June 25 11:41 pm Verbatim – This is Not a Joke (I Wrote it Down)

"5 little Megsies playing in the grass, one fell in the garbage and then there were
4 little Megsies dancing around, one fell in the garbage and then there were
3 little Megsies having so much fun, one fell in the garbage and then there were
2 little Megsies in the concert dancing, one fell in the garbage and then there were...was...
1 little Megsie in the house, a mommy came along and she saved the Megsie!"

Dad Entry #5

On Saturday night, I marched out the front door to escort my cousin, Sasha, to her car, to help her with her bag and say goodbye. Megan blew a gasket. It was awesome! She kind of yelped, teared up instantly, reached out to me, said, "Da-ee, Da-ee!" - how she pronounces 'Daddy' right now - then she turned to Mommy and tapped her chest, the hand signal for help. She did NOT want me to leave. It was the happiest moment of my life. Later I realized she just wanted to go outside. Once the door opened and closed without her getting through, she flipped out. Whatever. I prefer my first instinct on this one, she saw her Daddy leave with a suitcase and her little brain thought, "Oh no!"

A Girl and her Pillow...but wait, is That a Dog?

Meg loves Belle. She loves to poke Belle right in the eye and say "EYE!" She loves to lay on her tummy right in front of Belle laying down and trying to kiss Belle, who yanks her head from side to side in desperate attempts to avoid any contact with Meg's face. She knows not to get up, as we'll scold her because we think it's so cute that Meg loves Belle. Notice all the times I just said "Belle?" That's only a fourth of the number of times we hear it each minute when Belle is visiting.

A Birthday for a King

How apropo, as he thinks that he is a king...of the world, in fact. At least in all matters of this household. Here he is:

1- eating a celebratory sundae at CPK (his restaurant of choice)

2- at preschool, with mommy...preparing to hand out little treat bags to all his friends. When he started school, our lives got a LOT more expensive.

3- at the big rained out party...being sung to and being amazed at the sheer number of cupcakes! Please note ocean theme, which was not easy to acheive. Apparantly there are not so many requests for crab and sea anemone cupcake toppers.

4- in a sea of balloons, of which I have been finding and deflating all week. I think I may have gotten the last of them tonight, finally.

Dad Entry #4

Michael’s 4th birthday party at the public pool was rained out. The kids – and moms – came to our house instead to play, eat pizza and cupcakes, and open presents. The moms and kids meet weekly, so they’re used to it. It was sort of eye-opening for me, though. Chaos. Pandemonium. But fun. Super loud – crying, squealing – but fun. My favorite conversation was with Charlie, a gregarious, three-foot tall, four-year-old with a smile that – somehow – is both genuine and permanent. He said, “Hi, my name is Charlie. I’m four. My dad’s name is John, but I call him Dad.” Awesome! Refreshing! The party was a lot of fun. Michael was a gracious host, though he was on another planet at the beginning because of the Benadryl Sara gave him for allergy symptoms. The fog cleared after a couple juice boxes, though, and he had a great time with his friends.

Dad Entry #3

The family, including Gramma, came to my softball game last night. My Father’s Day gift, a new Rawlings, worked surprisingly well despite its newness. It’s pretty soft and I tightened some laces which formed a good pocket already. I made sure to tell the kids repeatedly their gift was the secret to my success. They were uninterested. Michael had a stomachache from eating his pretzel and dog too fast. Megan showed some life though, actually. She wanted badly to run onto the field despite all the grubby, angry men standing around puffing out their chests. In fact, Megan was so ‘not-intimidated’ that she blew kisses to the scariest-looking player on my team, a big, shaved-headed, ‘Mr. Clean’ look-alike with a biker goatee. While our Mr. Clean – Steve – is a great guy, that was disconcerting. We don’t approve of attraction to guys who look tougher – and are tougher – than Daddy. Bad girl, Megan. Sara coached Michael on how to best root for me, stuff like, “Let’s go, Cox, hit it hard for once!” and “Come on now, Eleven, get an average!” I was expecting a little ‘Cameron’ (of ‘Ferris Bueller’ fame) chatter but didn’t hear any. Michael did yell “Nice hit!” after a guy fouled out rather pitifully, though. Maybe the guy glared at Michael and mumbled “smart-ass” under his breath. I only heard one F-word escape the dugout and I think both kids missed it. I remember going to my dad’s softball games when I was little. I learned some new words, generally spoken loud enough for umpires and little kids to hear. I witnessed a couple yelling matches and scuffles, too. But mostly I ate candy, got stomachaches, played in the dirt, and ran around. And now I have fond memories of watching my Dad play softball. Oh how we love to perpetuate – and romanticize – the stuff of good memories!

