Dad Entry #29

I haven’t posted a journal entry in over a month. Well, I read this today online and I have to post it. This is an excerpt from an article entitled “My Father: The Outlaw” by Juan F. Thompson, the son of Hunter S. Thompson, “I understood him when I became a father. Only then could I understand how completely and totally a father loves his child, from the day he is born, and how that love just increases. A couple of months after my son was born, I called my father and told him that I finally really understood that he loved me and always had. He didn't say much, something like, "Well…uh…good. Did you see the Raiders game on Sunday?" It was okay. He didn't have to say anything more. I understood.” My sentiments, exactly. About love between father and children, I mean. My father is, and always has been, expressive and affectionate so that part doesn’t apply to me, just the fact that experiencing fatherhood puts the feeling, the love, into another place in terms of realization or recognition, like going from black-and-white to color, 2-D to 3, like thinking about sky-diving vs. doing it… whatever. In fact, not that long ago, I scribbled this onto a piece of paper, “Just imagine if God loves us like we love our children. Just imagine.” That’s a rather pleasant thought, actually (sorry, I feel a sudden need to sprinkle levity) and when held or achieved or believed, even the slightest bit, not much can disturb.

We saw Kung Fu Panda the other day. Right in the middle of the movie, Michael turned and said to me emphatically, “You were right, Daddy, this IS a cool movie!” It was a little too much stimulation for Meggie, though. Her eyes were very wide during most of the film and when I whispered a question to her once or twice like, “Are you okay, Love?” or “Po is funny, don’t you think?” she chattered on, mostly gibberish around words like ‘fast’ and ‘loud’ and ‘flying’ and ‘crash’, for several moments in response while I tried to get her to lower her voice in the theater. I love sitting by Megan at the movies. Of course, her knees don’t bend over the edge of the seat. They don’t reach the edge of the seat. Her feet barely do. We can fit a little bag or bowl of popcorn in between her short little legs though and she’s quite happy. So cute.

A Five-Year-Old Boy!

Michael had his birthday today! And his birthday party, too! Unlike last year, I went with the INDOOR pool party and guess what? It was a beautiful day.

Here's the birthday boy with his mom, Michael Silvestri and then Ben LaMonica. And Megpie playing in the pool, then Michael opening presents surrounded by the paparazzi.

Music Madness

In KC, we went to a concert that the kids flipped for. They went beserk. Dancing, running, laughing, tackling. And they slept well that night.

Trauma

Well, Zeke really went and did it this time. He bit my baby. On the eye. Luckily it was not terribly deep and only required one stitch, but it was very traumatic nonetheless. Nothing like pinning down your child so someone can skewer her eyelid with a fish hook.

She was so sweet on the way home. She told my dad and I that she "doesn't want Zeke-y to bite her again." And also she taught us that "friends don't bite, mommy."

She had another moment with Zeke before the 'situation.' She was eating breakfast and started crying. Here was our exchange:

Megan: Mommy! I want a muffin!!!
Me: But Megs, what happened to the one I just gave you?!
Megan (sobbing): It's in Zeke-y's mouf!!!