Thanks again to Dad for this belated anniversary e-mail/link.  (This was a song played at our wedding).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjA5faZF1A8&eurl

Recent track back from a blog visitor:  

http://www.baidu.com/s?wd=nursery+song?&lm=0&si=&rn=10&ie=gb2312&ct=0&cl=3&f=1&rsp=0

Tonight, I achieved ‘parental nirvana.’

A place where one parents without parenting; where guidance is given without speaking a word; where once disciplines without raising a voice.

It has taken many years, and many opportunities to practice and perfect (‘Thank you misbehaving children!) so do not be frustrated if you have yet to enter Valhalla’s play place and food court.

When I arrived home, Dayna, Brody and Maura were in Mo’s room playing ‘classroom’. Mo’ was the teacher, she was using a flipchart of the alphabet (along with pointer) and was reading books.  She told me to come in quietly and sit down.  It was fun, cute and all that…the kind of stuff you dream of before you have kids (…wish for after you have them too!)  J

They were getting along great and I wanted to run down and have dinner while Dayna headed off to the gym.

Within a short time they were bickering a bit, which usually results in them going to and from each other’s room, attempting to get in (or keep the other out) and eventually doors get involved.  I told them to settle down lest someone get hurt. 

Two minutes later I hear a ‘thunk’ and Maura is crying.  I run upstairs and she had scrapped against a door while taunting (or being taunted by) Brody and had cut her toe.  I carried her downstairs, did the necessary triage and pronounced her ‘all set.’ 

Brody has accompanied us downstairs and is playing with a nerf ball and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles plastic bow.  I ask him to stop lest someone get injured.

In true diva-like fashion Maura asked to be carried to the couch, as it hurt to walk, AND she ask for a pillow for her foot.  Apparently the wound was such that it required elevation!

I sit back down to chit-chat with the kids and finish my dinner.

THUNK!

CRYING!

‘What now?’

Yup, Brody had hit himself in the head with the bow!  (No academic scholarship coming there!)  He decided that he too needed to lie on the couch and that while elevation wasn’t required; his basketball shaped boo-boo ice would be a necessary part of his recovery.

So there you have it, two fully automated, self-disciplining children.

Ain’t life grand?

Brody is very inquisitive, just like every one else his age I suppose.

Tonight at dinner he had an odd chain of inquires that touched on many topics.

He started off asking about how old everyone was when we got married: My parents, Dayna’s Mom, Aunts and so on.  When he came to his ‘Papa Richard’ (Dayna’s Stepfather who recently passed away), he captured the demographic info needed then moved on to the afterlife.

So he said, "Papa Richard is a fairy now right?  He’s a fairy in heaven."  We corrected him that fairies reside mostly in the English countryside and that 'Angel’s' actually inhabit heaven. 

Once that was settled, he needed location.  He asked if heaven was higher or lower than space.  Thanks to comics, I want to come back with some comment on an alternative dimension occupying the same space as ours but vibrating at a different frequency (see Silver Age Flash comics) but we went with ‘where space ends.’

Okay, he’s got the proper verbiage and the location, he just needs transport.

Brody said that when he grew up, he was going to fly to heaven and visit Papa Richard.  It was very genuine, sincere and touching.

This is where I really appreciated how much he thinks things through.  He asked if you still had to wear the space suit when visiting heaven (like an astronaut on the moon) or could you take off your space suit/helmet upon arrival (so what he was asking was "does it have a Class M atmosphere similar to our earth’s?").  It’s silly, but when you think about it…he was really thinking about it.

Now, I don’t have Revelations chapter 21 or 2 Corinthians chapter 12 memorized, but I don’t ever recall references as to whether or not heaven is ‘pressurized.’  So to be safe, we said that as the first Necronaut (‘astronaut’ means ‘star sailor’ so this loosely translated would be an explorer of the afterlife) he should leave the suit on.

He then circled back to his original inquiry:  How old was he when we married?  Was he in Mommy’s tummy during the wedding?

