almond milk iced drinks and started painting cute pictures of dragons with laser eyes for weapons, which are, like, totally the cutest thing ever.
he asked.
-When am I going to be a baby?
His omniscient sibling broke in:
- You're actually never going to be a baby again.
He dropped his head.
- I want to be a baby again.
-Why do you want to be a baby again?
I asked.
He looked up with a wink of a smile.
- Because I want to be cute again.
His sister and I looked at each other, then at him.
- You ARE cute!
I said.
His grin spread.
- But when I was a baby I was cuter than I am now. That's why I want to be a baby again sometime.
- Buddy,
I said.
- When you're 72 years old we're probably still going to think you're cute. So, I am giving you a big hug, because you're cute.
His sister followed suit.
And then we made caramel peanut butter soy ice cream almond milk iced drinks and started painting cute pictures of dragons with laser eyes for weapons, which are, like, totally the cutest thing ever.
5.28.2014
FIVE QUERIES BY MY SON THAT ONCE AGAIN PROVE THAT THE IMPORTANT PART IS USUALLY THE QUESTION; A LESSON ADULTS OUGHT TO REMEMBER.
1. "What is bigger: a light saber, or the whole wide world?
2. What is sharper: a wolverine's claw, or a grasshopper?
3. What is longer: a board or a drill?
4. What can fly better: a grasshopper or Spider-man?
5. What is faster: Luke Skywalker or a frog?
Oh, he is his father's son.
2. What is sharper: a wolverine's claw, or a grasshopper?
3. What is longer: a board or a drill?
4. What can fly better: a grasshopper or Spider-man?
5. What is faster: Luke Skywalker or a frog?
Oh, he is his father's son.
5.25.2014
MR. JONES.
I say it's time to reboot the Young Indiana Jones franchise.
CHARGE!
Carpe diem is so last century.
CHARGE!
Carpe diem is so last century.
According to Google, "attack the day" is expressed as:
"Impetum facturus est hodie."
Especially if you have nunchaku sticks with you.
Hand-crafted on the fly by my inimitable little big brother.
Go attack, with a roar and friendly smile.
5.14.2014
5.13.2014
FIVE: GIANTS, EVIL, SUN, ENTROPY, AND NORWEGIAN BRAGGADACCIO.
I don't think there's a cockier person in the world than my wife when she's playing basketball. A sampling:
"Yep, like molasses,"
as she miraculously sinks a shot.
- What does molasses have to do with basketball?
I ask reasonably.
"Cause I'm smooth, like butta*, and I got the touch, so take THAT, Tim Duncan!"
As she throws up another shot; defying most physics laws, it drops through.
- I still don't get it,
I say.
And I don't.
*butter
____
FIVE THINGS:
1.
If you have kids, or don't have kids, and you have a loathing of dumb music, and you're looking for wonderful all-ages melodies to round out your Pink Martini and Lori Henriques collections, than you certainly might not go wrong giving They Might Be Giants "No!" a spin. Catchy, crunchy, and meant to be played loud over and over again throughout the summer.
2.
I was good-naturedly making a series of repetitive and deprecating remarks concerning the basketball prowess of my wife, which was counterbalanced by her very Ali-like satisfaction with her ability, when our son stepped into the fray and immediately chose a side:
"Daddy!!"
He shrieked with calm hysteria; splitting the difference between Ving Rhames and Fran Drescher:
"You're being AWFUL, like slavery!"
For only the 700th time in my life, I was speechless. We have spent a great deal of conversations discussing slavery and its evils, though I still struggle to understand his analogy, and consider it to be simultaneously inaccurate and melodramatic. I am, however, proud of him for at least three things in the situation:
A) that he sticks up for his mom, which he should usually do, even when it is simply friendly marital sparring and trash-talking.
B) that he abhors slavery, in both its historical and contemporary contexts.
C) that he has a flair for the theatrical and recognizes the value of a show-stopping analogy.
III.
"Daddy,"
my daughter said.
"It's such a beautiful day outside; do we HAVE to be inside?"
- Well,
I said.
Perhaps we could all have some breakfast and get dressed first, considering it's still quite early?
"Aww..."
She threw up her hands with a patented move her sibling and fellow melodramatist would be proud of:
"This is one of the worst days of my life!"
- I know.
I responded.
