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.

Dad Entry #33

Megan and I will both – officially – be one year older this month. Megan will be 3; I will be 33. Man, I feel like Sara and I were kids when we had kids and yet I’m 30 years older than Megan. I read recently that men continue to perceive themselves as younger than they are. I guess so. The secret’s out; the psyche of men revealed. Oh well. Although, I do feel my age occasionally. Examples: after a long night out with friends, after playing basketball with guys 10 years younger, while noticing my thinning hair in the bathroom mirror.

Speaking of hair, Megan’s is really long. It’s so soft and beautiful. I love it. I love her. I think I’ll weave a hair-shirt out of it. Just kidding. We need to cut it again. It’s constantly in her face and it’s very good at collecting things like the caramel she dips her apples in, the glue she makes cotton-ball art for me with, oatmeal, toothpaste, stickers, yogurt, etc.

Megan, Michael, and I went to Minneapolis for Labor Day. We had a blast with Gramma and Papa Mike and the Laurienzo's while Mommy visited a friend in Georgia. We started with a day at the lake for swimming and shell collecting. Snail shells are not pleasant smelling. Then we hit the state fair which had everything from carnival rides to zoo- and museum-quality animal exhibits. They had cotton candy there too, and Michael, Alissa, and Elle took advantage. Megan, however, thought it strange and refused to eat it. Good girl. It does have an unusual texture. On Labor Day Monday we golfed with Alissa and Michael (Papa Mike and Uncle Scott rounded out our group). Alissa is cute as can be and is also a great little ball striker. Michael didn’t hit many shots but he did drive the golf cart. He sat in between Papa Mike and me. Only once did our lives flash before our eyes. We were driving on a hill and Michael had ‘the pedal to the metal’ – which we encouraged him to do most of the time and it was challenging for his short legs – anyway, ‘pedal to the metal’ isn’t advised if you are on a hill and turning. Papa Mike and I both white-knuckled our respective side rails and screamed, “STOP!!” at the top of our lungs. Michael – a little shocked by the intensity of our synchronous and sudden plea – did as instructed before the cart barrel-rolled down the hill with the 3 of us in it.

I think Megan is, well, instinctively a little sweeter than Michael right now. I hope Michael isn’t offended if he reads this one day. First of all, Michael is a boy. Second of all, these types of trends reverse themselves during different ages and phases. If he doesn’t mind being called ‘sweet’, I just might call him that one day when he’s in a ‘nicer than Megan’ phase. But for now, Megan is more willing to share, is more of a ‘nurturer’, and is more forthcoming with words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ (though admittedly I’m more mesmerized by her soft, sweet voice than Michael’s). Megan is not, however, a doormat. She stands up for herself when overly provoked. She barked loudly and abruptly at all of us over the weekend at least once. And she’s been pretty crabby the last couple days. I guess she isn’t perfect after all. But she does give great hugs now. She really wraps her little arms around your neck and gives a good squeeze. Heaven on Earth.