Dad Entry #100

Sometimes I think I write too much here, but then I realize 50% of my intended audience can't even read yet. Maybe they'll be interested in about 20 years. Until then, the jury's out.

At Starbucks this morning I saw a little girl with her shoes on the wrong feet. I miss Megan. She's in Kansas City for two weeks.

Megan rode on the scariest roller coaster at "Worlds of Fun" yesterday. She insisted on going. She's only 5; Sara said it was a real ride, like the kind people scream and puke on. She said Megan was terrified. And then exhilarated. And then proud. That is kind of a cool Pavlovian progression of emotions. Or a risk / reward lesson. A thrill, a rush. But do we want her conditioned this way, to 'be brave and try it', to think 'if I don't go, I'll never know'? Yes. Of course not. Maybe. Here we go again. I want her to be confident, adventurous (but cautious), I want her to think, "I can do this..." unless she should think, "This could be trouble..." Yeah, it's why I pray.

I want badly to pitch more BP to Michael. He's playing ball with Papa John in Kansas, and they went to a Royals game. Michael loved it. It's called indoctrination. Next up: watching the MLB Home Run Derby and All-Star Game, followed by a Twins game at Target Field with Papa Mike, followed by the Brewers game at Miller Park, then the White Sox at The Cell, punctuated with the best experience in baseball... watching the Cubs lose at Wrigley! This is an especially ugly year for the Northsiders, our lovable losers; only one other team - out of 30! - has lost more games at the break. Even the Royals have lost one fewer, and beat the Cubs head-to-head. The Twins are always better; they have a great organization up there. We don't care as much about the Brewers or Sox.

I had something special planned for entry #100, based on the "Family Project" survey I did last summer. But I can't do it until the kids return from KC. So maybe #101 will be 'special', or #102.

Megan's tee-ball and Michael's baseball seasons are over. Meg's was mostly a cute-fest. But Michael's got pretty serious during the playoffs. I wasn't ready for that. I haven't wanted a baseball team to win so badly since game 7 of the 2003 NLCS. Greg and I were at the game, ready to celebrate all night in Wrigleyville. Until the Cubs lost.

I played a little trick on Megan. She likes to unlock the condo door now, and she's good at it; her hands are strong and dextrous for as small as they are. But this time the door wasn't locked; I remembered I left it unlocked when I ran out to pick them up. Since I'm ornery, I told Megan as we approached the door, "Wait, I wanna try and unlock it with my mind." Megan stepped aside. I closed my eyes and wiggled my fingers over the lock. Then I turned the knob and it opened. My audience was impressed! (At least the 50% I referenced above.) Megan said, "How did you do that?!" Since a magician never tells, I looked at Michael who was already saying, "It wasn't locked, Megan."

Megan must've been thinking about the lock trick later when she blurted, "Yeah, no person on Earth is magic, right Dad, except for the Tooth Fairy?" Exactly right, Baby.

Is it just me, or do school gyms and cafeterias have the same bouquet of aromas they did when I was a kid? There's a mustiness to them, plus hints of disinfectant, sour milk, frozen pizza, sweaty mats, stinky socks... what else?

Megan is still pretty little. I was folding her laundry and smiling at her skinny jeans, and the fact her shorts are like smaller than an envelope. And then I snapped out of my reverie and thought, wait a minute, short shorts aren't allowed on my daughter. What the hell's goin' on around HERE?!?! Just kidding. Sort of.