Things that amuse me, Vol. 16

Here are a few of the things that have been amusing me recently:

1. It may cement my status as a Nerd* that it bothers me a little when I see an object called a "cube" (meant to turn a cubby into a drawer) that measures 10.5"x10.5"x11".

2. Funny pictures of things on the Internet.**

3. Great news on the "Evolution of a Plastic-Consuming-Organism" front... our cat seems to have really developed a taste for Legos.

4. It might take nine or so years as a parent to realize this, but children are secretly Very Small People, with wants, needs, flaws, and habits much like the rest of us. Also, they often get less small over time.

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* Or is it just everything else about me that accomplished that already?

** This one's not so much "recently" as "continuously". Sure beats whatever I'm supposed to be doing at any given moment.

A conversation with D-: Lion vs. gazelle

The other night while I was folding laundry, my 4-year-old son D- managed to achieve the rare feat of sneaking up on me undetected. His ferocious roar gave me the momentary flash of panic I normally only taste in the air around my own victims, but being the consummate professional* I am, I immediately recovered and so betrayed nothing to my tormentor.

However, after a moment's reflection during a brief unrelated Q&A (4-year-olds being nature's ideal unpaid messengers), I decided not to deny him his rightful victory, so I called to him just before he left the room:

Me: Hey, nice work back there, by the way-- I didn't hear you coming at all!

D- (smiling): I'm gonna scare you again...

Me: No, it can't work now, because you just told me you were doing it.

D-: (pauses) Let's try it again where I don't tell you about it.

Me (laughing): But you just told me about it again! (looks back down toward the laundry)

D-: (begins tip-toeing forward with a large smile)

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* Non-compensated professional, of course, as is the case with most of my careers.

You may also enjoy the other (4 YO son) D- conversations, (2YO daughter) M- conversations, and (wife) J- conversations.

Important Question: Jesus Claus?

The latest Important Question is a straightforward but timely one, though not nearly as important as the last one.

For those readers who are religious*, I respectfully ask the following:

Do you find that as your kids mature, the inevitable revelations about Santa Claus undermine or strengthen your teachings about God/Allah/Yahweh, even if you didn't take much of a part in this particular cultural/quasi-religious tradition?

This occurs to me every year, but I've never been in a situation where I could ask it with any hope of getting a thoughtful answer. I've just never imagined a way to teach a child about God and Santa/the Easter Bunny without setting up a significant crisis around age 8-10 or even earlier.

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In case the above question is too deep for you, answer this question instead: Who would win in a fight, Jesus or Santa Claus? (And I don't mean a wimpy South-Park-style fight, I mean a genuine, few-holds-barred brawl.)

Ground rules: No reindeer, no hitting below the belt, and no resurrections.

Keep in mind that while Jesus of course has some notable powers and one heck of a tag-team partner, Santa clearly has supersonic speed, incredible stamina, and the ability to change his shape and size at will.

The comment board is now open-- discuss either question, or both, at will!

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* I myself come from Catholic stock, mostly Irish immigrants, but I've only ever attended church for weddings, christenings, and the occasional funeral/communion/confirmation.

The rules of D-, Vol. 2

Here are some more rules of D-, my 4-year-old son. This time, it's a sampling of questions and statements that should not arouse any suspicion at all:

1. Can you stay in the shower for awhile longer?

2. (walking into a room, apropos of nothing) I didn't punch her...

3. Go away from me now?

4. I don't want you to ask me about that.

A window into The Process

You know what's really hard? Conceiving and writing an award-winning, world-shaking, hilarious blog post under the pressure of having to get showered and dressed and out the door with J- and both kids well before noon (check the time stamp-- I bet we're late!). What's that? You don't think that sounds so hard? Well, what if the kids decide to sleep in a bit for once? Also, don't forget to factor in my general slowness in doing most anything without a clear time structure.

