Dinner Conversation

The other night at dinner, Wrigley asked me "What else exists that I don't know there is?"

At first blush, you'd think this is an easy question. She's four (and a half), for Chrissakes. There's an entire universe of stuff she doesn't know about. But I was pretty stumped. The rusty little gears that spin my brain cranked and wheezed a bit. I ran through categories of things she knows - space, animals, the ocean - and tried to think of things we hadn't talked about. I couldn't think of an animal that exists that she doesn't know of. I drew a blank. A musical instrument? Another blank. How about a fruit? Apparently, my daughter is a know-it-all and she doesn't even know it!

I finally managed to spit out a few ideas - "tuba" was one, I believe - but she was pretty unimpressed with my selections.

And this would be another one of those "Aw, ain't they cute?" entries if it weren't for all the things that I could think of that exist that Wrigley doesn't know about yet. Date rape jumps to mind. Racism. She doesn't know about that one yet. She doesn't know about state sponsored torture. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. I just deleted a list of five things because it got too dark and my carefully masked bitterness began to show through too clearly.

This is not, I relaize, an earth shattering revelation: bad things exist. But right now, Wrig doesn't know that yet. And I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with this lack of information. Am I supposed to nurture her ignorance for as long as I can? Am I supposed to protect from all the bad guys and boogeymen? Am I supposed to ease her into the world of disappointment, one little heartbreak at a time?

Or do I just sit by and watch, letting her learn about all the things that exist that she doesn't know there is?

Breakfast Conversation

M: I think we went there when I was preganat.
D: You were pregnant?
M: I think so. Wrigley, was I ever pregnant or were you delivered by a stork?
W: I was delivered by a ... dolphin!
D: I don't know. She was ten days late. She might have been delivered by UPS.
W: That's not funny! I know I was delivered by a dolphin!

Slow-mo Meme

I was tagged a while back by David to list "five weird habits." It's taken a while to respond because I've been much more interested in reading blogs than blogging lately, but here goes:

1. I've never met a word I can't mispronounce. This is particularly unfortunate if you are a four year old trying to learn how to speak the English language. The exception to this rule: the word "meme." I have no idea how it's supposed to be pronounced, so I can't deliberately mispronounce it.

2. Despite an utter and complete lack of interest in fashion, I compulsively collect Converse All-Stars. I currently have 20 active pairs. I can't begin to count how many pairs I've gone through in the last twenty years.

3. Despite an utter and complete lack of musical skill, I am a walking jukebox. There is nothing you can say that I can't turn into a song. Try me. The exception: most French or Latin phrases.

4. This is more annoying than weird: I keep forgetting whether I've asked you (by which I really mean Christie) whether I've asked a question or not. And if I have, I surely don't remember your answer. Be patient. I usually get it by the third time.

5. I live for baseball on the radio. My favorite thing to do is nap while listening to a ball game. Baseball on tv is okay, too. Baseball live is a little stressful lately. But give me a couch, the low buzz of an am radio, and a lazy afternoon, and I am a happy man.

I'm supposed to tag 5 people now, but I'm not convinced we have five readers. If you wanna list five of your weird habits on your blog, be my guest!

And come back tomorrow. I have three more things to blog, but I'm pacing myself.

On turning four and a half

Dear Wrigley,

Your favorite things to do are hatching out of an egg, going to the south pole, buying toys from me, then selling them back, making books and making and wearing mud.

Your actually not much interested in toys, but you do always like a good toy car. We recently went to the toy store and you were able to pick out anything you wanted. You wanted MORE polished rocks. You have dozens of polished rocks. We got more polished rocks, some stickers, and this slippery gel thing. I convinced you to get a new Playmobile horse and wagon, but we could have been out of there with spending only $7.

Your sharing is hit or miss. You don't want anyone one to touch your stuff, but other times you like to give away toys. And not even just toys you don't care for anymore. Today you gave a brand new squishy-stick-on-the-wall bumblebee to our neighbor Abe.

You're learning how to do the monkey bars with a charming mix of determination and helplessness. You are an expert in the leaping hug. Let's learn to give a little warning, please. You have yet to meet a book you don't like, but poetry isn't you r favorite. We go to two storytimes a week, and we couldn't possibly skip one. If only I'd tell it that often, you'd like to hear the story of "How Marble got Lost" six times a day. You can remember things that happened way back. It is stunning.

You are a resiliant, exuberant, thoughtful, observant, methodical, happy kid, who Daddy and I are unbelievably lucky to have in our lives. You have taught me how to accept help, have fun without thinking too hard, receive sympthy, hatch out of an egg, do an arabesque, and finally learn that a hug really does help when I'm feeling grumpy.

Four and a half years into being your Mom, I can only wish for you more of the same. More books, more ice cream, more painted toes, and especially more leaping hugs.

Tulip Festival

Duck Races


Post Downpour


Behind the scenes

Alright, Alright

Alice wants to know how she is to stalk us if we never post. Let's shake off the dust here and show you some photos from the past 2 months.

It snowed here in Portland in March. It didn't stick, but the snow was huge huge flakes, and it was fun to watch.


Here's Wrig's favorite spot every morning in the winter.


Over Spring Break we visited the folk's new house in Austin.

They finally have a great place to display all that Peruvian pottery they got back in the early 70's.



And a grand staircase around which to display about 50 family photos. That's me on the left in the red tub and a couple photos to the right about to do a backflip.

In Austin Wrig did many of the things she does in Portland: convincing people to read to her



chasing bubbles


drawing with chalk, and




running.


Aunt Hilary taught Wrig how to try and get koi to nibble your fingers, but these fish were wiser than that.






We had a great time in Austin. While the warm weather was nice, we also got a good thunderstom. Wrigley discovered thunder scares her a bit, but not as much as it scares Sally the dog. Sally was happy to have such a small and willing body to snuggle with when the thunder arrived.