Dayna, being a scientist thought about it, and said ‘No, not really.’  While the egg was there, he wasn’t. 

Of course, this begged the question from Brody…how do babies get inside Mommy’s tummies?  "Is it ‘magical’" he asked (see following post as to the new regular usage of this term in our home).

Dayna and I looked at each other and I suddenly had to get a second helping of Rice-a-Roni, abandoning my more-than-capable spouse with an inquisitive six year old.

Brody and Maura recently had doctor’s appointments with their pediatrician. 

Dr. Mohamed El Fouly, or Dr. Mo, is incredible.  After having been disappointed with other practitioners, I still remember coming home to Dayna just singing the praises of this man after our first visit years ago.

One of his little tricks to get kids to relax and reduce their anxiety is he touches an instrument and then lightly touches the child.  He makes some cute sounds, some flowery gestures but subconsciously the kids get that the stethoscope or blood pressure cuff is not too bad.

As Brody was having his physical, he kept giggling and squirming as Dr. Mo attempted to check his abdomen.  As a result, Dr. Mo went ‘old school’ and put his fingers on Brody and tapped his fingers; a diagnostic method not used as much (only for the highly ticklish I suspect).

Fast forward to last night: Maura was giving me a check up and when it came time to do the stethoscope I asked if she was going to do what Dr. Mo does.  She immediately did the touch the stethoscope, touch the person several times.  Then, she started the tapping move; she was paying attention because she did it quite well (she gave me a referral to a specialist).

I asked her ‘Why do you think Dr. Mo does that stuff?’ (referring to how he gets kids acclimated to the equipment).

She responded very matter-of-factly….’because he’s magical.’ 

I’m so proud…sniff

Brody asked if Santa could bring him his own Ozzy CD.

Brody and Maura continue to enjoy the karaoke machine.  (I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t admit to liking it as well). J

Brody continues to work on his stage presence.  He’s recently begun the fall down on your knees and then either huddle over the mic as if you’re starting a fire or arching his back as if aliens are attempting to tractor beam him to the mother ship.

Maura on the other hand is perfecting her background vocals and performance.  I’d say she’s very ‘Pip’-like in behavior.  She stands on a stool, does some sort of stationary, repetitive movement, and sings the background vocals.

You should see her on Bowling for Soup’s (that’s a band for all you squares out there) interpretation of ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’ originally recorded by Mrs. K-Fed.  Whenever the reprise (which is the title) is sung, she bend over, wags her finger and puts on her supernanny-naughty face.  It’s hilarious.

An additional favorite, so you don’t think we’re horrid parents allowing our kids to sing pop lyrics, Maura does an incredible job of singing along with ‘Baby Beluga.’

The other night I came home and asked the kids what they had done that day.  After a detailed summary of the days highlights Brody mentioned that they had gone to Target.

I innocently inquired as to the days purchases, not caring of course how much was spent, and Brody again said that they only bought a new hair dryer. 

Maura’s face immediately lit up and she took a deep breath.  ‘Daddy!  Mommy’s dryer is broken and it might set her hair on fire and then we’d be said because she’d be a bald Mommy and we done want Mommy to be sad and bald we want a happy hair Mommy.’

She said all this as if I needed convincing.  I hope she’s not as passionate or persuasive when she’s asking for a car someday.

Needless to say, two days have past; there have been no fires and to-date, we have a happy hair Mommy.

Don’t let the kid who just received blink-em-up shoes sit behind you.  Your back will suffer as they become acclimated to the amount of force needed to induce blinking.

A wasp appeared in the den today as I was working.  Obviously it needed to be killed, and quickly.  Alas, at my disposal were only items that would not protect me from a sting attempt while the victim was in it’s squish-throes or items too large that would break the window on impact. 

Thankfully, the NBA has me covered.  Brody is a member of the Nerf Blasters Association or NBA.   

To my right, Brody’s ‘blaster’ lay.  Now, it is a blaster, any similarity between this handheld device that propels projectiles and a gun are coincidental.  Remember, it’s not blasters that sticky-dart people, people sticky-dart people!   