A Bed is Anywhere You Make It

Megan loves it when I wash her bedding...she snags anything she can get her paws on out of the basket I am folding. She then parks her stash in any number of places and crashes down upon it in a big pile of snuggly, blankety Megan. I'm not sure where the paci got scrounged up from. I don't think I want to know.

Dad Entry #2

One other thing (yeah, now I won’t shut up). Megan’s had a pretty severe case of ‘the Mommy’s’ lately. I don’t mind a forearm shiver once in a while when I lean in for a kiss. And an obvious preference for her mother. But a total meltdown every time Mommy leaves the room? It’s too much. “Mama, Mama! Mommy, Mommy!” she whines, then screams, followed by sprinklers full blast. Tears? Really, Megan? Mommy went to the bathroom, she’ll be back in 30 seconds! “Mama!!!” Oh well, I had ‘the Mommy’s’ I guess… often. Maybe I still get them once in a while. I don’t scream about it though! And I can hold back the tears!

Dad Entry #1

Time for Dan: 31 to start contributing to the family blog. Before I'm Dan: 32 for crying out loud. I have done nothing other than pass on a few neuroses that are visible in the expressions and actions of my kids in these pics. Last night while I was reading to Michael he started talking about a matchbox car he got. He said, “That car ‘caused’ four dollars. Yeah, I think that's what it caused. Or maybe it caused eight quarters.” It was fun hearing him say it. They must’ve talked about money briefly in preschool. He didn’t have the word exactly right – ‘cost’ – but he doesn’t care, he talks and talks like he’s an experienced, well-spoken adult. He has a lot of confidence in certain ways. Like his mom. He argues points he is dead wrong about but since he can say it and it sounds good and his words keep flowing, he believes what he says and any declaration to the contrary – by which I mean any conflicting statement of undeniable fact – is simply not true in his mind. It can't be true. He is right. Period. I like the confidence. Sort of. It's a struggle too, of course. But his mom can be stubborn like that and, though I complain, it has an attractive quality that really tries to offset the annoyance. It fails - to offset the annoyance - but at least it's not all bad. It creates a real strength sometimes that is very useful. “I can play the saxophone without lessons,” Michael will say. To which I respond, by way of correction, “Well, actually Michael, even the best musicians learn a bit from other people, or take lessons, especially when they start, when they’re young.” “No, not me, I don’t need it,” he’ll reply. “I can play the saxophone. I can play the tuba and sousaphone too.” Don’t worry, I don’t know what a sousaphone is either, but Michael does.

The Man

While in Minnesota for a Grandma fix and Ellie's birthday, we had a little party for Michael, also. It was his first time at Chuck E. Cheese and he was very receptive to the idea of a giant playroom where you get to feed small gold coins into game machines. And Aunt Jenny hit a homerun with a saxophone he can actually play!

Little Girl, Big Shoes

Meg loves to put on our shoes. She struggles to get them on, proudly shows them off for 2.4 seconds and then cries for help getting out. Then the cycle begins again. Please ignore the pool of tomato seeds on her shirt. I never thought I'd be the mom with dirty kids.

A New Friend and a Sousaphone Sighting

So Michael finally met Ben, the son of my partner in crime (or, uh, work), Julie, at the Elmhurst Memorial Day Parade. They hit it off and were quickly "pretending it's our birthday!" The second is of Michael getting down to one of the many bands that passed by.