Christmas Number 3

The kids have so many Christmases...this was the last one, in Kansas.

Star Destroyer Success

Thank you, Grandma, for providing several hours of brain-racking, toe-tapping fun with this Lego set. Dan slaved for an eternity while Michael stopped by frequently to check on his progress. He then of course posed for the photo as if he himself had built this mighty ship. I might be exaggerating...perhaps he put a few pieces on.

Preschool Sing-Along

So preschoolers are not the best at following direction and completing a task as a group. But my girl was a STAR. Her teacher even asked me about a month ago to start bringing her twice a week so she wouldn't miss any practices for their little show. She said Megan is quite the singer. Megpie didn't let us down, belting them out practically alone and not missing any of her little hand gestures. Way to go, Peg.

Oh. My. Cuteness.

So Meg went a REAL salon and got a REAL haircut today. Cute, cute, cute.

My dad and I also finished cleaning and fixing up the antique bed I bought for her and got a mattress and all the bedding. We will set it up tomorrow...I am dreading it, cause she'll look so big in there. Photos to come.

Addendum

PTAETOS (POTATOES)
TRCEE (TURKEY) PI (PIE)
SEE IS MEE (?)
GEL EE FICH (JELLYFISH)
KRIL (KRILL)
BLOW HLS (BLOW HOLES)
GOOS (GOOSE)
DOFLIN (DOLPHIN) MEE (ME)
BLOOG WAL (BELUGA WHALE)
BEENS (BEANS)
NORWOL (NARWHAL)
SCRPEEIN (SCORPION)
LOBSTR (LOBSTER)
UNEMUNEE (ANEMONE) A TRIP TO THE ZOO STICKER
CRAB (YAY!)
ORCU (ORCA)
DINUSOR (DINOSAUR) SUOOID (SQUID)
BLOO WAL (BLUE WHALE)
SPRM WAUL (SPERM WHALE)
FLIPR (FLIPPER)
WILEE (WILLY)
MOBEE DIC (MOBY DICK)

Forgive the boy his 's's. We're working on it.

Dad Entry #39

Time to gush about Michael. My man wrote a story! How awesome is that! Here it is:



Translation: “There were lava. There were bionicles. There were mountains. There were rocks. There were volcanoes. There were (Michael doesn’t remember and we can’t decipher this word) bionicle. (And then – it appears – a partial signing of his name.)

I love him. He’s a little writer now! Not bad for a five-year-old. FYI, bionicles are robot-like toy figures. A favorite of his, obviously. Michael handed this to Sara and said, “Read my story to me, Mommy.” Sara said she panicked a little until the words, sentences, cadence began to take shape as she studied the letters. Hey, translating is fun; it makes me think of pictures I’ve seen of the Dead Sea Scrolls and other Bible manuscript fragments. Those were written in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek though, much tougher than ‘Michael’. Last week I typed up and printed out an original Star Wars story. I wrote it because we tell stories at night and sometimes the creativity just doesn’t trickle out, doesn’t flow. So I wanted a story to fall back on. He liked it. Maybe that sparked his new hobby. But we tell stories together at bedtime; it’s a collaborative thing, Michael chimes in with details and direction. So he’s always been storytelling, but now he’s story-writing!

Dad Entry #38

Meggie wants to go to the movie ‘heater’ to see Madagascar 2. Funny. Michael had a hard time yesterday with ‘Pot Belly’, one of our favorite sandwich places. He kept asking for a chocolate shake from ‘Hot Belly’, even after we corrected him. I’m sure his focus was on ‘chocolate shake’; he said those words perfectly. Megan proudly declares herself a “‘naken’ girl” just before getting clothes or jams on. California Pizza ‘Chicken’ is a favorite restaurant of hers (in case you aren't familiar, it's California Pizza Kitchen). Hey, whatever works. We understand each other. Megan refuses to recognize ‘brown’ as a color. Maybe the way the Iran refuses to recognize Israel as a sovereign nation. Brown is ‘chocolate milk’. We color with the chocolate milk crayon, “I’m going to wear my chocolate milk shoes, Dad,” and so on.

