Addendum

PTAETOS (POTATOES)
TRCEE (TURKEY) PI (PIE)
SEE IS MEE (?)
GEL EE FICH (JELLYFISH)
KRIL (KRILL)
BLOW HLS (BLOW HOLES)
GOOS (GOOSE)
DOFLIN (DOLPHIN) MEE (ME)
BLOOG WAL (BELUGA WHALE)
BEENS (BEANS)
NORWOL (NARWHAL)
SCRPEEIN (SCORPION)
LOBSTR (LOBSTER)
UNEMUNEE (ANEMONE) A TRIP TO THE ZOO STICKER
CRAB (YAY!)
ORCU (ORCA)
DINUSOR (DINOSAUR) SUOOID (SQUID)
BLOO WAL (BLUE WHALE)
SPRM WAUL (SPERM WHALE)
FLIPR (FLIPPER)
WILEE (WILLY)
MOBEE DIC (MOBY DICK)

Forgive the boy his 's's. We're working on it.

Dad Entry #39

Time to gush about Michael. My man wrote a story! How awesome is that! Here it is:



Translation: “There were lava. There were bionicles. There were mountains. There were rocks. There were volcanoes. There were (Michael doesn’t remember and we can’t decipher this word) bionicle. (And then – it appears – a partial signing of his name.)

I love him. He’s a little writer now! Not bad for a five-year-old. FYI, bionicles are robot-like toy figures. A favorite of his, obviously. Michael handed this to Sara and said, “Read my story to me, Mommy.” Sara said she panicked a little until the words, sentences, cadence began to take shape as she studied the letters. Hey, translating is fun; it makes me think of pictures I’ve seen of the Dead Sea Scrolls and other Bible manuscript fragments. Those were written in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek though, much tougher than ‘Michael’. Last week I typed up and printed out an original Star Wars story. I wrote it because we tell stories at night and sometimes the creativity just doesn’t trickle out, doesn’t flow. So I wanted a story to fall back on. He liked it. Maybe that sparked his new hobby. But we tell stories together at bedtime; it’s a collaborative thing, Michael chimes in with details and direction. So he’s always been storytelling, but now he’s story-writing!

Dad Entry #38

Meggie wants to go to the movie ‘heater’ to see Madagascar 2. Funny. Michael had a hard time yesterday with ‘Pot Belly’, one of our favorite sandwich places. He kept asking for a chocolate shake from ‘Hot Belly’, even after we corrected him. I’m sure his focus was on ‘chocolate shake’; he said those words perfectly. Megan proudly declares herself a “‘naken’ girl” just before getting clothes or jams on. California Pizza ‘Chicken’ is a favorite restaurant of hers (in case you aren't familiar, it's California Pizza Kitchen). Hey, whatever works. We understand each other. Megan refuses to recognize ‘brown’ as a color. Maybe the way the Iran refuses to recognize Israel as a sovereign nation. Brown is ‘chocolate milk’. We color with the chocolate milk crayon, “I’m going to wear my chocolate milk shoes, Dad,” and so on.

Michael's bed is so comfortable. After books, prayers, and stories, I fell asleep beside him the night I returned from Iowa. And I stayed down. That means I went to bed at 8:00. Yes. I was exhausted from hunting. It was tough tromping this year as the weather didn’t cooperate. I can’t wait to bring Michael with me some day.

It isn’t even Thanksgiving yet but the catalogs are out and little brains are agonizing over Christmas lists. They're including tons of things, of course, way too many things, but there's always more to consider, more lego sets, more toys. What to add, what to leave off? How to decide? The agony!!! Contrast this with a story I heard from a hunting buddy this year. He said his great-grandmother had kept and passed down a letter to Santa written by his grandpa. So this letter was written by a little boy about a hundred years ago. The boy – who became ‘Grandpa Don’ to our friend and has since passed away – asked for a piece of fruit and new boots. That's all. He needed new boots because his old ones were worn out and he couldn’t go out to milk the cows in the morning anymore. Wow. But I'm not criticizing my kids, or even the times. No way. I shopped the catalog too at that age; I circled everything, dog-eared every page. I didn't get it all, but I got more than an apple and a pair of boots. And so will M & M.

Faux Faux Hawk

He finally relented. Michael has been "growing his hair out like a rock star" for many months now. I finally talked him into a cut...we had hit the not short/not long lousy stage of growing out hair.

Livin' in a Box

So I got two big boxes in the mail and we turned them into houses! They started simple and are now getting pretty tricked out. We're talkin' window boxes. I will post again to show off the final creations.

Who Else is Sick of wall•E?

Please note how dilapidated the box is looking. It has become the Velveteen wall•E.

