Dad Entry #45

Last weekend, I asked Megan if I could swoop her up and whisk her across a busy street. She said, “No, I can walk, Dad. Don’t worry, I won’t even get killed at all.” Thank you, Sweetheart, that’s so reassuring. At dinner last night, Michael told me how tests work. He explained they had one at school, and it involved writing, and they were not allowed to look at anyone else’s paper. What a concept; I wish I was unfamiliar. Instead I was thinking, sorry kid, you only have a few thousand more to go. But I love that about little people with developing brains and limited experience; they explain things, often eagerly, always sincerely, and always assuming the subject is as new to their audience as it is to them. They can’t wait to tell Grandpa that the world sent a man to the moon and he walked on it! Holy shit! Well they don’t say that, my kids don’t usually, but in adult vernacular that’s the emphasis they put on these facts and stories they relay with wide-eyed enthusiasm. Nevermind that Grandpa remembers Kennedy pledging to put a man on the moon and Grandma used to make out with Buzz Aldrin at the drive-in. Or maybe they smoked a celebratory joint together at Woodstock. (Hey, you never know, Woodstock was a month after Apollo 11 in 1969). Actually, those are fictional examples, they don’t necessarily reflect the actions or memories of any of M&M’s grandparents. Except the part about making out. And the joint. Ah, bad jokes. So I kinda know what a test is, but I hung on every word of Michael’s, I try my best to be attentive, interested, even excited, because they’re excited, and I’m excited that they’re excited (to learn). Megan told me today, “When I grow up, I’m never gonna cry.” I wish. Although tears might accompany meaningful lessons, so maybe a little crying is okay. But Megan was commenting on Michael’s accusation, “Megan, you cry all the time.” Michael has a point; Megan can turn it on faster than Dick Vermeil (for the record, I love that guy, one of the greatest coaches of all time). But Megan’s are crocodile tears. Where does that expression come from anyway? Hold on, in the spirit of learning and sharing neato info, I will google it… “The allusion is to the ancient notion that crocodiles weep while devouring their prey. Crocodiles do indeed have lachrymal glands and produce tears to lubricate the eyes as humans do. They don't cry though. Whatever emotion they experience when finding and devouring prey we can be certain it isn't remorse.” Wow. Wonderful. I will never use that expression again. But now you know.