August 13, 2005

How to impress a four year old

Simple, really. Don't act your age, put whatever stupid sense of self-regard/dignity to one side.

Just be the only father at the pool today to do a cannonball. Make a really big splash. Bask in the admiration of the Girl Child.

Pray she does not request a demonstration of the belly flop.

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August 08, 2005

Not doing myself any good with the Big Guy up there

I'm not saying I'm going to hell for this, but I am certainly not scoring any points with the Big Guy. The problem? I had a major Jimmy Buffet craving this weekend. I gorged on a couple of cd's and what, you may ask, what song did the Girl Child, supported by her brother, want to hear over and over again until she could sing along?

My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus

Hearing her sing along to this, if I don't die by Thursday I'll be roaring Friday night!, made me realize I would have some small explaining to do to our religious Mormon nanny. All she said, when I explained, was: "oh, my."

I'm not helping myself at all here, am I?

Oh, and do you know the song 1985? The Girl Child knows all the words to this one, as well. And she sings it with the 2.5 year old Boy Child. I could hear them one night when we were staying at my parents' house. It went something like this:

GC: She was gonna be an actress, she was gonna be a

BC: STAR!

GC: She was gonna shake her ass, on the hood of White Snake's

BC: CAR!

My wife and I just about fell over when we heard this little duet. Putting to one side the fact that we were not particularly pleased that the last nanny played this song enough for the Girl Child to learn, by the way. Not pleased in the slightest. Still, pretty darn funny.

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August 05, 2005

Parmi les Fauves*

I spent the morning at summer camp. It was the last day of the Girl Child's summer camp and they were putting on a little skit they had been working on in drama class. She was very excited and, despite the fact that it seems as if I have been out of the office more than I have been in the office, I decided to take the morning off and attend. After all, ten years from now I will not remember what I did in the office this Friday but I will remember attending her little skit in ten years.

It was charming. They were "going on a bear hunt" and acted out the whole little story. They put the Girl Child smack in the middle of the line of kids, I think because she's so tall, and she did just fine. Then they gave out t-shirts to the kids. The counselors all made t-shirts for each child and presented them with a few remarks about why each child received that particular shirt. The Girl Child was given the most creative camper award t-shirt, for all of her creative work in art class and because she loved doing the art projects so much. The expression on her face was priceless. She was so self-consciously pleased with her t-shirt.

And then we left them to their devices for the remainder of the camp day. But her counselors had nice things to say about her to me ("she's sooooo smart"; "she made so many friends"; "she was up for anything we did") and her drama teacher said that the Girl Child was fearless and enthusiastic and a big risk taker. All of this, of course, was music to my ears. Nice music, not industrial grunge, just to be clear.

Otherwise, we didn't even mind being outside for this as the temperature was already 87 degrees by 10:00 a.m.

It was a very sweet morning.

*Any takers for telling me what the title of this post is a reference to? Without using a search engine, of course. I bet a number of you erudite readers know what this is.

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July 20, 2005

And we were all changed

I went to a meeting last night at the private beach club I belong to out in Westchester. It shall remain without name here for a very good reason, as you will see.

The club is old, about 100 years, and filled with members who grew up there as kids and now are raising their kids there. I have described it before, I think, as idyllic. It is a special and wonderful place, by the water, where kids can be kids and where the older kids are actually nice to the little kids. The Girl Child is at camp there this summer and appears to be having a wonderful time. In short, the place feels like a protected throw back to a more innocent and happier time. I am often soothed just by being there. Seriously. I think it may be a combination of the light, the water, the breeze, and just something in the air. I really do love the place.

Last night, there was a special meeting. It transpired that a child, under the age of six, has alleged that she was assaulted on Sunday night at the club. Now, go back and re-read that sentence very carefully. An allegation was made of an assault.

I think that we all assumed that the assault was sexual in nature, although the police chief who addressed the meeting last night declined any opportunity to confirm that. In fact, and what I thought was particularly interesting, was that the police chief seemed to stress that while they were fully committed to the investigation, they still didnÂ’t necessarily know whether an assault had even been committed.

Kids lie. Little kids lie all the time. They may not mean to, but they do. Our pediatrician says that they simply donÂ’t know the difference between reality and their own thoughts. I donÂ’t envy the police chief his job in sorting out whether an assault actually took place. Either way, it will be a horrible task and everyone who comes into contact with the investigation will be changed in some way. IÂ’m just glad we werenÂ’t there on Sunday night.