So grabbed the blaster, loaded the dart containment cylinder (not a ‘cartridge’ or ‘clip’ – the semi-auto was too expensive for Santa) and cocked my weapon!  (not only cool to say, but a series of adult movies – Cocked Weapon 18: NRA – Stewardess Summer Camp was my personal fave) and Mr. Waspy made my day! 

He was elusive but my second stick-dart stunned him and the third stick-dart, well, let’s not talk about the hit he got. 

I will next be in the Midwest Pest Blaster quarter finals held in Winchester Kentucky, where my exoskeleton collection is certain to increase.

Last night we continued our retirement planning.  We pulled out the karaoke machine that Brody had received for Christmas (like most smart parents, if your child has too many gifts – something we aim to correct this year – you set some aside for the future).

How, you might ask, is a karaoke machine considered ‘retirement planning.’ 

Well, you see, Brody is determined to be a Rock Star.  We want to encourage that as Rock Stars make some major bling, fo’ shizzle and if you’ve ever read anything about Elvis, they love their parents.  So we gotsa support our shawty!  Word.

He wants to take electric guitar lessons the second he can (age seven according to the local instructors), though that hasn’t stopped him from practicing his ‘guitar poses’ with his current guitar toys.  I’d say he’s more Pete Townsend or Krist Novoselic (animated, hyper and somewhat spastic with a hint of violence) vs. say Joe Perry’s smooth and cool stage demeanor.

From a vocalist perspective, he certainly handles the microphone more like Steven Tyler or James Brown with a little Axl Rose (I’m so proud…sniff) thrown in. 

My favorites are his renditions of Queen’s ‘We Will Rock You’, MC Hammer’s ‘Can’t Touch This’ and C+C Music Factory’s Gonna Make You Sweat’. 

However, he does like too much of the echo feature, there is a lot of re-verb in his arrangements.  Guess I better get him some Kidz Bop Psychedelic Sing-a-Long or at least a Hendrix CD.

While he doesn’t always do it altruistically, I enjoy it when Brody is trying to explain something to Maura.  He acts all big brotherly and very worldly.  It’s cute.

Today, as we did some errands I put in my new Tom Petty album.  I expected some resistance as they prefer musicals, kid tunes or punk. 

To my surprise, and enjoyment, the kids liked Mr. Petty’s blend of Southern Rock.  His retrospective and melancholy lyrics, coupled with his power chords made for one righteous musical experience.

One song that Brody really liked, and asked repeatedly for it to be played repeatedly was called ‘Jack’.  A recurring lyric was ‘You say what you want to Jack, I’m going to get my baby back.’

Maura asked why someone took that guy’s baby.

Brody immediately hops in and explains to Maura that ‘cool guys’ call their girlfriends ‘baby’ or ‘babe’.  He further explains (seriously!) that sometimes ‘cool guys’ steal the girlfriends of other ‘cool guys’, so that this song was about this guy go after his girlfriend.

Okay, either he’s far more insightful than I realize or Dayna’s been watching 90210 reruns with the kids when I’m not around.

Yeah, I’m Dad of the year.  Dayna goes away for a short weekend and I get a sitter so I can go for a motorcycle ride.

I get lost out here rather easily and tonight was no exception. 

As I drive through these tiny towns with little population, I often wonder, ‘What do these people do for a living?’

Well, about that time I get a good whiff of manure and it tells me both what they do and why there ain’t too many of ‘em.

I’m often amazed at what children will become attached to.  Buy them a four hundred dollar play set and they’ll spend all their time using the box.

So it was that last night, Maura acquired a helium balloon while out to dinner.  Later that evening, while playing at the park, she found a single wood chip that was shaped like a pencil.

The two unnamed and not-found-anywhere-else items became her to best friends for the night. 

A stick and a balloon.  (I’m fairly certain that balloon only hung out with stick because of Maura however.)

Of course at bed time I had to read to all three and Maura insisted on sleeping with them.  I was not excited about that and anticipated that she’d pop the balloon and scare herself silly as soon as she fell asleep.