But it could still get better. Or, it could get worse. Or...it might even stay the same. Typically though, things fall apart and disintegrate, which is the process of Entropy, which is a very exciting topic I'm eager to discuss with you, so just in case the rest of your day is horrible, you'll be able to look forward to a delightful conversation with me this evening about...entropy! Yay!!
I am certain she was enthused, but her thespian's face disguised it well.
04.
I am only 30 pages into Ann Patchett's Bel Canto and already immersed in the story and words. Will keep you posted. Magnificent.
05. DEJA VU, AGAIN.
I looked up at the marquee and then down at the temperature gauge registering 80+, and longingly imagined, out loud, myself inside the cool theatre watching Wes Anderson's latest.
"Daddy!!"
My daughter shrieked, snapping my reverent daydream.
"Why on earth would you want to be inside on a beautiful day like this!"
I had no answer, so I hung my head and turned up They Might Be Giants.
5b.
I tend to get lost a lot, which is one of my strongest qualities, and in the midst of one of these episodes I stumbled across a lovely little park in Vancouver not far from my wife's work.
Fir Crest Park off NE 120th Ave. & SE 5th St. Nothing fancy, just a big playground with swings, a balance beam, and a grove of giant shady trees. And plenty of sticks for my son to collect while my daughter finds tall things to climb.
Enjoy it. Winter is coming.
"Yep, like molasses,"
as she miraculously sinks a shot.
- What does molasses have to do with basketball?
I ask reasonably.
"Cause I'm smooth, like butta*, and I got the touch, so take THAT, Tim Duncan!"
As she throws up another shot; defying most physics laws, it drops through.
- I still don't get it,
I say.
And I don't.
*butter
____
FIVE THINGS:
1.
If you have kids, or don't have kids, and you have a loathing of dumb music, and you're looking for wonderful all-ages melodies to round out your Pink Martini and Lori Henriques collections, than you certainly might not go wrong giving They Might Be Giants "No!" a spin. Catchy, crunchy, and meant to be played loud over and over again throughout the summer.
2.
I was good-naturedly making a series of repetitive and deprecating remarks concerning the basketball prowess of my wife, which was counterbalanced by her very Ali-like satisfaction with her ability, when our son stepped into the fray and immediately chose a side:
"Daddy!!"
He shrieked with calm hysteria; splitting the difference between Ving Rhames and Fran Drescher:
"You're being AWFUL, like slavery!"
For only the 700th time in my life, I was speechless. We have spent a great deal of conversations discussing slavery and its evils, though I still struggle to understand his analogy, and consider it to be simultaneously inaccurate and melodramatic. I am, however, proud of him for at least three things in the situation:
A) that he sticks up for his mom, which he should usually do, even when it is simply friendly marital sparring and trash-talking.
B) that he abhors slavery, in both its historical and contemporary contexts.
C) that he has a flair for the theatrical and recognizes the value of a show-stopping analogy.
III.
"Daddy,"
my daughter said.
"It's such a beautiful day outside; do we HAVE to be inside?"
- Well,
I said.
Perhaps we could all have some breakfast and get dressed first, considering it's still quite early?
"Aww..."
She threw up her hands with a patented move her sibling and fellow melodramatist would be proud of:
"This is one of the worst days of my life!"
- I know.
I responded.
But it could still get better. Or, it could get worse. Or...it might even stay the same. Typically though, things fall apart and disintegrate, which is the process of Entropy, which is a very exciting topic I'm eager to discuss with you, so just in case the rest of your day is horrible, you'll be able to look forward to a delightful conversation with me this evening about...entropy! Yay!!
I am certain she was enthused, but her thespian's face disguised it well.
04.
I am only 30 pages into Ann Patchett's Bel Canto and already immersed in the story and words. Will keep you posted. Magnificent.
05. DEJA VU, AGAIN.
I looked up at the marquee and then down at the temperature gauge registering 80+, and longingly imagined, out loud, myself inside the cool theatre watching Wes Anderson's latest.
"Daddy!!"
My daughter shrieked, snapping my reverent daydream.
"Why on earth would you want to be inside on a beautiful day like this!"
I had no answer, so I hung my head and turned up They Might Be Giants.
5b.
I tend to get lost a lot, which is one of my strongest qualities, and in the midst of one of these episodes I stumbled across a lovely little park in Vancouver not far from my wife's work.
Fir Crest Park off NE 120th Ave. & SE 5th St. Nothing fancy, just a big playground with swings, a balance beam, and a grove of giant shady trees. And plenty of sticks for my son to collect while my daughter finds tall things to climb.
