Dad Entry #180

Grandma, Papa, and Anna (their Golden Retriever) are staying with us for a few days while Mom is in the Philippines. The kids adore Anna, and there’s a lively reciprocity, I’d say, based on all the licking and tail-wagging. Michael asked me, “What do you think Anna would say if she could talk?” I answered, “Can I have some bacon, please?” Michael laughed but then frowned at my cynicism. I said, “What? Bacon is good! What’s wrong? You think she’d say, ‘The capital of Vermont is Montpelier?’” Michael indicated that he did, in fact, expect Anna’s thoughts to be more sentimental or cerebral if she abruptly voiced them, intelligibly, in English. (Yeah, because if she spoke Russian or German, I’d be even more impressed; although – I love irony – that is absolutely true.) I don’t know if Anna’s a genius, but I’m certain she’s a wonder-dog and sacred cow in the eyes of my kids. Feeling bad about my bacon slander, I reminded Michael, “Don’t forget Anna’s an exceptional birddog too, you know, so she might say, ‘When are we goin’ huntin’ again, fellas?’” That smoothed things over.

The other day I asked Michael, “Do you know what Pi is?” Michael said, “Yeah, it’s that three-point-fourteen number, right?” I was excited, my son, the math whiz. I said from memory, “It’s three-point-one-four-one-five-nine-two-six. But it goes on forever, technically. It’s an infinite decimal.” Me, the math whiz. Suddenly, my excitement vanished and I felt mildly depressed. I asked Michael if they’ve talked about Pi already in school and he said no. I felt relieved. Only half-joking, I said, “Good, then you have no business knowing what Pi is yet. Go back to playing Legos or cars or whatever.” Michael smiled.

Megan is still a gleeful farter. I sense more pride than embarrassment. She’s very comfortable with me, of course, but I’m wondering when girls become more furtive about this. Other than with Megan, I’m pretty sure I have a better chance of seeing Bigfoot, or a Cubs World Series. Like Jon Hamm said in a YouTube clip I saw recently, “I was under the impression that girls never farted.” Even I blame it on the dog in mixed company. It's just another profound, parent-related thing I ponder daily.