The Colony

Megan has recently discovered the joys of nudity. "Naken gull! Naken gull!" ("Naked girl") she yells at all times. As in "Take my clothes off!"

One More Since it is TOO Cute

I mean, really?! they are HOLDING HANDS, for pete's sake.

All Saints Day...oh, Fine. Halloween.

So the kids officially LOVE Halloween. The amount of candy in our house at this moment is staggering...it is more than I would want my children to eat in an entire YEAR, yet they seem hell-bent on polishing it off by Monday. Don't tell, but I am going to weed it down to a respectable level and take the rest to the food pantry in town. Anyway, many of you are waiting for pictures. Please note Michael's new chica. It has taken some time, but he has finally gotten over (and seemingly completely forgotten about) Caitlin, who went to a different preschool this year. THIS is Haley.

Dad Entry #16

Thanks for the comments. We enjoy them. Feel free; it lets us know at least one person reads the blog (‘one’ happens to be the number of comments we’ve gotten this month I think). Alright then, what’s new? Well, Megan’s more of a chatterbox lately. That’s good; she was maybe a tiny bit language delayed. No worries; she can almost keep up with the rest of us now, griping and carrying on. Although, she does say sweet things once in a while, like, “Hi Daddy” or “Bye Daddy” or “Daddy hold you” or “Daddy Hep” or “Pees Daddy” or “Daddy, pees hep” or “Daddy, dink” or “Daddy, chap-tick,” and so on. FYI, pees = please, hep = help, dink = drink, chap-tick = chapstick. My favorite, though, is most definitely, “Daddy, fix it.” When a toy comes apart or her toy stroller seat comes loose, yep, she knows who to talk to! And if you’re wondering, the answer is ‘yes’ I have, though only once or twice, sabotaged a toy just so she’ll look up at me, hold out the toy, and say, “Daddy, fix it.”

Michael continues to be, well, kind of mean to Megan. It’s tough to admit, and we’re working on it. Though, really, we shouldn’t be that surprised. It was that way for Sara and me, too. Our older siblings were the same as Michael. Cruel. Just kidding! (Sara and I both have only one older sibling; although, in our cases, both are sisters… and both are wonderful, of course.) Megan seems to be more accepting of Michael, handing him toys, sharing, watching and learning from him, talking to him. But he mostly views her as an annoyance, ignoring her and then, when she touches a prized toy of his, he says, “No, Megan!” loudly and takes the toy away from her, yanking it out of her small hands or dashing ahead of her to the spot where he anticipates she’s going to – GASP! – pick up and play with one of his whales, or an instrument, or his favorite book that day.

It’s cute that Megan really likes certain themes or characters that were formerly favorites of Michael’s. For example, Thomas and Percy are making a comeback! And last week I must’ve read the Cars book about ‘Sow-ee and McKeen’ a hundred times to her. Sweetheart. The only thing keeping her from being the perfect daughter – other than the damage she does during temper tantrums – is the fact she still very much prefers her mother. For everything. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.” Yeah, yeah, ‘Daddy ain’t nothin’… but he’ll keep tryin’, one of these days you’ll trust him more than Mommy!’

My heart swelled a little this weekend – it was so cute – because of Megan’s response to my taking a chocolate shake away from her. I bought one shake to share after dinner. Sara and I put a nice dent in it, then gave it to Megan. Well, she got after it; the straw would’ve been gurgling in the bottom of an empty cup if we let Megan have it for 30 more seconds. Not to mention the crippling brain freeze Megan was headed for. So it was Michael’s turn. Except, he was busy trying on his Orca costume – and that’s a story for another time, like Halloween. But Michael hadn’t gotten his share of the shake yet. So I took it away from Megan and set it on the banister next to the TV, to wait for Michael. Megan grumbled a little, maybe flailed her arms for a second and kicked at some toys on the floor. But then she was suddenly calm. ‘Hmm,’ I thought, ‘Megan exhibiting a little anger management. Nice.’ But that wasn’t it at all. Megan was in problem solving mode. She trudged all the way to her stool by the fridge, grabbed it, and lugged it all the way over by the TV. The stool is practically bigger than she is. But she got it in place, stepped aboard, then reached up – on her tiptoes – for the shake. She could just barely touch the cup. She couldn’t move it, couldn’t grab it, but she was trying. I think she might’ve fallen off the stool if I hadn’t intervened. I gave her one more sip.