Enjoy it. Winter is coming.
5.10.2014
ROALD DAHL FIGHTS THE BLAZERS VS. SPURS.
“We have so much time and so little to do. Strike that, reverse it.”
At the Moda Center, where there is literally hundreds of people (if not more) cheering and even sometimes yelling in support of the Blazers. I feel we shall prevail in the match tonight, but the path to victory will be wrought with hardship, blood, and possibly sweat.
Go Blazers.
____
GAME SPOILER AHEAD.
At the Moda Center, where there is literally hundreds of people (if not more) cheering and even sometimes yelling in support of the Blazers. I feel we shall prevail in the match tonight, but the path to victory will be wrought with hardship, blood, and possibly sweat.
Go Blazers.
____
60-40.
On the downside, the Blazers have just played one of the ugliest, most disappointing halves of basketball I have ever seen.
On the upside, a buddy just gave me some red licorice, which I have not had in 12 years, and I fell in love with it and would like to start eating it daily now. Not those Twizzlers, which my dental hygienist alleges are bad for you, but the old school, rope vine kind that certainly has to pack some level of nutritional value.
Go Blazers.
File under: people who have been there for me and my siblings our whole lives.
And are now important figures in the lives of their grand-niece and grand-nephew.
At the Moda Center, where there is literally hundreds of people (if not more) cheering and even sometimes yelling in support of the Blazers. I feel we shall prevail in the match tonight, but the path to victory will be wrought with hardship, blood, and possibly sweat.
Go Blazers.
____
GAME SPOILER AHEAD.
At the Moda Center, where there is literally hundreds of people (if not more) cheering and even sometimes yelling in support of the Blazers. I feel we shall prevail in the match tonight, but the path to victory will be wrought with hardship, blood, and possibly sweat.
Go Blazers.
____
60-40.
On the downside, the Blazers have just played one of the ugliest, most disappointing halves of basketball I have ever seen.
On the upside, a buddy just gave me some red licorice, which I have not had in 12 years, and I fell in love with it and would like to start eating it daily now. Not those Twizzlers, which my dental hygienist alleges are bad for you, but the old school, rope vine kind that certainly has to pack some level of nutritional value.
Go Blazers.
File under: people who have been there for me and my siblings our whole lives.
And are now important figures in the lives of their grand-niece and grand-nephew.
5.05.2014
IF YOU CAN GET JACK FROM JOHN YOU CAN GET THIS FROM THAT.
(Our son, in regards to his pet rocking horse):
"I named him Cymbal,
but his nickname is Bob Dylan."
"I named him Cymbal,
but his nickname is Bob Dylan."
5.02.2014
DONE IN SIXTY SECONDS.
"Daddy?!"
My son hollered from deep within the woods.
"I got sap on my hands!!"
- "Okay!"
I said, replying with the prolific and frequent lie I have unfortunately given a billion times.
"I'll be there in just a minute!"
Two minutes later, he arrived to update me on the situation.
"I'm okay now."
Pause to swipe arm across his nose.
"My hands are okay now. I wiped the sap off in the dirt, so it's all gone now."
I looked at the walking, breathing body of dust, dirt, play sweat and inedible tree molasses I sired, and marveled at how much easier he had just made my life with his self-sufficiency.
- "Thanks Pigpen,"
I said, as he disappeared into the grimm forest.
My son hollered from deep within the woods.
"I got sap on my hands!!"
- "Okay!"
I said, replying with the prolific and frequent lie I have unfortunately given a billion times.
"I'll be there in just a minute!"
Two minutes later, he arrived to update me on the situation.
"I'm okay now."
Pause to swipe arm across his nose.
"My hands are okay now. I wiped the sap off in the dirt, so it's all gone now."
I looked at the walking, breathing body of dust, dirt, play sweat and inedible tree molasses I sired, and marveled at how much easier he had just made my life with his self-sufficiency.
- "Thanks Pigpen,"
I said, as he disappeared into the grimm forest.
5.01.2014
4.29.2014
SONG OF ROLAND (T-MINUS-ZERO).
Okay buddy,
I said.
Almost bedtime. Would you rather:
A) read some of the robot books you got at the library,
or B) play memory game?
No hesitation.
- Memory game.
Are you sure?
I asked.
It's one or the other.
- I wanna play memory game,
(Emphatic)
It's the best, and I'm really good at it.
Okay pal,
I said.
Just so we're clear: it's bedtime as soon as we're done playing one quick game, okay?