I hope that no assault took place. I hope that this turns out to be a huge waste of time and that the child never experienced anything that will change her life. I hope this with a yearning so strong. I hope that if she did tell her story from reality, that the adult who assaulted her is caught swiftly and punished.

I sat in this meeting for over an hour. There was scant information proffered. There was a lot of parental anxiety in the room and some hostile questions for the board of the club and for the police chief. I think that by the end, everyone had calmed down a lot. Both the police and the board seem to be on top of things.

Still, for me at least, something died in that room. No matter how this investigation turns out, it will never be the same for anyone. For me, no longer will I be so quick to pick up a child who has fallen and is crying. I will no longer throw other peopleÂ’s children around in the kiddy pool when they ask me to after they see me sling my daughter around in the water. I wonÂ’t take that risk that an innocent touch, an innocent contact, can be misconstrued or misunderstood. That makes me very sad.

Another thing at the meeting. A woman made the suggestion that the police come and talk to the children at the club about, well, sexual predators. I would not want my child to be included in that discussion. SheÂ’s only 4.5 years old and would have way too many questions about things she doesnÂ’t have to know about. She doesnÂ’t have to take responsibility at her age for her own security. ThatÂ’s my job. ThatÂ’s why my wife and I do not let her or her brother out of our sight anywhere at any time. We may let them run ahead, but we can always see them. ThatÂ’s called parenting. When I asked the chief at the meeting what I should tell my daughter about this, since I thought she was too young to have a conversation about sexual predators, there was a small chorus of dissenting voices. ThatÂ’s fine. They can raise their children and I will raise mine. Right now, I choose that my daughter and my son stay innocent a little bit longer. Right now, my vigilance preserves their idyll. My daughter knows vaguely to be skeptical about strangers. More than that, sheÂ’s too young to have to deal with.

I wonder if everyone in the room looked around and wondered if that assault took place, was the assailant in the room with them?

In any event, given the age of the girl, odds are that I know her and her family. I kind of hope I donÂ’t. Either way, my thoughts are with them.

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July 18, 2005

The kids in the car

We were driving home on Saturday night, after going out for dinner with my parents and a cousin and my grant-aunt, all of whom had been visiting with my grandfather. The children were a little over tired and maybe not on their best behavior. The Girl Child and the Boy Child were squabbling a bit in the back seat. He'd reach over and touch her and she'd object, loudly, and then complain that he was touching her. Then she made a noise that the Boy Child imitated. That infuriated her. She demanded that the Boy Child stop copying her. So, I started to copy her, too. (I never claimed to be a grown up). Then, with all three of us making a huge cacophony, my wife yelled at us all in Norwegian and told us to be quiet. She then told us it was quiet time and the next one to talk would lose.

Silence reigned in the car.

And then a little voice in the backseat whispered: "Boy Child, snakk." [speak]

And he did, of course. And it was all my wife and I could do not to laugh.

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June 20, 2005

Some Girl Child Remarks

Two funny exchanges with the Girl Child this weekend:

1. The phone rings but stops ringing by the time I get to it to pick it up. The Girl Child looks at me and the phone and simply utters, grimly: "The buttheads".

Wonder where she picked that phrase up from *looking around innocently*.

2. At dinner last night with my father, the Girl Child runs off to play with her new best friend, another 4 year old girl. After a bit of running around, the Girl Child comes back with a serious expression and asks, "Mamma, what's my cell phone number?"

For the record, she doesn't have one.

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June 04, 2005

Seems profound to me

The Girl Child did not nap. Instead, she came downstairs and decided to color. That's fine. I kept her company. In the middle of her coloring, she looked up at me and pronounced:

Pappa, when I walk in my Summer it tastes like pear.

I decided that statement was profound and decided to probe no further into it than that.

I hope my Summer tastes like pear this year. And yours!

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The Girl Child cannot clarify

Overheard in the house:

Boy Child: Arrh-arrh.

Mamma: Girl Child, what does "arrh-arrh" mean?

Girl Child: I don't know, Mamma. Usually, I understand everything he says, but on this point, I am not clear.

It just seems like way too grownup a sentence structure. She's only 4.5.

And by the way, after that, just to preserve the exchange, we agreed that we were going to go to Costco and she said:

GC: If we're going to Costco, I'm going Commando*!

BC: Mando [nodding his head for emphasis and in approval]

These kids are clearly spending too much time together.

*I have told her that Commando means going out without underwear on. Just in case you were not aware of the expression.