We Just Can't Get Enough

of the pumpkin farm. We went with Grandma and Papa Mike AND Aunt Jenny, Uncle Scott, Alissa and Ellie! We had apple cider, apple donuts, apple pizza...well, ok, really only cheese pizza. The kids had tons of fun hanging out and jumping off the stone wall and we had quite the little photo shoot amongst the pumpkins. Oh, and the older kids got a little sneaky outside the john.

Dad Entry #15

Michael asked Sara if they make “small wet suits, like wet suits for kids.” I was pretty impressed with the question. These days, Michael wants to be a marine biologist. Gone, or back-burnered at least, are his dreams of driving a train or a racecar. He would prefer to swim with cetaceans (for those of you who failed biology – which must include me since I didn’t even recognize that word or know how to pronounce it, the first 'c' sounds like an 's' and the second an 'sh' – ‘cetaceans’ is the order that includes whales, dolphins and porpoises). So Michael is making plans to swim with whales; he’s thinking, “Hmm, I’ll need some scuba gear and a wet suit. Except – uh-oh! – the only gear I’ve ever seen on TV and in books is for adults. Oh shit!” JUST KIDDING. Michael doesn’t know that word. He knows ‘cetaceans’ but not ‘shit’. Man, we are good parents. Just kidding about that too. I wish Michael knew more about sharing and less about baleen. More about picking up toys and less about brass instruments. Michael still has trouble being nice to Megan, sharing with her, helping her. And some days I wish Michael knew more about things like homeruns and touchdowns. But his interests are great and they keep changing. Trains, cars, instruments, whales. I think Michael connects things well; he goes pretty deep into the details of his favorite subjects. Like wet suit sizes. He asks good questions for a four-year-old.

Random

I always feel like the moment I put up pictures, another daddy entry appears. Not that I don't like the daddy entires...I love them. Love, Fury, Love, Fury was one of the best descriptions of my lovely lady I have ever heard. Anyway, I am going to throw up another few pics so we can see some cute faces. Maybe subconsciously, I know it makes Dan want to write.

Dad Entry #14

I love Megan. She’s like a little explosive device. Or a severe weather pattern. A beautiful calm (before the storm). Then the storm. Big storm. Blessed calm again (and time to clean up storm damage). Then Hurricane Megan is back. She screams, flails and throws. She’s very fast (that part I’m kind of proud of). Her little hands can grab, push, slap, hurl and swat things in a blur. She lays waste to everything within reach. All because we gave her oatmeal instead of waffles. I know, Megan, you want waffles and you don’t understand grocery lists and trips to the store, how items must be purchased and brought home and prepared. And, alas, sometimes we run out of what we want! Especially those things we over consume, like wine (which Mommy drinks a lot of when you act like this) and waffles (the only thing you will eat this week, Megan) and now your milk cup is bouncing off the floor and I hear Velcro separating because you’re ripping off your bib which you will fling into the air momentarily. Here’s a high level view of Megan’s attitude cycle, her daily thought process. “Life is wonderful. Life is unbearable. Life is wonderful. Life is unbearable. Love. Fury. Love. Fury.” And so forth. It kind of goes like that.

Michael asked me this last night, “Daddy, if there is danger, does a mommy Orca protect her baby Orca from danger.” Yes. “Does the mommy Orca eat the danger?” Yeah, I suppose she could if she wanted. Orcas are the biggest predators in the ocean, other than Sperm Whales (which, Michael tells me, will dive deep and eat a big squid once in a while). Orcas will eat sharks, bears, other whales, etc. I wish I was so tough I could 'eat the danger' like that!

