My kids have become infatuated with Michael Jackson’s Earth Song. Holly and I have burned songs to disk for them prior to this, but the rate at which they are replaying this one is just ridiculous.
Dad grows weary.
Archive for the 'kids' Category
Weary of Earth Song
April 5, 2008When Opposing Teams Pray
January 20, 2008
Hard to say if Aaron is looking for celestial intervention, but his opponent clearly has his hands clasped together. If one is praying for the ball to drop, the other is not.
Being omnipotent has to be a tough job.
I posted a few more pictures of Aaron playing basketball earlier today.
Kennedy’s Letter to Santa
December 14, 2007
- Inline skates
- A good book (any book)
- My family
- A whole packet of those gang animals
- Some Adidas sneakers
- A kiss from Mom and Dad
- No Fights
- Love (insert heart here)
- An iPod Nano (“but I wanted You Tube”)
- Some division flash cards
The BFG
November 13, 2007
Whenever I hear BFG, I think BFG 9000 from the old video game Doom, which featured an epic battle with monsters from hell by a futuristic space-marine.
In context of the game, I’m pretty sure BFG is an acronym for Big Fucking Gun. This is just how military people talk. For example, in the torpedo room of the boat where I served, any hammer over 10 ounces was known as a BFH. In the military, people extended this naming metaphor to just about everything, including large chicken breasts in the mess line (gimme dat BFB, son).
So I was surprised when Kennedy asked me to read The BFG.
I hadn’t even known about the Roald Dahl book until she suggested I read it. For Dahl, BFG stands for Big Friendly Giant. Over the summer Kennedy read it herself. Most every morning, I find her awake in her bedroom, reading something. If it’s not Dahl, it’s a Nancy Drew mystery or something from the Warriors series (think: Lord of the Rings with cats). Although she had already read The BFG, she checked it out of the library, just because it was familiar and an old favorite. When she found out I hadn’t read it, she insisted I take it on. Now when I tickle-attack her, I claim I am the BFD (Big Friendly Dad) and she squeals with delight.
It’s great having nine year olds that love to read (Aaron’s into Calvin and Hobbs and Garfield). But how much longer can it be before Dad and even tickle-attacks fall out of favor? How much longer before my kids won’t bring home anymore library books for me to read?
Will BFD ever come to mean something entirely different to the kids? As long as it’s not Big Fat Dad, I won’t complain.
Murder She Spoke
October 27, 2007Alice Sebold is on tour for her new book, and last night Kennedy and I went to see her.
I read somewhere that writers have responsibilities that go beyond writing, namely buying books and attending readings. Because I feel guilty buying so many books, this idea is immensely satisfying for me. It’s not just another book to pile in stacks on the floor, it’s an investment in my career. Readings are something else altogether. I never feel guilty about going to readings. Instead I feel uncomfortable, especially in the little receiving line to get my book signed. Even though I know Alice, last night was no different.
Alice remembered me, which was nice. I presented Kennedy, but this seemed to baffle Alice. One of the guys I work seemed shocked when he heard I was taking my daughter to the reading. And I’ll admit I wondered if it was the right thing to do myself. Alice’s big theme is violence to women, and her new book even features a matricide. But Kennedy got so excited about our date after I first suggested it, I didn’t have the heart to leave her at home. Lucky for me Alice picked something to read that didn’t require any explaining.
So another reading under my belt. Alice looks pretty much like I remember her, except a little bit older.
Speaking of writer responsibilities, last week I submitted my story, The Solution to All My Problems, to Tin House, primarily because their Spring issue is themed “Off the Grid,” by which they mean “stories about people that function out of the bounds of “normal” society.” It probably behooves me to do more research on journals, but the deadline for submissions was fast approaching, so I just made sure they publish non-fiction and sent it out.
Daddy’s Little Girl
September 19, 2007
Not sure why, but Kennedy seems to love to humiliate me in front of other females. Earlier this week after soccer practice, I was talking to one of the other moms as we walked to our cars. Kennedy ran up to us and chirped, “Do you want to marry my daddy?”
I cringed. The other mom took it all in stride, pointing out that she was already married. I tried to appear amused, but this wasn’t the first time this had happened.
Last month after theater practice our whole family was headed toward the car. I dawdled about half a block behind, chatting with one of the other kids from the play. Kennedy came racing back down the block, stiff-armed with her chin jutting out. The girl beside me was only 13, but Kennedy laid into her.
“You’re not married to him,” she scolded.
The poor kid didn’t know what to say. Neither did I. Kennedy felt no such compunction.
“You stay away from my daddy,” she said, throwing her arms around my waist.
Wasn’t really sure what to make of that then, not sure now. Kennedy never scolds me, just the hapless females who speak to me. Nor does she yell at her mother for speaking to men.
I guess she’s just daddy’s little girl.
Steps To Be Like Kennedy
August 16, 2007
Three simple steps to be like Kennedy:
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Try to do everything perfectly with minimum input from adults, and then when things go less than perfectly (as we all know they must), you must ball your hands into fists, stalk stiff armed into the next room, and wail like a banshee.
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At four years old, you lie in bed scowling and miserable, and because your opinions about the world and yourself are formed primarily by the board books you read and the cartoons you watch, when your Daddy asks you how you feel, you tearfully answer, “I feel like a burglar, Daddy.“
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On daycare drop offs, your brother may cry but you do not; instead you walk away from your parents with hardly a glance back, seeking out and immediately charming one of your adult teachers, making sure your needs are always met.
Kennedy Is From Venus, Aaron Is From Mars
May 12, 2007
Kennedy has a much different approach to athletics than Aaron does. Here she is on the right, chatting up her defender in last night’s basketball game.
Aaron is a serious competitor. He plays so many sports our family tends to follow him around in the evenings, all throughout the year. Kennedy feels (understandably) slighted. Becoming involved in the local youth theater has helped, but this year Kennedy decided to try girl’s basketball. At her game last night I was thinking about how different she is from her brother.
Where Aaron is out to crush his opponents, Kennedy always tries to make friends with hers. At the break, Kennedy told Holly that this little girl had been a fish in the latest Youth Theater production, Thumbalina. Gushing with delight, Kennedy pointed out that she and her new friend were wearing the same number.
Crushing Third Graders
April 21, 2007“I can’t sit with Zach, Daddy,” Kennedy says matter-of-factly.
I just agreed to take Zach across town to the Little League game at his mother’s request, so she could run an errand. He is on the same team as Aaron and all of them (Aaron, Kennedy, and Zach) are in the same third grade class. Having just finished our own early morning errand, the kids and I had stopped for a quick lunch at Quiznos before the game. Zach and Aaron immediately grabbed one of the tiny Quiznos tables. Zach’s parents sat at another table and Kennedy and I shared our own.
Leaning in conspiratorially, Kennedy whispers, “Zach loves me.”
“Really,” I say, raising my eyebrows.
Easter Eggs
April 8, 2007