Oh, for Pete's Sake

This face. It's so cute it is ridiculous.

Identify That Substance

On this face I can confirm the presence of: marker, chocolate, snot and dirt. A trailer park? No, we live in suburban Chicago, why?

So I WAS Proud of this Costume...

until I had to look at it for 96 hours (more or less) straight. I am wondering if I will ever see my daughter, Megan, again, or if I am stuck with wall•e.

Happy Halloween!

That's Right. She looks Adorable.

Progress

I am sure you think that I mean progress as in "wall•e is coming along nicely" but in fact, what I mean is "megan finally let me put the wall•e costume over her head without completely freaking out."

Dad Entry #37

I may have mentioned this before, but I’m aware that Michael has likely started to accumulate lifelong memories. Or at least memories that will exist until he’s 33, as I am 33 and I still possess – or can recall – distinct memories of the timeframe that Michael is in (I remember my kindergarten days when we lived in Milwaukee; and I have some recollection of preschool and living in Davenport before that). So maybe I can’t speak for the ability to keep or recall these oldest of memories past my current age, like, say, when I’m 80; but from my own experience, I’m pretty certain that God has pressed the ‘record’ button inside of Michael’s head. And that means we need to start putting some awesome memories in there! I think we’re doing okay, so far. Sara is terrific about keeping the kids busy and engaged in activities like art, playing, swimming, running around with friends, going to the park, visiting memorable places like the zoo, birthday parties, etc. And I join and play with them as much as possible; we bike, play catch, hit balls, wrestle, build spaceships with legos, and fight with ‘light sabers’. Memories, though, might be tied to specific events, holidays, or traumas. Maybe Michael will remember his first visit to the Shedd Aquarium. Or the wound and stitches in his eyebrow. Or the awesome orca costume Sara made for him last Halloween. Or his Anakin Skywalker costume he’ll wear this year.

Megan pooped all over the house last night. At least it seemed that way. She did it right before I needed to leave her with the sitter (Emily) to go to my basketball game. Sara was at a Madonna concert with Gretchen. Sara has already done this cleanup drill several times (and God bless her; it isn’t fun). But this was my first. Megan made it to her portable potty seat and most of her poop was in there (a scary, huge amount, actually). I looked at Megan with concern but she was beaming a smile. No wonder, it must’ve felt great to rid herself of that. Then I noticed bits and smudges of poop on the floor. I had to clean her undies and her tights, her bottom was a mess too, and then a big portion of the floor because – of course – she stepped in some of it and tracked it around before I stopped her, told her softly “DON’T MOVE!”, undressed her, and cleaned her up. I was upstairs getting my shorts for bball on when it happened and I was summoned back to the kitchen where her little ‘toilet’ was. But Meggie did okay on her own; she got to her potty seat and I don’t think Emily knew exactly how to help. So, despite the mess, we celebrated! Good job, Meggie! Five more chocolate chips for you! That’s her reward for every ‘big girl potty’.

Megan almost exclusively uses the toilet now, or her little portable potty. She’s practically an adult! I’m sad. But no diapers is cool. And I’ve enjoyed taking Megan into public restrooms lately. Thankfully, she’s only done ‘pee-pee’ so far with me. We haven’t done a ‘number two’ – as my dad would say – in public yet. It’s about the cutest thing in the world, though, sitting Megan down and holding her so she won’t fall into the toilet after I’ve cleaned and rubbed the seat so furiously with toilet paper that I’ve removed its glossy finish. Proof that cheap TP is like sandpaper. Actually, I rub the seat until I see a wisp of smoke. Then I decide it’s clean enough for Megan so I help pull her pants down and I lift her onto it (she doesn’t need much seat space for her little bottom). Yes, Megan does her business with a smile, a bright-eyed, proud smile! I know she’s done when the tinkling stops but I wait for her to say, “I did it, Daddy.” Then I lift her off, set her down on her feet again, help her pull her pants or tights back up, untwist any uncooperative waistbands, then smooth her dress or put her back together in whatever way necessary. And I do this while making sure she refrains from touching ANYTHING! Last night we had a close call. Sort of. Megan saw the pink ‘puck’ in the restaurant urinal. I think everyone knows the cleaner / freshener ‘puck’ or urinal cake I’m referring too. Anyway, it was pink and Megan noticed it and started to lift an arm while taking a step toward it. I just about tackled her even though I was so close I could easily prevent what I was afraid of. Yeah, I sort of pounced on her like the Secret Service must do if the President is threatened and they need to instantly shield or move him. Then I calmly reiterated to her that we really don’t want to touch anything nearby – or in! – the urinal. Even if it’s pink.