Dad Entry #13

Meggie practiced a valuable skill yesterday. All day long. She put her shoes on, then took them off. On, off, on, off. Her patent leather shoes, too. Fancy. It’s good practice for a woman, I guess. They buy a greater variety of shoes than most men (excluding Papa Mike, for example, and cross-dressers). Yes, women wear shoes with lots of different straps, buckles, snaps, heels, ties, laces, etc. And velcro. Velcro is an option if you’re a two-year-old chick. Or, probably, if you’re really stylish or eccentric. Meggie’s shiny shoes have velcro straps, which she mastered in a day. Good job, Megs! You’re learning the important things, Sweetheart! I will take care of you until you’re 40 anyway. Then your husband can start helping a little. Maybe. Just kidding, calm down all you feminists. Actually, I heard a minister talking about how God is as much woman as man, how women are not to be submissive; they are equal (funny, now I hear all you women saying, “Only equal? Ha! We’re better!”). This minister admitted his thinking was most definitely influenced by having a daughter. He said, “Nothing turns a good man into a raging feminist faster than having a daughter!” Very true. My daughter will NOT be submissive to anyone (the Bible only hints at that because it’s culturally conditioned). The Big Man in the New Testament was radically inclusive when it came to women, despite that being very contrary – offensively so, in fact - to the cultural norms of the day. Actions speak louder than words. Anyway, Meggie will have every opportunity. She can be the first woman President if Hillary doesn’t beat her to it. First NFL quarterback, first Cy Young winner, the real ‘G.I. Jane’ (first female Navy SEAL; and Megan’s more beautiful than Demi Moore), whatever. Actually, no military or football; she might get hurt. And Major League pitchers are often injured by shots hit back up the middle. So that’s unacceptable. But first woman to beat Tiger Woods works, or first person – man or woman - on Mars (although I’ll have to inform NASA that simple redundant designs won’t do on Megan’s spacecraft; we’ll need multi-redundant systems in place – can we do multi-multi-redundant, please? - to guarantee her safe return). Man, I do have more sympathy now for Danica Patrick’s parents. My parents got to know them a little through Bobby Rahal, and I had breakfast with them at a race once, too. I showed Bev Patrick a picture of Megan and she ooh-ed and ahh-ed over how cute Meg-Pie is. There are a significant amount of fatalities in racing, Indy-style racing in particular. Sorry, Megan. No way.

And for the record, in support of feminism: Michael is four and still needs help with shoes that aren’t flip-flops or slip-ons like Crocs.

I got home from a softball game recently just before bedtime (bedtime for the kids, I mean). Michael, already in his PJs, greeted me at the door and noticed it was dusk. He asked me, “Hey Daddy, can I come outside and see the darkness?” Michael goes to bed all summer before sundown. Being outside at night – aka seeing ‘the darkness’ – is pretty novel to him, at least in early fall, when it’s been months since the short days of his last winter. Four-year-olds haven’t experienced that many seasonal transitions. The seasons and changes are pretty awesome. One reason to stay in the Midwest. Maybe the only reason. So Michael and I walked around the yard just after dusk. We looked at the moon, some bright stars, looked at airplane lights as they approached O’Hare. We enjoyed some deep breaths of crisp, night air. He commented on the American flag and sign at our neighborhood entrance which appeared to glow in the spotlights. Michael was sort of in a state of wonderment. Call me crazy but it was a powerful moment for me. We take a lot of simple – but still cool – things for granted. Sunrise, sunset, the night sky, changing temperatures, fresh air, cool grass on bare feet (Michael enjoyed that, too).

Cider, Anyone?

So because it was about 150° yesterday, we thought it would be a GREAT day for the pumpkin farm! It has been uncharacteristically warm around here this fall so far, and something about pumpkins, cider and candy corn just does not mix with heat exhaustion. I don't know what it is. We met friends there, and a good time was has by all. All the kids, at least. We were all too hot to really even pay attention to what they were doing. Michael and Meg were thrilled as they basically ate caramel apple and cookie for lunch. Bad mommy.

We're Going to the Zoo, Zoo, Zoo...You can come Too, Too, Too...

Michael wanted to go on the carousel SO bad...and after Grammie bought the tickets and they got in line, the waterworks started. "I don't WANT to go!" We (well, ok, I) forced him to, since we had the tickets and goodness knows one should not waste $1.50. Turns out, it was fun! He got to ride on an "orca-looking" dolphin. Yea!!

A Young Richard Avedon? Or maybe Man Ray...

Michael got ahold of, and figured out, my camera. Following are a few of his gems. There were so, so many to choose from.