And what about all the other stuff I like to do to get warmed up? Like reading and commenting at other blogs, responding to all your comments, or touching all the door knobs in the house five times, checking my skin for cancerous moles, counting every paperback book in the house, and making sure I didn't leave the gas running on the stove?*

That doesn't leave much time for writing, which is I guess one of my principle problems in life-- time management with things that don't come with actual pre-set time limits (as opposed to artificial ones that I or helpful people pretend to impose on me). The search for self-imposed structure is why I've been posting each day since February-- if I introduce wiggle room, the machine might just start flying apart. We'll see if I can manage to not post one of these days.

Meanwhile, time is winding down as we speak, I have no idea what to blog about, and before long, the voice of my conscience will come out here fully showered and fully dressed and demand to know why I'm still sitting here in my underwear sweating in the humidity (compounded by the occasionally appreciated warmth of an extremely overworked laptop) instead of being ready to jump into the shower so we can get out the door and not be 10 minutes late like always.

Have I said too much?

Maybe I'll just publish this.


* I wouldn't put it past me to actually go through all that if nothing sprung to mind to write about. It's not like normal people can just sit down and focus on something, right? Right?

Just one more thing...

As part of my continuing effort to get in better shape, I have become a shining model of Herculean restraint and admirable conscientiousness most of the time.

For example, yesterday I resisted the temptation to eat a leftover piece of cheesecake, and instead I fed it to my daughter (M-) for lunch. It was perfect, because I was too lazy to come up with something more creative or nutritious (as defined by "society" and so-called "nutrition experts"). Furthermore, I had to take a call from a market research company, so I was in no position to make much of anything at the time.

When my son (D-) asked innocently what it was that I was feeding her (it was broken up into a bunch of indistinguishable pieces) I told him honestly that it was "cheese stuff". I'm not sure this was the brightest move, because if there's one thing he likes more than desserts, or whatever is not being served at any given time, it's cheese.

Anyway, I took a break in feeding her to go get her dressed (again-- the temperature dropped precipitously), and D- went back to his lunch in the dining room. I feel compelled to break here and lay out my very brief thought process in deciding to feed M- this cheesecake:

• Cheesecake is made of cheese, and it has various other lunch-appropriate components in it.
• It was kind of old and sub-par (hence I decided it didn't make the cut for me, and I'd save myself for higher-quality indulgences), and thus it was not technically even a dessert anymore, in the traditional sense.
• Given how sweet all the jars of fruit M- eats are, and given her consistently high enjoyment in eating all things edible and non, I figured she wouldn't find this culinary experience particularly remarkable (thus setting a dangerous precedent).
• I didn't verbally identify it as cheesecake, or even as a dessert, so especially given the above facts, it definitely didn't count.
• I don't like to waste things, and I needed to get rid of this dessert, I mean lunch, as soon as possible.

What I didn't factor in was, though she may be a toddler, M- is also spiritually a woman, and that is why, during a lull in getting her clothes on, she pointed toward the kitchen and called out, "Mmm, cake! Cake!!" (pronounced "geek"). I now believe, though further research is needed, that the Cheesecake/Chocolate Recognition Gene is carried in separate halves on the X chromosome, and only in women are the two halves allowed to reach their full potential.

Threatening to confound this theory, though more likely explained by personal experience, D- then asked aimlessly from his seat why M- would be calling out "cake", much in the way that Columbo would ask a nervous doctor why exactly he had to come back to the clinic at such a late hour one fateful night.

I said, "I dunno, I guess she just wants cake, and she remembers how yummy it is, or something" (sounding very much like D- himself usually does).

He coolly responded, without looking at me, "She probably wants some more of that cheesecake, probably." The extra "probably" was delivered with a tone meant to demonstrate that I should assume he knows what's going on at all times, even when he doesn't let on as much, and thus I should never bother trying to fool him again.

I burst out laughing-- I can only hold a straight face 80% of the day. I asked him what made him think it was cheesecake, and he said, dropping character in shock at my losing control, "I don't know... I just know that-- my brain told it to me because I'm very smart, from those nuts." (The latter claim based on my explanation of some of the benefits of the walnut pieces I had sprinkled on his oatmeal that morning.)