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May 26, 2005

The Girl Child Commands

I'm home alone with the kids last night as my wife was stuck in traffic on I-95. I'm heating up some leftovers for myself for dinner and the kids are keeping me company. I have given them each a cookie, to their mutual delight. At some point, however, the cookies are gone, and this is what follows:

Boy Child: [Happily burbling along at great volume]

Girl Child: Silence!

Boy Child: [Continues to burble]

Girl Child: SILENCE!

Boy Child: [Abruptly ceases burbling and looks at her intently]

Girl Child: [Looks first at Boy Child to make sure he really is going to be quiet and then turns and addresses me] Pappa, we need more cookies!

Boy Child: [Looks at me and nods head while saying his little word for yes in tone of total agreement] Ah-ta.

More cookies were distributed. A happy and joyful noise returned to the kitchen table.

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May 23, 2005

The Girl Child adds to the list

My wife just wandered in late and I give her the recitation of the evening accomplishments and the Girl Child chimes in:

Me: The children have been bathed, teeth have been brushed, milk has been given . . .

GC: And noses have been picked!

Excellent addition. I note that the Girl Child refers to her nose, not mine.

Now, off to read a story.

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May 20, 2005

She just wants to direct

The Girl Child hopped out of bed last night to keep her mother and me company as we brushed our teeth. These little visits are usually quite welcome. One of the things the Girl Child likes to do during her time with us is to jump up into our bed and hang out for awhile until we're done. But she's a nice girl and she always asks:

GC: Mamma? Can I go opp i sengen din? [mixing Norwegian and English]

[long pause as Mamma's mouth is filled with tooth brush and tooth paste]

[GC appears to grow a bit impatient with not getting an answer but seems to know that Mamma is not going to respond with a full mouth]

GC: [Tone: Bright and cheerful] Just nod your head yes, Mamma!

Which my wife did as I hid my face so the Girl Child did not see me laugh.

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May 19, 2005

From the mouths of babes: lots of honesty

I have been having some crappy days at work so I decided to cure my bad mood by throwing myself into my children and playing and having fun and keeping the Girl Child (4+ years) up late so she could watch some baseball and hang out with me. Incidentally, it worked pretty darn well, too. Actually, the whole night was nice.

My wife was late so that meant I had both kids all to myself. I made dinner for my wife and me and ended up eating with just the kids. The Boy Child (2+ years), according to the nanny, did not eat at all today. Well, he ate just fine for me. Cut up pineapple (which he calls "anna", from ananas in Norwegian) and which he insisted on putting into his mouth himself with the fork, sliced mango (which he shared with his sister), over 1/2 of a huge grilled knockwurst, and quite a few spoonfuls of my very, very spicy black beans (after each spoonful he reached for his sippy cup and then kind of gasped "mor" or more). Tough kid.

The Boy Child was shipped off to bed and we came back downstairs to clean up the kitchen. The Girl Child had aftens, which is Norwegian for a snack you have after dinner -- she had a little bit of melted jarlsberg on bread with oregano on it, one of my wife's favorites. And then we went into the living room to watch baseball and hang out.

Kids, I think, have no conception of honesty/dishonesty. Up to a certain age, they don't seperate fantasy from reality -- it all blends together for them. But when they do talk truth, when they do speak honestly, unfettered by any social conventions or constraints, you get entertaining conversations like the following:

GC: Yum. I just farted.

Me: Why did you say yum?

GC: Because my farts smell yummy.

Me: Why do you think they smell yummy.

GC: Because my poop smells yummy. [pause] Well, my poop doesn't always smell yummy. Sometimes, my poop smells really, really bad [head nodding hard for emphasis and said in a very earnest tone].

See what I mean? Still, so young and already so wise.

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May 16, 2005

The Girl Child requests clarification

No time today to give the full update on the D.C. trip (it is now 2:15 and I have been flat out running since 8:30) but I did want to quickly memorialize the conversation I had last evening with the Girl Child (remember, only 4 years old) as we were preparing to go out for an after dinner family walk:

GC: Pappa, are you ready to go?

Me: Not quite. Just give me a second to check the score on the Yankees game.

GC: What, are you going to sit there all night?

Me: Yes. Exactly. I am going to sit here all night.

GC: Mamma! Is that [short pause] appropriate for Pappa to sit there all night?

Her mother opined that it wasn't and I was summarily evicted from the living room. On the plus side, it was a beautiful night for a walk.

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May 10, 2005

The Girl Child contemplates the pool

The Girl Child and I were standing at her grandparents' pool, looking at it, after we agreed to go swimming. Concerned by the possibility that the water was chilly, we were standing there, waiting for the other one to go first, to take the first toe step, then knee step, then tushie step until you hit the tummy step. She was wearing her little water wings and waiting to get in so I could throw her, and I mean throw her, in the air. While waiting, we had the following conversation:

Me: Do you want me to go get you the inflatible ring?