Dad Entry #12

Sara, you turkey, you've already updated my age on the header above to 32. I was thinking you'd forget for a while so that, unbeknownst to the world, I could remain 31 for a while longer.

Dad Entry #11

After reading a whale book, Michael told me that orcas fight bears. Recall that orcas are killer whales (Michael had to teach me this). Anyway, Michael said orcas win because they are more ‘bitery.’ Phonetically, that’s ‘bite – er – ee’ and, as Michael clarified for me, “It’s like the word bite, Daddy.” He must’ve known his word was not so common. I don’t think he would’ve stopped, furrowed his brow, and felt the need to clarify otherwise. It’s funny; it’s like a feeling-out process with the language. But Michael speaks with authority. He didn’t ask me if ‘bitery’ was a word; he told me what it meant! Come to think of it, he is a know-it-all chatterbox at times. But we’re happy he’s good verbally. He’s expressive and clear; and he’s unafraid to try new words which, at his age, can result in made-up or ‘non-words’ (e.g. ‘bitery’) and mispronounced words (e.g. ‘scupa’ diver). I don’t correct him much yet; I don’t want to squash his creativity. He’ll be challenged and corrected a million times in life – especially if he gets married – so I let things like ‘bitery’ go for now. And obviously I knew what he meant. Orcas have bigger mouths and bigger teeth. The Chicago Bears defense is the toughest thing on earth but bears, as a species, are simply not in the same weight class as orcas. After all, male orcas can weigh-in at over 6 tons. They can eat 500 lbs of food a day. And yes, they will, though rarely, take polar bears as prey. Wow. By the way, did you know that a blue whale’s heart is the size of a car (and it can pump 60 gallons of blood per minute)? Nature is amazing. Michael knows this – that nature is awesome – but I seem to have forgotten momentarily.

Sara and I are going to re-tile our master bath. So I’m ripping out the old tile this week. Michael is ‘helping.’ He mostly pounds nails into the sub-floor, only a little bit so I can just yank them out with my hands. He also pokes around in the little gap between the drywall and the floor, stuff like that. I have to keep my eye on him, though. Not for safety reasons – with hammers, chisels and tile shards laying around, who cares about safety (just kidding DCFS). It’s because I heard, “Look Daddy, I’m working on this thing here.” Michael was referring to the exposed air vent. He’d mangled the aluminum air duct opening. Yikes! I was able to bend the opening back to its previous rectangular shape. Sort of. But in the spirit of not stifling creativity – as above with his uncorrected use of ‘bitery’ – I cringed but commended him on his good craftsmanship. Then I told him to alert Daddy before he undertakes any special projects – like HVAC improvements – and, yes, I told him he can cause damage if he’s not careful, if he does things incorrectly, or if he does things I haven’t okayed first. I’m the foreman, I told him. The contractor. And he’s a laborer. So he has to take orders. And get used to it, I told him. And then I think I mentioned ‘marriage’ again.

My Megan update: she’s cute. The other day she was caring for her baby. She wrapped up her baby, a.k.a. dollie, in a blanket. She held it, rocked it and fed it with a toy bottle. She said "dollie" a few times in her sweet, soft voice. Then she got flustered – because she’s so cute I had to give her and her dollie a hug – so she frowned, whined and twisted away from me. Then she tossed her baby and it crashed headfirst on the hardwood floor. Ouch!

Brief Exchange with Michael

We are having a lousy day. The kids are grumpy and mean and I am an angel, of course.

They just ate lunch and then headed into the living room to play. I walked by the door and saw Michael looking for me guiltily.

I asked him,"What?"

He replied "I'm NOT hitting MEGAN!!!! She's too far AWAY from me!"

I said (facetiously, of course), "Is that the only reason?"

He said, "Yes."

A Day Out

In a cute downtown near us. We went early and stopped in for coffee as we got started. Megan and Michael got chocolate milk. We then got cheese popcorn and fudge for breakfast (or maybe it was lunch by then). Megan sometimes forgets that when she uses a straw, she doesn't have to tip the glass...long story short, she dumped it all over her lap (click on photo to see large). We decided to stay a bit longer, until people giving us "looks" over the fact that Meg looked like she had had serious blow out all over her pants drove us out of town.

Speaking of Daddy Love

Here is a cute one. I asked Meg to "snuggle" daddy's head.

