Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Bunnies and Babies
My sweet babies nearly fainted when they found that the Easter bunny had left eggs in their ROOMS (how did we not HEAR him?!) There was only a few moments of tears fighting over eggs, but everyone shared very well in the end. It's lovely that I have one choc-oholic and one straight sugar craver.
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Dad Entry #93
Protective cups are required this year in Michael's baseball league. We explained to him, and to Megan who was eavesdropping, that it will protect his private parts. Megan was jealous; it's another activity or object that Michael - just because he's older - gets to participate in or possess before her. Megan said, "Well, I need one too, because my privates were burny the other day." She clarified it was the 'burny' feeling one gets from soap (we covered this shocking discovery in a previous entry). We explained that cups protect boys from a different kind of trauma. “They’re not really designed for girls,” I said, imagining their shape. Could I be more vague if I tried? Poor Meggie; I think she still wants one. I can't decide if it's because she likes baseball – she absolutely likes sports and is good at them – or because she views the cup and special holster-like underwear as another fashion accessory, sporty, unique, wearable over tights. With matching belt, scarf, shoes, jewelry... BAM!
The other day I heard, "Daddy is always happy." It was Megan's voice in the backseat and she said it again, "Daddy is always happy, Michael." I don't know what happened or what Michael said to get that response. But I was, well, happy to hear Megan say that.
Megan and Michael both had baseball / t-ball pictures Saturday. Michael's been through it before but it was the first for Mego. She was proud. So cute. She wore her baseball hat all weekend. My heart just about explodes whenever I think about it.
The route to Beijing usually takes us over the North Pole now, which is where I am as I type this, in seat 23B of a 777. I’m daydreaming how wonderful it’d be to have Megan on my lap now, sleeping peacefully (it just became an impossible dream), her soft hair under my chin. Maybe I could hold her dirty little hand. Even I cringe at the sight of her jagged cuticles and dirty nails after she eats anything at all. Of course, if we were snuggling together in this economy seat, we’d be terribly uncomfortable, crabby as hell, smashed and sweaty. We’d be smashed in the spatial sense, not via alcohol, although that can be arranged for free on international flights. For me, not Meg, of course, although a little sedative for Meg would be required FOR SURE on this 13 hour flight. She would go postal. Actually, in my daydream I just moved her to her own seat; her bony bottom was charlie-horsing my thigh every time she shifted, which was every 10 seconds. For 13 hours. This trip, door to door, is kind of an endurance test. Michael would do okay I bet; I can imagine him right now seated by the window, looking down at the Arctic Circle, or Siberia, or wherever we are, imagining it was Hoth, pretending the giant AT-AT walkers were tromping through the snow on their way to crush the rebel base (see ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ if none of this rings a bell). I mentioned to the kids this morning that we fly over the North Pole. Megan got pretty excited. I told her I’d look for Rudolph and that red-suited fat guy. I’m sure you can see it from space, Santa’s massive compound, all lit up, the toy factory and elf dormitory and reindeer stable. There must be confectionaries, a sleigh repair and auto body, a chocolate factory, a Starbucks. Regarding my latest trip to China, Megan asked me, “Do you talk Chinese?” I said, “No.” She said, “Dad, that’s bad.” I remember the rhyme. Megan continued, “How are they gonna tell you where the chocolate bunnies are, and the Pokemon cards, if you can’t find them at the store?” Yes, Easter is here and Megan wants chocolate bunnies… from China. Ha. I don’t think they’re really big on Christianity – or Easter – in China. I’ll find some chocolate for sure, because, as I told Megan, “Don’t worry Sweetheart, Daddy has lots of Chinese friends in China who can speak Chinese.”
On the eighth day, God made Skype. After napping on day 7. Getting to see and interact with the kids via portable video is pretty remarkable. Sara moves her PC so I can ‘be with’ the kids when they’re at the table eating, at the Lego table playing, on the couch, in the bathtub, etc. We have a ‘no screens’ rule at bedtime (no Nintendo DS, no cell phone videos, no cell phone games), but maybe Sara will let me read or tell them a bedtime story from China.
The other day I heard, "Daddy is always happy." It was Megan's voice in the backseat and she said it again, "Daddy is always happy, Michael." I don't know what happened or what Michael said to get that response. But I was, well, happy to hear Megan say that.
Megan and Michael both had baseball / t-ball pictures Saturday. Michael's been through it before but it was the first for Mego. She was proud. So cute. She wore her baseball hat all weekend. My heart just about explodes whenever I think about it.
The route to Beijing usually takes us over the North Pole now, which is where I am as I type this, in seat 23B of a 777. I’m daydreaming how wonderful it’d be to have Megan on my lap now, sleeping peacefully (it just became an impossible dream), her soft hair under my chin. Maybe I could hold her dirty little hand. Even I cringe at the sight of her jagged cuticles and dirty nails after she eats anything at all. Of course, if we were snuggling together in this economy seat, we’d be terribly uncomfortable, crabby as hell, smashed and sweaty. We’d be smashed in the spatial sense, not via alcohol, although that can be arranged for free on international flights. For me, not Meg, of course, although a little sedative for Meg would be required FOR SURE on this 13 hour flight. She would go postal. Actually, in my daydream I just moved her to her own seat; her bony bottom was charlie-horsing my thigh every time she shifted, which was every 10 seconds. For 13 hours. This trip, door to door, is kind of an endurance test. Michael would do okay I bet; I can imagine him right now seated by the window, looking down at the Arctic Circle, or Siberia, or wherever we are, imagining it was Hoth, pretending the giant AT-AT walkers were tromping through the snow on their way to crush the rebel base (see ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ if none of this rings a bell). I mentioned to the kids this morning that we fly over the North Pole. Megan got pretty excited. I told her I’d look for Rudolph and that red-suited fat guy. I’m sure you can see it from space, Santa’s massive compound, all lit up, the toy factory and elf dormitory and reindeer stable. There must be confectionaries, a sleigh repair and auto body, a chocolate factory, a Starbucks. Regarding my latest trip to China, Megan asked me, “Do you talk Chinese?” I said, “No.” She said, “Dad, that’s bad.” I remember the rhyme. Megan continued, “How are they gonna tell you where the chocolate bunnies are, and the Pokemon cards, if you can’t find them at the store?” Yes, Easter is here and Megan wants chocolate bunnies… from China. Ha. I don’t think they’re really big on Christianity – or Easter – in China. I’ll find some chocolate for sure, because, as I told Megan, “Don’t worry Sweetheart, Daddy has lots of Chinese friends in China who can speak Chinese.”
On the eighth day, God made Skype. After napping on day 7. Getting to see and interact with the kids via portable video is pretty remarkable. Sara moves her PC so I can ‘be with’ the kids when they’re at the table eating, at the Lego table playing, on the couch, in the bathtub, etc. We have a ‘no screens’ rule at bedtime (no Nintendo DS, no cell phone videos, no cell phone games), but maybe Sara will let me read or tell them a bedtime story from China.
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