Michael's bed is so comfortable. After books, prayers, and stories, I fell asleep beside him the night I returned from Iowa. And I stayed down. That means I went to bed at 8:00. Yes. I was exhausted from hunting. It was tough tromping this year as the weather didn’t cooperate. I can’t wait to bring Michael with me some day.

It isn’t even Thanksgiving yet but the catalogs are out and little brains are agonizing over Christmas lists. They're including tons of things, of course, way too many things, but there's always more to consider, more lego sets, more toys. What to add, what to leave off? How to decide? The agony!!! Contrast this with a story I heard from a hunting buddy this year. He said his great-grandmother had kept and passed down a letter to Santa written by his grandpa. So this letter was written by a little boy about a hundred years ago. The boy – who became ‘Grandpa Don’ to our friend and has since passed away – asked for a piece of fruit and new boots. That's all. He needed new boots because his old ones were worn out and he couldn’t go out to milk the cows in the morning anymore. Wow. But I'm not criticizing my kids, or even the times. No way. I shopped the catalog too at that age; I circled everything, dog-eared every page. I didn't get it all, but I got more than an apple and a pair of boots. And so will M & M.

Faux Faux Hawk

He finally relented. Michael has been "growing his hair out like a rock star" for many months now. I finally talked him into a cut...we had hit the not short/not long lousy stage of growing out hair.

Livin' in a Box

So I got two big boxes in the mail and we turned them into houses! They started simple and are now getting pretty tricked out. We're talkin' window boxes. I will post again to show off the final creations.

Who Else is Sick of wall•E?

Please note how dilapidated the box is looking. It has become the Velveteen wall•E.

Oh, for Pete's Sake

This face. It's so cute it is ridiculous.

Identify That Substance

On this face I can confirm the presence of: marker, chocolate, snot and dirt. A trailer park? No, we live in suburban Chicago, why?

So I WAS Proud of this Costume...

until I had to look at it for 96 hours (more or less) straight. I am wondering if I will ever see my daughter, Megan, again, or if I am stuck with wall•e.

Happy Halloween!

That's Right. She looks Adorable.

Progress

I am sure you think that I mean progress as in "wall•e is coming along nicely" but in fact, what I mean is "megan finally let me put the wall•e costume over her head without completely freaking out."

Dad Entry #37

I may have mentioned this before, but I’m aware that Michael has likely started to accumulate lifelong memories. Or at least memories that will exist until he’s 33, as I am 33 and I still possess – or can recall – distinct memories of the timeframe that Michael is in (I remember my kindergarten days when we lived in Milwaukee; and I have some recollection of preschool and living in Davenport before that). So maybe I can’t speak for the ability to keep or recall these oldest of memories past my current age, like, say, when I’m 80; but from my own experience, I’m pretty certain that God has pressed the ‘record’ button inside of Michael’s head. And that means we need to start putting some awesome memories in there! I think we’re doing okay, so far. Sara is terrific about keeping the kids busy and engaged in activities like art, playing, swimming, running around with friends, going to the park, visiting memorable places like the zoo, birthday parties, etc. And I join and play with them as much as possible; we bike, play catch, hit balls, wrestle, build spaceships with legos, and fight with ‘light sabers’. Memories, though, might be tied to specific events, holidays, or traumas. Maybe Michael will remember his first visit to the Shedd Aquarium. Or the wound and stitches in his eyebrow. Or the awesome orca costume Sara made for him last Halloween. Or his Anakin Skywalker costume he’ll wear this year.