A Snuggle

A rare glimpse at a snuggle with Daddy. This happens so infrequently, that it is a bloody miracle that I got it here. At the zoo. Like sighting an almost extinct animal.

The Scar

After Dan had gone on about how scars are cool for guys, when I did finally take off the LAYERS of bandages, he said, "WOW. That is really bad." Great, so now I can't fall back on the "it's cool" mentality when I look at my perfect son's not-so-perfect eyebrow. Now it's just not perfect.

He's a Natural

Speller, that is. A few days ago, Michael yelled, "MOM! I spelled PUZZLE!" When I looked over, he had this going on on the side of the fridge. Nice.

Dad Entry #10

Megan was feverish yesterday; she’s getting her molars or maybe it’s a little cold / flu bug. Fevers subdue her. She slows, softens; she’s very snuggly all of the sudden. It’s my personal heaven. I hold her and she leans her head against my chest, gets comfy, sighs. Very snuggly. It’s pretty wonderful. Maybe she loosely grabs my shirt with one hand but otherwise she’s very relaxed, warm, sort of needy even. I can take both her little hands and hold them in one of mine... and she doesn’t immediately whip them away and scowl or grunt, all irritated. No calls for Mommy either, no squirming or trying to spin away from Daddy – like she does otherwise when I just want a quick hug - no whining or repeating the same word over and over like, “Down, down, down.” No movie requests even, like “Shark Tale, Shark Tale, Shark Tale.” Last night I just held her for a while and we watched the Crocodile Hunter. Hmm, that doesn’t sound very fitting, very calming, it’s a very energetic show, but Michael was absorbing it all for us, watching and imitating, running “like a cheetah,” attacking my legs “like a lion,” and wrestling pillows into a death roll “like a crocodile.” Yeah, practicing a ‘death roll’ sounds pretty violent, but that’s what it’s called. Michael knows wild animals hunt and kill prey for food. It’s a fact of life. Death and taxes. Even so, I guess we should try to use friendlier words when available. Michael already runs around talking about ‘Orcas.’ Who calls them Orcas? Nobody. They’re Killer Whales. So be it, we’re getting PC with our animal terminology. Before Michael, I didn’t even know Orcas and Killer Whales were one and the same, that they could / should be called Orcas now. Fair enough, but I can’t think of another name or description for ‘death roll’ above. Sara told me Gretchen would like to hear more about me (Dan / Dad) on the blog, maybe a little less about the kids. Okay, sure. Umm, let’s see… I’m going to have spaghetti for lunch. And I wore my dark jeans and a light green polo today.

Dad Entry #9

Michael told me last week, at bedtime, “Daddy, I might get scared tonight.” I asked him what might scare him. He explained that the ‘Veggie Tales’ movie with the ‘Island of Perpetual Tickling’ wasn’t a good movie and that I should take it out to the garage right away, and then we should sell it in a garage sale. I said, sure, we can do that, or I could take it to work and give it away. Michael said that would be fine if I took it out to my car immediately so I wouldn’t forget to take it to work. I asked Sara, “What’s up with the ‘Island of Perpetual Tickling?’” I tickle and wrestle with Michael all the time. She said even though it’s animated, of course, there is a faceless, grim reaper look-alike who runs the island. Though I explained to Michael it’s nothing to be afraid of, I banished the movie to the garage. Michael also said he was scared of “the three letters.” When I asked him to identify the perpetrators within a recitation of his ABCs, he explained, “No Daddy, not like that, the loud letters.” And then I understood. Michael doesn’t like unfamiliar noises that are sudden, unexpected given the source, or just too loud. Industrial strength toilets in public restrooms, for example. The ones that are so loud when flushed it sounds like the whole room will get sucked in. Michael has entered many a public restroom with hands over ears. I guess loud flushes fall in the ‘unexpected given the source’ category. Who knew toilets could be so loud? The ones at home aren’t like that. (I wonder how often a child thinks - about anything worthy of comparison, not just toilets - ‘The ones at home aren’t like that?’) Anyway, sorry, getting back to the ‘loud letters’ bit, I realized Michael meant the big ‘THX’ banner before movies with THX surround sound technology. The ‘three letters’ fill the screen and the volume is slowly increased and blared. Meggie has a lot of words now. She totes around a cleaned-out mayonnaise container full of whale figurines. “Whales, whales, whales.” She also has a whale book she calls out for. She likes to read “Cake,” her Strawberry Shortcake book and who can resist when she says, “Hep, pease. Hep, pease.” It’s so sweet it’s hard to deny her request, even if she wants ‘help’ reaching an open bottle of nail polish, or Mommy’s glass of red wine, anything she will undoubtedly spill or break. Prompted by Mommy, Megan will advise anyone leaving in a vehicle to “Dive fafe.” And Mommy has Megan tell Daddy, “You a bum!” once in a while; it’s from her book ‘The Paper Bag Princess.’ Megan’s long hair is gorgeous. And when she runs, or laughs - or does anything - it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