- Okay,
he said firmly.
FORTY MINUTES AND TWO GAMES LATER.
Good game!
I said.
I am a bit disgruntled at the result, but it was a jolly fine match.
- Yeah,
he said.
I'm really good at memory game.
Well...guess what happens now?
I asked.
Huge smile, and he runs over to pick something up, fails terribly to hide it behind his back, then returns to stand in front of me:
- Okay, close your eyes, Daddy.
Uhh, what's going on? It's bedtime. Remember? We're not reading books now.
- But I got something for you! Close your eyes!
I close them.
- You can open them now!
I open them.
- See what I got you?! I got you some robot books at the library. I got them for you. I thought you would like them.
Thank you...it's actually -
Interrupts.
- I thought you would like them, Daddy. They're for you to read. Here, I'll show them to you.
And plops himself in my lap, well after bedtime, again, AGAIN, as I sit there pondering yet another ignominious defeat by the masterful countermove of a tactical genius. But then I saw a really cool picture in the first book about the future of robotics and forgot what I was disgruntled about, so I'm fairly certain I won in the end.
I said.
Almost bedtime. Would you rather:
A) read some of the robot books you got at the library,
or B) play memory game?
No hesitation.
- Memory game.
Are you sure?
I asked.
It's one or the other.
- I wanna play memory game,
(Emphatic)
It's the best, and I'm really good at it.
Okay pal,
I said.
Just so we're clear: it's bedtime as soon as we're done playing one quick game, okay?
- Okay,
he said firmly.
FORTY MINUTES AND TWO GAMES LATER.
Good game!
I said.
I am a bit disgruntled at the result, but it was a jolly fine match.
- Yeah,
he said.
I'm really good at memory game.
Well...guess what happens now?
I asked.
Huge smile, and he runs over to pick something up, fails terribly to hide it behind his back, then returns to stand in front of me:
- Okay, close your eyes, Daddy.
Uhh, what's going on? It's bedtime. Remember? We're not reading books now.
- But I got something for you! Close your eyes!
I close them.
- You can open them now!
I open them.
- See what I got you?! I got you some robot books at the library. I got them for you. I thought you would like them.
Thank you...it's actually -
Interrupts.
- I thought you would like them, Daddy. They're for you to read. Here, I'll show them to you.
And plops himself in my lap, well after bedtime, again, AGAIN, as I sit there pondering yet another ignominious defeat by the masterful countermove of a tactical genius. But then I saw a really cool picture in the first book about the future of robotics and forgot what I was disgruntled about, so I'm fairly certain I won in the end.
4.27.2014
4.23.2014
ICE AGE 3.5 (GALILEOAN RETROACTIVE PERMISSION).
"Daddy?"
He asked, his hands already burdened with the scientific instruments he was about to request permission to use.
"I'm doing a science experiment so I need water and a bowl and scissors and rope and glitter and an ice cube."
- Okay.
I said.
I assume that's why you're opening the freezer?
"Yep. I'm getting an ice cube."
- Okay.
I said.
And what is your hypothesis; what are you trying to learn here?
"I want,"
he said.
"To find out if the ice cube will melt."
- Oh.
I said.
And continued to keep an eye on the progress of his empirical study, which also involved many trips to the sink to add more water.
I have the feeling a breakthrough is imminent.
I love science, especially Newton's Third Law of Motion, and also young scientists who experiment incessantly.
CLYDE THE WHAT?
Going into the 4th quarter, I'd have to say that "LeMarcus" sounds like a viable name for our upcoming child, regardless of gender. Wow. On fire.
He asked, his hands already burdened with the scientific instruments he was about to request permission to use.
"I'm doing a science experiment so I need water and a bowl and scissors and rope and glitter and an ice cube."
- Okay.
I said.
I assume that's why you're opening the freezer?
"Yep. I'm getting an ice cube."
- Okay.
I said.
And what is your hypothesis; what are you trying to learn here?
"I want,"
he said.
"To find out if the ice cube will melt."
- Oh.
I said.
And continued to keep an eye on the progress of his empirical study, which also involved many trips to the sink to add more water.
I have the feeling a breakthrough is imminent.
I love science, especially Newton's Third Law of Motion, and also young scientists who experiment incessantly.
CLYDE THE WHAT?
Going into the 4th quarter, I'd have to say that "LeMarcus" sounds like a viable name for our upcoming child, regardless of gender. Wow. On fire.
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