So, to sum up-- I am a saint; women may have actually been split from man-shaped cheesecakes by Zeus, explaining their misguided seeking of human mates when they really have a deeper appreciation of cheesecake; and boys are smart because of their nuts.

The joy of caprice

As an antidote to yesterday's tirade, I will note that one plus of having a girl is that last season's pants become this season's capris, or at least they do when Daddy is in charge of her wardrobe. All you have to do is wait a couple extra months for them to cross the "I think she's grown out of those pants, sir" threshold into the "Oh my gosh, what adorable pants! I have to know where you got them!!" zone*.

Incidentally, both of these statements are likely to be met with identical shrugs from me at library time. While I appreciate a cute outfit as much as the next guy, I'd much rather buy an array of identical futuristic jumpsuits for each kid, and never have to spend another 10 minutes tracking down something to dress each one in that won't get me A) in trouble or B) on some kind of watch list down at Child Services.

Consequently, J- and our female friends and relatives are in charge of all children's clothing purchases, and I am merely the middle manager who issues them on most days.

In my defense, I'll say that if they're good enough for Catholic (and gang-combatting) schools, the inevitable future, and most low-paid workplaces, uniforms are good enough for our kids and the rest of society. Three cheers for The Unitard of Tomorrow!


* I never got into the latter zone when D- was younger. Without fail, pants would somehow change from looking fine to making me look like a mental defective once I got him to daycare. This was especially an issue with overalls, due to their devious ability of the straps to allow the pant cuffs to hang down to the feet even when the crotch was somewhere around their knees. Am I really expected to notice this fine detail when I'm in a rush to get to work?**

** I still occasionally have this problem with M-, as no one yet makes capri-style overalls. Yet.

Note to self: Insert funny title later

Well, I'm coming up on 100 posts, and I feel like I'm slipping into a little lull as I've done about once a month so far. I'm then usually saved by a day or two where I write most of 7 posts or so all at once, so don't worry.

I think after I hit 100, I'll try switching to posting only 5 days a week, since it seems like most of you take the weekend off and just catch up on Monday, anyway. I'm sure it's best in the long run for my ability to keep chugging away at crafting these teardrops of genius I call blog posts. (Humor me, please.) I haven't yet had much tangible success in getting the kids to write their own entries, but I'll keep working at it.

I mean, wouldn't you rather hear it straight from the source why M- chooses to 1) snack on dust bunnies, 2) put shoes on her head while laughing maniacally, or 3) demand tributes of Rice Chex she doesn't want to eat? Or why D- 1) is obsessed with blankets and cloths, 2) doesn't allow anyone else to pretend about what he is pretending, or 3) doesn't understand how everyone else knows when he has to go to the bathroom before he seems to?

Anyway, I think you can expect roughly the same amount and quality (whatever that may be) of content, just distributed a little differently. If you happen to have some free time on an off day and curse my very name for not allowing you to procrastinate the way we all love, please do peruse my blogroll and other links on the right for some reliable entertainment. Then you can keep the dishes and chores at bay the same way we do around here!

To help this post qualify as such, here's a miniature Conversation with D-:

D-: (responding to my suggestion with a serious, patronizing face, burying his amusement) My books could not swim in the water and bite me like a fish.

Me: (unable to contain laughter at his demeanor) You make me laugh!

D-: Yes. I do. Write that in your bwog.

Ever the obedient servant, I've done as commanded.

Developments at our house, Vol. 5

Here are some more developments at our house in the past few days:

1. I took it as a sign that my poor wife is so overwhelmed by parenting and her work as a special-ed teacher at a school an hour away (which starts at 7am) that when she received a "standby juror" notice, after some initial, natural reluctance, she ended up praying for jury duty as an escape from it all.