Dad Entry #8

Today, I just wanna say thanks to my Godmother, Donna. She’s been a wise influence since day one for me. I think wisdom and humor are related. I think people who identify and contribute the latter – whether they realize it or not – possess the former. It’s relevant to the blog because I hope my kids have people like Donna in their lives, people that bring a smile to their face, just the thought of them even if it’s months or years between visits. Donna is still rolling her eyes at my description of her. Hey, I’m only offering my impression and God knows, with all my insecurities and idiosyncrasies, I have a distorted view of everything! But Donna is wise and fun and calming because she will offer a shrug and a laugh even if the topic deserves harsher treatment. I appreciate that attitude and the people who subscribe to it. Now, I hear you Ashley and George, but everyone deviates, once in a while, from their ‘steady state’ mode of behavior!

I think I See an Object!

Today we went with some friends to a cool little exhibit with these massive mosaic tile sculptures by Niki de Saint Phalle. It was seriously neat and the kids thought it was, too...Michael coined the phrase 'o' the day: "I think I see an OBJECT!" An object is a sculpture. Don't know where he picked up that lingo. But he and his friend Ben used it a lot today.

I think I See an Object! Part Two

Dad Entry #7

Sara, please remove your "Too cute" post and picture below. Megan's top is too tight. And where are her pants?!?!

You're Squishing Me!

A rare moment of the kids actually enjoying one another. Well, sort of. Michael tackled Megan and draped his entire body weight over her tiny body and then laid there posing for the camera as Megan, smiling since she's unsure of if this is supposed to be fun and if she should accept the "game" Michael is playing, squirmed to no avail. Not to worry, I promptly removed him after 3 or 4 pics.

Too cute

not to post. I think this one might get daddy through a few long work days. Look at the sweet face. You would never know a raging demanding independent diva inhabited that body.

The Injury

Not easy to see under the load of bandages. Michael was in heaven. And TYLENOL. His elixir of choice.

Don't Mess

with Megan when Michael is around. Only HE is allowed to push her, hit her, head butt her, biff her, bash her...the list goes on but you get the idea.

Come Hither

You know you can't resist the "Girl in a Cooler" look. ME-ow.

Another Accident

Well, more news to report. On his apparantly never-ending quest to look like an NHL hockey player, Michael took a dive yesterday from Meggies doll stroller and cracked his face on the wood file cabinet in the living room. Why exactly he was standing on the worlds' most unstable and unable-to-sustain-his-body-weight toy is not yet understood. Unfortunately, his eyebrow/forehead caught the edge of the cabinet and about 3/4" in and right above his eyebrow actually popped open. It was a VERY traumatic moment. He was VERY upset. I was VERY shaky. We were VERY lucky that Grandma was there to help gauge the situation, send us to the ER and take care of Megan. Michael was so afraid he'd have to get a shot and begged us not to go to the doctor. After we wiped off the blood, we took a look and the cut was extremely deep. Luckily, when we got to the 24 hour Care Center near us, the doctor told us that we could use super glue instead of stitches. Michael was still really struggling and crying a lot (quietly, though) and I had to sing "Raindrops on Roses" multiple times (in front of the nurses!) to help calm him. They washed it all out and gave him a touch of a numbing agent and then glued him up. Very wierd. He seems much better and has only complained of pain a few times. The edge mark is still swollen and bruised...we can only hope the actual cut heals well and that his eyebrow isn't off kilter!

I can't take much more of this.