GC: The ring? That, I could do without.

She's been spending too much time with my father.

And while I remember, the Boy Child graced us with what might just pass for a sentence:

Opp, go, bil [yes, mostly he speaks Norwegian]

Thus telling my wife that he wanted to be picked up and he wanted to go out for a ride in the car. It appears he may be putting the whole language thing together. Which is nice.

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May 04, 2005

Nothing is easy when you're four

I've never really thought that my daughter was given to melodrama, but last night we had the following conversation after I put her to bed, late, and after I had read her three, long stories.

GC: Pappa, nothing in my life is going right!

Me: [actually a little alarmed to hear a 4 year old say that] Why do you say that, Peanut?

GC: Because I never get to have 4 stories!

Oh, the humanity!

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April 21, 2005

What's your next point, counselor?

The Girl Child, New York's newest lawyer, and I today on whether she was going to take a nap:

GC: Pappa, are you going to take a nap today?

Me: No, but you are.

GC: Why aren't you going to take a nap?

Me: Well, I just got back from the dentist and now I have to run some errands.

GC: If you're not taking a nap, then I'm not taking a nap.

Me: Oh, yes, you are.

GC: No. I do everything you do.

Me: No, you don't. First of all, I pee standing up. You don't pee standing up.

[long pause]

GC: What's second of all?

I was so proud of her just ignoring a point she couldn't refute and trying to move right along to the next point that I just took her with me on my errands. So, in the end, I guess she was right. No nap.

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April 18, 2005

Don't judge me for this one, but. . .

The Girl Child slides over to me and whispers:

Guess what song I'm humming.

Me: I have no idea.

GC: I'll give you a clue.

Me: Ok. What kind of clue?

GC: I'll sing it [still whispering]. "Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap, dirty deeds, done dirt cheap."

Four year olds have minds like sponges. I feel a little guilty for, at some point, filling her little sponge with AC/DC.

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April 08, 2005

Parent/Teacher Conference

We had the Girl Child's parent/teacher conference last night. It was, not unexpectedly, a love fest. They had only wonderful things to say about her: clearly very bright; very sweet; highly mature; listens well; nice to others; plays well with everyone; attentive to instructions; and just a joy and a pleasure to have around. They said that if everyone in the class were like her it would be a much easier job.

They told us nothing we didn't already know, of course, but I could still sit for hours and listen to people say nice things about my daughter.

Oh, and they were all totally charmed by the way the Boy Child came into class with the Girl Child every morning and waited to leave until after he and she gave each other hugs and kisses.

There are days I feel so lucky that I am simply waiting for the other shoe to drop.

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The Boy Child is fine, thank you

Since you all asked so nicely and sent such good wishes, I feel compelled to let you know that the Boy Child is just fine. Perhaps it was just a touch of stomach flu, no way to know really. But he's fine and happy and beautiful as ever.

Thanks for all the well wishing!

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April 07, 2005

Some Girl Child conversations

She was on a roll, last night.

First, the nanny and I were talking and the Girl Child came over and inserted herself into the conversation with this comment:

GC: Nanny is going to have a baby.

N: I am?

GC: Yeah, with her boyfriend.

N: Well, maybe someday, but not now.

Me: Besides, doesn't her boyfriend get a vote in that?

N: Yeah, daddies are very important, you know.

GC: No. They don't get to make decisions. The only ones who make decisions are Presidents and Mammas.

We both laughed but it occurred to me that it was not entirely inaccurate and moreover the President has to act, in some things at least, with the advice and consent of the Senate. The same thing is not really true for the Mamma who rarely acts with the advice and consent of the Pappa.

Then, later last night, I was putting the Girl Child in her bed and we had the following exchange:

GC: I hope that spider doesn't come back out from under my bed.

Me: If he does, don't worry, I'll eat him.

GC: Yuck!

Me: No, they're pretty good if you grill them.

GC: Pappa, you eat the yuckiest things!!!

Me: No, I don't.

GC: Yes, you do. People don't eat bugs. Frogs eat bugs. People eat food. And dessert. And snacks. And lunch and that's it.

There you have it, the four major food groups: Food; Dessert; Snacks; and Lunch.

No word on the spider.

As for the Boy Child last night, it was vomit city. All over his bed, my wife, the stairs, and his pyjamas. It was a long night.

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