I left the room, did some laundry, and came back when she was out.  I lifted the blanket so Ms. Balloon went to the ceiling; however, I have to find Ms. Stick. 

She may just get woken up in the middle of the night yet!

In Marvel comics, they have a character called the ‘Watcher’.  He’s a giant, bald alien who lives on the moon; his sole purpose, as you might easily divine, is to merely observe…some might say, ‘watch’ and record events as they unfold in their assigned sector (in case you’re wondering, Earth’s watcher is named Uatu.)

Now, it’s hard for me to relate to a large, bald man who just stands around but yet….I feel a kinship.  There is nothing I enjoy more than people-watching and then pointing out, or at least noticing if Dayna isn’t there to annoy with my witty repartee, the juxtapositions, inconsistencies or hypocrisies of the behavior of others.

So, as Uatu Britton, of Space Sector 2118 (that’s actually a DC comics designation from Green Lantern comics), was playing with his children at the park, I observed an interesting exchange.  An older man was there with what I assume would be his grandson.  His grandson kept doing something contrary to what he was being asked and the grandfather gave him a little ‘thwok’ on the head.  I use ‘thwok’ because it’s a fun word to say and I feel, accurately describes the motion involved.  It was a get the kids attention, ‘Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!’ kind of ‘flick’, not a slap, and certainly not a swat, punch or the Five-Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique from Kill Bill Volume 2.  Nope, a flick.

NOTE: I don’t condone spanking or abuse, but a flick on the head to get a kids attention, especially if their inattentiveness might endager them, is okay in my book.

A woman, who had earlier introduced herself to us as the parent of a child that goes to the same pre-school as Maura, immediately goes up to the man and lets him have it.

‘You can’t do that!’

‘I could call child protective services!’

‘Did you know, that kind of abusive contact is illegal?’

‘Maybe in the old days when you were a kid, that was okay, but’s it the twenty-first century.’

‘That’s the city courthouse right behind you, I could go in there right now and get you in trouble.’

I’m not exaggerating one bit there.

The old guy, probably a WW2 vet thinking “I risked my butt in Europe or Japan so your commie-woodstock parents could give birth to some arrogant starbuck sippin’ self-righteous harpie” wasn’t having any of it.  He kindly but firmly stated he was well within his rights, that she was welcome to call whomever she wanted as he did nothing wrong and to please leave him alone, she was scaring his grandson.

And she was!  She was obviously main-lining espresso, she talked at a hundred miles an hour, and kept inching forward as if they were fencing and she was in a pre-parry position, and had these jerky body movements of special effects in a seventies movie.

It was a fun few minutes of entertainment, but Uatu Britton found one aspect of the ‘caring mother’ to be quite humours and definitely ironic.

The whole time we were there, her daughter, also three, kept going up to strangers or other kids and wanting to play with them.  She kept following me around as I played hide-and-seek and did the same to other parents playing with their kids.

Why you ask.

Because her Mom never once removed a cell phone from the side of her head.  I don’t think you get good parent points for taking your kid to a park if you don’t PLAY with them.  The kid was so starved for attention she was reaching out to anyone who’d give her the time of day at the park (I predict abusive relationships ahead for this young lady) yet her Mom thought she was ‘Parent of the year’ as she attaked Sargent Thwok (which rhymes with Rock and is only funny to the two of you who know who Sargent Rock is).

Uatu’s favorite part – “Super Mom” didn’t event stop talking on the phone while she was going after grandpa. 

We had the opportunity to have Ms. Rachel Erin Doree over for the evening as her parents went out (or home – wink, wink, nudge, nudge) to celebrate their anniversary.

One of Ms. Doree’s claims-to-fame is that she is the namesake of every stuffed animal or doll that Maura gets.

You give Maura a new Barbie, stuffed Hippopotamus, Wonder Woman, Hello Kitty or Stretch Armstrong and Maura will tell you that its name is ‘Rachel Erin’.

Here’s some photos of them having fun, being active and creative.  The highlight was making crafts and muffins for a tea party.