I helped her realize that she was looking at: paid time off work (finding out this perk helped brighten her spirits considerably) in addition to her pittance for serving; time away from me and the kids (I can be a bit much to handle, which probably doesn't surprise you); and, during the selection process, hours to chill out listening to music and reading a book.

But because she wanted it, as you might imagine, it turned out they didn't need her. Let's all type a big frowny face for J-, shall we? :-(

2. I discovered I may in fact be one of those elusive spammers we all hate so much. Rather than save myself a note as a draft e-mail the other night, I just sent it to myself so I'd see it in my inbox. The next day, this message did not appear in my inbox, but I did notice a message in my spam folder (I'm lucky enough that this is not a regular event), and sure enough, it was my note to myself.

To clarify, when I say it was a note to myself, I mean I sent it from one e-mail account right back into that same account. Is this some kind of spammers' secret? "No one will suspect ME if I get the same spam messages as everyone else! Moohoohahahaaaaa!!!"

3. M- may be the next Mia Hamm, if it's reliable to project her current rate of progress as a soccer player through every day into the future. Nothing would make J- happier, including M-'s election as the first female President of the United States.

4. Speaking of soccer, yesterday J- discovered the joys of refereeing when she was called in as an emergency replacement ref for her school's girls soccer team. She felt a profound sense of satisfaction at being repeatedly told she was "f*cking blind" for an hour's work (while deathly ill and voiceless) doing a favor for the kids and their parents.

5. I've learned the next thing they need to ban after waterboarding is the poor playing of a Cars videogame (featuring a bad Owen Wilson impersonator) at full volume, resulting in the same tinny music, sound effects, and voiceovers looping every minute and a half. I think it's D-'s way of saying he is bored and wants me to be done on the computer for the day...

And on that note, I bid you and the rest of The Internets adieu.

No thank you, I'm full

Now, given that my son is still only three years old, I like to think that I have the edge over him in the brains department, and days like this reassure me of that.

When I took out some watermelon juice (which, like most juices, Juicy Juice would have us believe nature makes primarily from apple juice...), he asked why I was taking out "that waterlemon juice". After I corrected him, he pointed to the picture of watermelon slices on the label and said "I looooove those. They are my favorite. I don't say 'I'm all fuuuullll'- I eat them all up. I don't say 'Daddy, I'm all full, I'm not hungry'- I eat them alllll up."

Of course, I've been onto his Convenient Fullness game for some time, but here he just laid it all out for the record. If only I could make him understand what he's done, he would know how much I own him now, and he could fully appreciate said ownership. Instead, my maniacal laughter falls on deaf ears.

I've got to find a more sophisticated nemesis.

Deepest, darkest secrets

My son called to me from the kitchen the other day, saying he wanted to tell me a secret "in [my] ear". This in itself is a big step forward, as most of his secrets and other private thoughts have thus far been expressed at the highest volume possible in everyone's ears who happened to be wandering through the county at the time.

He couldn't wait two minutes, so he ran out to me, tried to lean over to my ear and said "I can..." then, unsatisfied with his proximity to my ear, leaped up and held himself up impressively on the arm of my chair, to whisper almost inaudibly, "I can jump up and down... I can jump up and down."

He said this twice, like many other things he says, for no apparent reason. "Outside," he added as an important footnote, so as not to incur yet another of my cruel, vicious lectures about what we do inside and what we do outside. (Of course, everything truly fun is supposed to take place outside, a magical place we never, ever visit.)

Anyway, he somehow decided this ability really was a secret, forgetting that he debuted it long ago, and that he had displayed it as recently as that afternoon. He actually had the tone of someone saying (picture Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense), "I can make things happen with my mind."

So now we know that, some night when a burglar is holding us at gunpoint, D- can just begin jumping up and down, baffling this intruder with his stunning superhuman ability, while I debut my less-impressive secret power of skipping from side to side, and J- suddenly begins miraculously cartwheeling around all of us. I imagine one of us would just have to carry the baby out of the room, because even if her power was ready to manifest itself, she'd still demand to be carried (imagine a big toothless baby smile here).