That's My Girl!

We went to the bagel store to get a dozen bagels today. While we're in line, Wrig declares "I want pumpernickel!" So, okay, we work a few pumpernickel into the order (don't tell Wrig, but we would have gotten 'em anyway).

After I place the order, Wrig says, "Actually, I don't like pumpernickel."

"Then why did you ask for it?"

"Because it's fun to say."

Where, I wonder, did she learn that kind of logic?

Kid's Night

Wrigley plays this game she calls napping. She hides in the closet, we shut the doors and she bursts out shouting "Cock-a-Doodle-Doo, time to wake up". She could do this 100 times before she needs a real nap. She taught the kids at Kid's Night how to play the game too.







Here are more Kid's Night Photos.

Happy Mother's Day!

Christie and I love love love thunderstorms. When we lived in Denver, we eagerly awaited the daily four o'clock gully washer. We courted each other counting lightning strikes out the big windows in her dorm room. When we said we "wanted to live somewhere where it rains all the time" we weren't thinking of Portland's daily drizzle, we were thinking of boom and blast and flash of light.

But this isn't about my beautiful Christie and how much I love her and what a wonderful Mom she is. This is about my mom and what a wonderful Mom she is.

You see, I didn't always love thunderstorms. When I was a little boy, we lived in Iowa. Thunderstorms made my knees knock and my teeth chatter. Worse, they kept me awake at night. The first big boom sent me scurrying to my parents' bed, where Mom would soothe me and comfort me and tell me that I didn't need to afraid of thunder and lightning. I would curl up next to her and sleep like a baby.

A little over 10 years ago, when my folks were living in Florida, I made a stunning discovery: Mom is terrified of thunder and lightning. They make her whole body shake and shiver, not just her knees. She's always been afraid of thunder, even when she was cooing and comforting me.

When I first learned that Mom was afraid of thunder, I thought it was merely ironic. Now that I'm a parent myself, and now that I understand how easy it is to be selfish as a parent, I am amazed at Mom's bravery. I wonder what challenges Wrig will throw my way that I won't be able to met with the grace and courage that Mom has.

I like to think I'm a good parent. I know that Mom has set a very high standard.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.

Fun Conversations You Can Have When You're a Parent

Just think, if I had never had a kid, I never would have had the chance to explain why it's a bad idea to lick water off of the back deck ...

Fun Conversations You Can Have When You're a Teacher

The other day, I thought one of my kids had snuck off to the bathroom to get high, and I didn't have time to check it out. I picked out a student that I knew was honest but probably had been to a party or two. "Hey," I asked him, "do you know what pot smells like?"

He froze. It was the funniest thing I had seen in a long time, watching those gears grind: Why is he asking me? Do I look stoned? No, I'm not stoned. If I say yes, will he think I'm a stoner? Will he think I'm stoned? Oh, crap! Am I stoned? No, I'm not stoned. Am I in trouble?

"It's okay if you say yes," I say, as reassuringly as possible. "You're not in trouble."

He nods quickly, as if I had asked the most obvious question in the world.

Things You Don't Know 'Cause You Have to Go to Work

Rumor has it that when Wrig wakes up, she streeeeetches her arms way over her head, pulls her shirt up to her chin (ensuring full belly exposure, which, I'm sure, is painfully tempting to the Zerbert Monster), and gently rubs her tummy.

She does this every day, I'm told.

If a=b, and b=c, then a= ...

So we're at the park on Sunday, and Wrigley's swinging away on the swing (which has been amazingly popular this week), and I'm pushing away on the swing, and Wrig announces as only a 2-1/2 year old can: "I'm having fun."

I reply, "Are you having fun? That's great!"

A brief pause. Swing swing swing. "This," she says, "is like the firetruck video."

"Really?" I ask, arching an eyebrow to the best of my limited eyebrow-arching ability. "How is this like the firetruck video?"

Another pause. Swing swing swing. She kind of licks her lips a little. "Well ... they're both fun!"

Who am I to argue?

Well, Alright...

Our friend Rosemary has had a blog for several years. Sometimes a game will come up, and so here I go diving into my first little blogger's game:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.

1. "He served home cooked food at a small dining room table in the back, later opened a popular restuarant and motel, sold them to pay off debts, and at age 65 became a traveling sales man once again, offering restaurant owners the "secret recipe" for his fried chicken." Eric Schlosser, Fast Food Nation

2. "They will also, in all likelihood, push all our buttons, evoke all our insecurities, test all our limits and boundaries, and touch all the places in us where we fear to tread and feel inadequate or worse." - Myla and Jon Kabat-Zinn, Everyday Blessings, The inner Work of Mindful Parenting

3. "The left fielder had a good arm, and he got the ball right in to the second baseman, but when the dust settled Jennifer T. was safe with another double." Michael Chabon, Summerland

4. "All quick breads contain chemical leaveners (baking soda and baking powder) that are speedy and reliable." Editors of Cook's Illustrated Magazine, Baking Illustrated.

(That was surprisingly disatisfying! It would have been much better if we did the 6th sentence.)