Time Machine

Dad Entry #36

I am looking at a strip of Megan stickers tacked to my board at work. Sara made silver-dollar sized stickers with Megan’s face on them, along with the word ‘Thanks’. The stickers are pink – of course – and they were made to seal party favor bags given by Meg to her birthday guests. The ones I’m looking at are extras that I stole. There are six stickers in the strip. Six Megans. So I was admiring them, admiring that cute face, six of them, and I thought… yep… what if I had six Meggies instead of one? My first instinct was real excitement. That was tempered by some mild curiosity – then major concern – about the personality distribution. And six times the drama. Six times the fun, though, too. Too many hurts and hairdryers in the house, though. Too many tears, moods, and fashion crises to navigate, too many outfits for me to veto. Too many boyfriends! Would it be heaven? No. It would be hell. But the good times would be really fun! Six Megans! Of course, Megan is way too unique and super-special to think of having any extra Megans, any more than just the perfect one we have. Almost perfect.

PT

As in "potty training." That's right, the coolest chick in town had finally ditched the Huggies (most of the time) in order to join the world of people without diaper rash. She is impressing us thus far (it's only been a week, knock on wood) and seems to really enjoy her new "big girl" status. Oh, and the bribery tool of chocolate chips.

And is it just me, or does her stomach stick out further than her tush?

Coach Meg

Meggie warmed me up for my game last night. Though her tosses are a bit softer than the shots ripped at me by beasts on opposing teams, Megan is much cuter, she doesn't grunt, and her throws are just as erratic; they're a nice tune-up for my reflexes. She loves throwing, kicking dirt, and running the bases; I'm pretty sure I'll be watching her play before long.

Dad Entry #35

Megan’s pink party was super. Sara did a great job putting it together, every detail. Megan is indescribably cute, a little chatterbox in boot-cut jeans and pink shoes. Yeah, I still must try (to describe her). She’s a pretty tall, thin little thing these days, bejeweled with big eyes, long light hair, tiny painted nails, the softest skin. A messy eater though, and still in diapers, but the things she says, blurts out now, her ideas, comments… precious.

She is perfect.

Most of the time.

Megan is starting to use the ‘big potty’. I have mixed feelings about it. A potty-trained Megan is too grown-up! Our baby on the big potty already?!?!

Whenever Megan sees any teams playing baseball or football on TV she says, “Look, Daddy, the Cubs!” I have mixed feelings about that, too. I want the best for Megan. 100 years of futility is not ‘the best’. But Wrigley is the best; and Chicago is the best; and our ‘loveable losers’ are still loveable and fun. They’ve even won their division two years in a row. But nobody disappoints like the Cubs (who've also been swept in the playoffs two years in a row).

Michael is learning to read and spell with enthusiasm. But it’s tough; English is tough. Of course – unlike, say, the Spanish language – letters in English don’t always sound the same; they can be silent or grouped with other letters to produce a totally unique sound. Michael got excited the other day and said, “Daddy, I know how to spell another word! I know how to spell ‘talk’. It’s T-O-C.” I didn’t have the heart to correct him. I chose to emphasize – and not injure – his enthusiasm about spelling, reading, learning. I told him, “You are excited about learning and that’s great, you’re learning so fast! And it’s fun, isn’t it? You’ll be able to read all your Star Wars books before you know it.”

Michael is facing a difficult decision, one he takes very seriously... who he should be for Halloween. He knows it's a tough call for other people too. Yesterday he reminded me, “Daddy, there’s a great Obi-Wan costume if that’s who you decide to be.” Michael maintains interest in many things, although he changes favorites. And, yes, describing them as ‘favorites’ is a bit mild; they are ‘obsessions’. Thomas and trains to Lightning McQueen and cars to instruments to whales to dinosaurs to Pokemon to G.I. Joe to Star Wars. Mix in a few other things like art, swimming, bicycling, some tee-ball, cicadas and an incomprehensible aversion to clothes with buttons… and you have Michael’s resume. At the top – or present occupation – is Star Wars. He’s so imaginative, energetic, bright; it’s hard to rein him in, calm him, once he’s in character as “General Grievous battling Anakin Skywalker in the hangar onboard a giant Imperial Starship.” Even though we’re all about Star Wars right now, I did bribe him to play tee-ball recently. I promised him a Starburst for every ball he hit past me. It took him a while – I’m an experienced fielder with impressive range – but he earned three pieces of candy and was quite proud of himself. Good.

My Dancing Queen

So Megan has a new favorite song: Wake Up Little Susie by The Everly Brothers. She wants it on all the time, and as soon as I put it on, the snow boots and tutu appear out of almost thin air. While she dances, she usually insists on being called "Ariel." It's interesting.