Megan pooped all over the house last night. At least it seemed that way. She did it right before I needed to leave her with the sitter (Emily) to go to my basketball game. Sara was at a Madonna concert with Gretchen. Sara has already done this cleanup drill several times (and God bless her; it isn’t fun). But this was my first. Megan made it to her portable potty seat and most of her poop was in there (a scary, huge amount, actually). I looked at Megan with concern but she was beaming a smile. No wonder, it must’ve felt great to rid herself of that. Then I noticed bits and smudges of poop on the floor. I had to clean her undies and her tights, her bottom was a mess too, and then a big portion of the floor because – of course – she stepped in some of it and tracked it around before I stopped her, told her softly “DON’T MOVE!”, undressed her, and cleaned her up. I was upstairs getting my shorts for bball on when it happened and I was summoned back to the kitchen where her little ‘toilet’ was. But Meggie did okay on her own; she got to her potty seat and I don’t think Emily knew exactly how to help. So, despite the mess, we celebrated! Good job, Meggie! Five more chocolate chips for you! That’s her reward for every ‘big girl potty’.

Megan almost exclusively uses the toilet now, or her little portable potty. She’s practically an adult! I’m sad. But no diapers is cool. And I’ve enjoyed taking Megan into public restrooms lately. Thankfully, she’s only done ‘pee-pee’ so far with me. We haven’t done a ‘number two’ – as my dad would say – in public yet. It’s about the cutest thing in the world, though, sitting Megan down and holding her so she won’t fall into the toilet after I’ve cleaned and rubbed the seat so furiously with toilet paper that I’ve removed its glossy finish. Proof that cheap TP is like sandpaper. Actually, I rub the seat until I see a wisp of smoke. Then I decide it’s clean enough for Megan so I help pull her pants down and I lift her onto it (she doesn’t need much seat space for her little bottom). Yes, Megan does her business with a smile, a bright-eyed, proud smile! I know she’s done when the tinkling stops but I wait for her to say, “I did it, Daddy.” Then I lift her off, set her down on her feet again, help her pull her pants or tights back up, untwist any uncooperative waistbands, then smooth her dress or put her back together in whatever way necessary. And I do this while making sure she refrains from touching ANYTHING! Last night we had a close call. Sort of. Megan saw the pink ‘puck’ in the restaurant urinal. I think everyone knows the cleaner / freshener ‘puck’ or urinal cake I’m referring too. Anyway, it was pink and Megan noticed it and started to lift an arm while taking a step toward it. I just about tackled her even though I was so close I could easily prevent what I was afraid of. Yeah, I sort of pounced on her like the Secret Service must do if the President is threatened and they need to instantly shield or move him. Then I calmly reiterated to her that we really don’t want to touch anything nearby – or in! – the urinal. Even if it’s pink.

Time Machine

Dad Entry #36

I am looking at a strip of Megan stickers tacked to my board at work. Sara made silver-dollar sized stickers with Megan’s face on them, along with the word ‘Thanks’. The stickers are pink – of course – and they were made to seal party favor bags given by Meg to her birthday guests. The ones I’m looking at are extras that I stole. There are six stickers in the strip. Six Megans. So I was admiring them, admiring that cute face, six of them, and I thought… yep… what if I had six Meggies instead of one? My first instinct was real excitement. That was tempered by some mild curiosity – then major concern – about the personality distribution. And six times the drama. Six times the fun, though, too. Too many hurts and hairdryers in the house, though. Too many tears, moods, and fashion crises to navigate, too many outfits for me to veto. Too many boyfriends! Would it be heaven? No. It would be hell. But the good times would be really fun! Six Megans! Of course, Megan is way too unique and super-special to think of having any extra Megans, any more than just the perfect one we have. Almost perfect.

PT

As in "potty training." That's right, the coolest chick in town had finally ditched the Huggies (most of the time) in order to join the world of people without diaper rash. She is impressing us thus far (it's only been a week, knock on wood) and seems to really enjoy her new "big girl" status. Oh, and the bribery tool of chocolate chips.

And is it just me, or does her stomach stick out further than her tush?