Dayna’s Father, Grandpa Larry, visited for the day.  He always brings them great stuffed animals and plays with them during his visit.  We had a great time playing in downtown Brighton and dining at the Yum Yum Tree.  The geese were yet again very aggressive and one bit Maura (her third goose bite in her short three year life span); I suspect that she will grow up to be a hunter as a result of these experiences.

Last night, Brody was explaining to Maura that Mommy had gone to visit her friend and would be back in a few days.

With that Maura tried to detail which one of Dayna’s friends, comparing on contrasting their friends with each other and Dayna.

Then Brody stops, looks at me, and with some concern says, ‘Daddy.  Do you have any friends?’

An astute observation on his part; though I have co-workers who I would call friends; I never socialize with them outside work, have them over, meet them with Dayna for dinner, get the kids together or talk about deeply personal ‘stuff’.    

Not certain as to why (whether a co-worker or someone I meet elsewhere in life); could be insecurity, lack of time or opportunity though I’ll go with sheer laziness and selfishness.  On those rare occasions that I do have time to myself, I’d just as soon be alone…a movie with no whispering, a diner with a newspaper, a ride in the car with Guns and Roses blaring out the open windows or getting lost in Durand (something I’ve turned into an art as of late) on a motorcycle.

There have been several published articles of late indicating that those with friends live longer than those without, regardless of the size or support from a close knit family.  I suspect that Brody, being a regular reader of Time, BusinessWeek and Psychology Today had seen those articles and was concerned for my longevity (or who would pay his college tuition).

So this I vow, as blog is my witness, that I’ll never go lonely again!* 

*(Starting when I’m 65; when I’m 65 I’ll do the friends thing.  I promise!)

Last week we took another family vacation and went ‘Up North’.  Dayna has been going every summer for several years now, visiting with a friend who owns a place there.  She always comes home raving about how great it is up there and that we have to take the kids.

This year, she ensured that we did.

We rented a great little cabin and enjoyed being somewhat (there was satellite tv, but they only had the basic package) unplugged from the world. 

Visiting there was such a juxtaposition from our family trip to Chicago four weeks prior: No lines; No traffic; Hundreds less spent on meals; Family activities that did not require seventy bucks in admission and space to just run, play and be a kid (for the kids too, not just me!).

I can now see why many Michigander’s purchase property up there and wouldn’t be surprised as the kids grow that we someday invest in a little summer cottage.  For now I fully anticipate that we’ll be back every summer.

Following are posts (in chronological/descending order) recapping the usual cute crap kids do.

Driving to Chicago is three and a half easy hours followed by two hours of stop-and-go traffic.  Last month we got to the city and could see the Sears tower in under 3.5 hours….2.5 hours later we arrived at our hotel?!

Driving ‘Up North’ (henceforth referenced by the abbreviation ‘UN’) was cake…well that is except for Midland.

I got turned around looking for a Buffalo Wild Wings.  As we drove off the exit Brody exclaimed, ‘Look!  A BK with a playplace!  I’ve never seen a BK with a playplace, let’s go there.’

Well, Dad saw a posting for Buffalo Wild Wings and began looking for that.  Well, I missed a turn, but felt confident if I went down this one street I’d find my way back.  NOT.  S’ok, I’ll just go down here and it’ll be fine.  Or Not!  No prob guys, I KNOW the highway is just on the other side of those trees.  Whoops!

After 60 minutes of exploring the greater Mid-Michigan region I asked for directions; ‘Excuse me, am I close to the highway?’  Their facial expression made it clear that I wasn’t within 20 miles of a highway.  Fortunately, they were headed that way and allowed us to follow them.

I was most apologetic to the family for the ‘detour’; Brody, having super empathetic powers, consoled me by saying ‘Told you we should have gone to BK.’

Later that day, as we were deep in the woods and nearing the cabin Maura asked ‘Are we there yet?’ I responded ‘Not yet.’ and without missing a beat she replies ‘Are you lost again Dad?’