Ode to Michael

The face that launched a thousand kisses.

Cookie Bakin' with Cookie

Megan and Grammie made some candy corn (shaped) cookies this weekend and I was surprised at how on-task Meg was. She helped with the process until they went into the oven and I whisked her off to the tub. And then she even helped EAT them!

Apple Festival

My mom and I took the kids to a fall festival in Long Grove over the weekend and they LOVED it. They got to go down the slide 4 times (!), get in a moonwalk, ride a train and spend almost an hour decorating tiny pumpkins, a feat in itself. We then ate an enormous plate of homemade fried-on-the-spot chips with cheese and a chocolate-dipped strawberry kabob for lunch. I don't know where my nutrition standards were that afternoon. But that night at dinner we had an apple taste test. Michael and Grammie went with cortland but I preferred jonagold.

Proof...

that even beauties ALWAYS need to know where the camera is.

Oh My Pink

The pink fest had it's closing ceremony several hours ago, and somehow my house still looks very...pink. The girls had fun and I had fun with my new camera. So I would call it a success! But thanks goodness it's over. No more pink, please.

Dad Entry #34

Darth Michael is growing strong with the Force. His light saber skills are exceptional for a young Jedi. His is a plastic collapsible light saber from Target. Mine is a skinny, yellow wiffle ball bat (a tool I’m quite skilled with though not so much as a fencer). Although I’m no Yoda or Obi-Wan, I am a willing training partner. Michael’s aggressive attacks aren’t so easy to deflect anymore, he comes at me now with appreciable quickness, swinging his saber wildly, not afraid to whack my forearms or knuckles. He even took a few swipes at my back during our earliest battles, which I often leave exposed once I am ‘defeated’ and down. But I assured him in no uncertain terms that an accidental welt on my arm is okay (even if it’s raised and purple – ouch!) but a big welt stripe on my back is unacceptable. So Michael is a pretty chivalrous fighter now, after all, a Jedi Knight must adhere to a code, like never hit your little sister and don’t wallop your father when he’s down (unless you’re Luke Skywalker fighting your old man, Darth Vader). But that’s why it’s fun, I really have to be swift and sharp, keep dodging, blocking, defending. Otherwise I get a painful reminder that to be good Dad, you gotta pay attention!

Megan wants to play too. She loves Star Wars and will pick up a plastic bat – I mean ‘light saber’ – and swing it and talk about Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker and ‘The Yoda’. For some reason Yoda is not simply ‘Yoda’. He is ‘The Yoda’. I like that. Obi-Wan and Yoda are my favorites; so I agree Yoda deserves the prefix. We don’t say king, we say ‘the king’, and we don’t say master, we say ‘the master’. How come we don’t say ‘the dad’? Anyway, Megan is a little Star Wars fan, too. She is a fan of everything, actually. Except preschool. She doesn’t like that very much. But she’s going, and adjusting a little more every week. Bless her little heart. Michael is doing great in school. He’s learning letters, learning to sound out words and read. And he’s making friends like Dante and Samantha. Dante likes Star Wars, too. And Samantha, well, I hear she is very nice.

Epic Battle

Pigs are Flying and Hell Just Froze Over

Michael and I just got back from a little girls birthday party at Build-A-Bear in the mall. Michael was none too excited about his options for animals and decided to make a bear for Megan. Yes, you read that correctly: Megan, his arch-enemy. He picked a pink bear with a pink princess shirt and pink bows. He then named it "Double Pink" and had the birth certificate issued to Megan.

This Kid Kills Me

Last night, after his prayer, Michael asked me to say one. At one point in the prayer, I mentioned that Megan had been pretty grumpy that day and could God please help her be better tomorrow. After I was done, Michael asked me, "Mommy, does God control us like robots?"

I said, "No, why?"

He said, "Well, then how is he going to make her act better?"

Good question, Michael. This is all getting pretty deep for a five-year old, but I explained free will and how it is a great gift. I said that while God can't MAKE Megan act nicer, he can give her the DESIRE to. But he's going to have to have a long talk with her. And she'll fight it, I have no doubt.

May The Force be with You

So today we met Darth Vader. It was quite the to-do. Pottery Barn Kids introduced Star Wars bedding with a "meet-the-characters" event. The event was at 10, but I had to go early to get in line, as if I were waiting for Michael Jackson tickets in 1989. Some friends, Stacy and Charlie, joined us. When the doors opened and a storm trooper emerged to welcome us to the event, a little boy in line with us screamed in absolute terror and ran like the wind into his mothers arms. The kids were a little leery of Darth ("the guy in black" according to Megan), but agreed that the storm trooper and the Jedi were cool.