Dad Entry #52

On Sunday, Meggie looked out of her car window and said, “Daddy, I wanna touch a cloud up in the sky.” Like Hugh Jackman said about his kids in a magazine article I read, “It’s frightening how much we love them.” Honesty, I was admiring the sky too when Megan made her almost poetic announcement. Of course, Michael corrected her and said, “Well, you can’t really touch them, they are like fog, so maybe you just get your hand wet is all.” Yes, Michael is sometimes quick to burst Megan’s bubble. But I told Meggie I agreed with her, I would love to touch a cloud, and in fact we could fly through them in an airplane, and she probably did when we all flew with Papa Mike to Minneapolis. But Megan is observant; it was a gorgeous sky, a nice mix of blue and the intense white of Megan’s clouds, which were fat and full and lit up by the sun.

“Daddy, does looking at cake make you want cake?” Michael asked me recently. He was looking at a miniature plastic piece of cake that was part of a “Littlest Pet Shop” toy. I think it quite mature of him to sort of step back and observe his own mind. He identified a trigger (the cake) and was curious or intrigued by the fact it caused a physiological response, it caused him to feel hunger (for cake). He observed, and therefore separated himself, from his own thought process. Is he a Yogi? Or the youngest Zen master ever? Probably neither, but I won’t be surprised if he lectures me soon on the mind / body connection, or the psychology of things like stimuli, desire, attention, appetite, advertising, and marketing. I answered, “Yes,” to his question about cake. He said, “Me too, I think that’s the deal with everyone.” Maybe sooner than later Michael and I will discuss how we are not our thoughts. And yet we should take care to control our thoughts; we need to control the focus of our consciousness. This more than anything will determine the quality of our life. But we can also momentarily detach, and observe ourselves and our thoughts - like Michael did with the cake - because we are separate, we are not our thoughts. And in this way we have a tool, a buffer that dampens emotion like anger and fear and sadness. I will tell Michael to try this when times are tough, to be a little calmer and more level-headed to deal with things, pilot his ship, make decisions. Michael will counter and say, "No, we should never detach to ‘observe ourselves’, never, not even for a second. We should always be present and passionate and spontaneous. Because that’s life!" "Sure," I'll say, "But what if the chips are down?" And he'll say, "Then I'll be even more passionate." And I'll say, "Yes, you will be." Then he'll say, “We can withdraw when we die.” To which I’ll say, “I was young once, too.” Perhaps you are rolling your eyes, but here’s the deal… Michael will engage in this crazy conversation with me. And he will only be like nine years old!

Jim, Deb, and Greg were joking over the weekend about how well-spoken and sharp Michael was as a 3 to 4 year old. Specifically, they remember Michael telling them about dinosaurs and whales at a level of clarity and scope rivaling the average narrator on Animal Planet or Discovery Channel. Now that he’s six, they assume he’s a flat-out genius. And honestly, he still talks a good game! Indeed, he’s bright, and he loves to learn (and teach), but maybe Greg is exaggerating when he says things like, “I called Michael last week, I needed to know real quick how much interest I'd pay if I amortized a 25k loan over 48 months at six percent on a quarterly payment schedule with fees at half a percent rolled in” … and so on.