War Paint

Ahhh, another day at the painting table. What usually starts out and ends in a realtively orderly fashion went tragically awry a few days ago when Michael deemed it necessary to paint his face. Immediately Megan decided it imperative that she do the same. She became very upset when she rubbed the paint in her mouth...it does taste a little bitter.

Camping

In the living room. They love it when I pitch the tent.

Dad Entry #6

Well, not much happenin’, just the usual chaos. Sara slaving hard all the time while I chill out, at Motorola during the day and in front of the Cubs game at night. The Ploehn reunion was fun. Michael loved everyone there. He was high as a kite on chocolate the whole time. Now any mention of the reunion throws Michael into frenzied excitement. Someone slipped him his first brownie five minutes after we arrived. Then Sally, Maxine, Leroy, Troy, Kate, Patty, Alma… they all worked hard to keep his buzz on. I think he pooped a Hershey’s bar – 100% chocolate – in a rest area toilet on the way home. Parenting is hard. Michael is bright and sensitive, but that means manipulative and temperamental. And Megan is a girl. Clichés are clichés for a reason. I’ve never met a man with great skills or training when it comes to caring for women. That includes caring for wives and daughters, I'm afraid. By the way, women aren't experts on men, either. I guess that's the Mars / Venus thing. So with Megan, for example, I press on, blind, clueless, clumsy, but doing my best. Holding her, reading to her, playing with her, combing her hair and trying to braid it (what a gnarled, knotted disaster that was), teaching her words, teaching her to be nice, to share, helping her explore things, and making sure she doesn't break herself or anything else when she gets mad and freaks out. Michael didn’t do the tantrum thing but Megan gives it a try once in a while. Although, by way of critique, I must say her tantrums have lacked enthusiasm lately. I guess she sort of realized they don’t do anything for her. If she studied me closely, she’d notice they make Daddy sweat, but Mommy is a pro. Sara has never reacted much to fuel the fire so Megan learned quickly they’re pointless. Luckily, Sara is terrific with the kids. She’s firm but warm. That’s the magic combo, I think. She says she’s only doing her best, nothing more, learning as she goes. I don’t think so. Spare me the humility. I know she reads a lot, consults other moms, works at it. But there’s something natural there, too. She’s good. Of course, Sara is stubborn and strong; she approaches everything with a degree of confidence, with resolve. Gosh, I think I admire my wife. What’s wrong with me?!?! Am I not a man? A husband? Okay, enough of that. Michael is really getting comfortable in the water. That’s good. It’s fun and easy to hit the pool with him now. With his length – long arms and legs - he could be a great swimmer. Like his Mommy and Papa John. Maybe an Olympic champ or a Navy SEAL. That’s all. We don’t set the bar very high in this family. I do wish Michael would shoot hoops and hit the ball with me a little more, though, baseballs or golf balls. Eventually, he’ll get tired of Papa Mike, Papa John, Uncle Scott, Steve, Sally, Leroy, and the rest of the Ploehn’s, Dave, and his old man – that’s me, geez, I’ve never quite expressed it that way – anyway, eventually he’ll get tired off us all beating him like a drum on the golf course, and taking his money. He’ll start playing more, getting better. And this family is merciless. Cold competitors, everyone of 'em I mentioned above. Nice guys finish last in that crew. I learned the hard way. Michael’s Papas, his Uncle Scott and Aunt Sally, they’ll take the change he's saved, the piggy-bank he keeps it in, the shirt off his back, his toys, his college money, his beloved “pillpo-zings”, all of it “fair and square” on the golf course. “Sure, Papa, I’ll go play golf with you.” Oh no. That’s when I double-confirm Michael’s Papas don’t know about his 529.

"You are a Bum."

That is from The Paper Bag Princess, and was Megan's first full sentence. We of course immediately called daddy at work so she could tell him that he's a bum. The book is a favorite of hers and mine and everyone who has a little girl should get a copy.

Stickers

The kids love stickers. LOVE them. Can sit for an hour "doing stickers." Michael makes beautiful grid-like pictures...nothing overlapping, all fitting together like a puzzle. This is how Meg does them. Nothing on the paper, simply a stack on her shirt. All in her top right quadrant. There's about 7 dollars worth on her shirt here.