The Boy Child has a cold. Things leaking from his nose all over the place. The Girl Child is a little hoarse. I woke up at 12:30 this morning with a huge sneeze that, much like a trumpet, heralded the arrival of full congestion. Yuck.

Thank goodness for Sudafed. I am just starting to feel human again. As human as any lawyer feels, that is.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:36 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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We escaped this weekend. We bundled the children into the car and escaped with them to that well known tourist destination: New Haven, CT. Ok, it actually was a lot nicer than I had expected. There were loads of beautiful buildings and nicely groomed streets.

We started off at Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana, making pizza in New Haven since 1925 in coal fired brick ovens. The pies came out on superbly crisp crusts. The kids and the Viking Bride split one pizza while I had my own small one with anchovies, sausage, cheese and mushrooms. The kids bravely tried the anchovies but did not care for them. The pizza was worth a trip all by itself. Really. Pepe's is most famous for the white clam pizza, which I will certainly try next time. Here's a review of the place, if you are interested.

Apres lunch, we got back in the car and headed over to the Peabody Museum of Natural History to check out the dinosaurs. There were plenty of fossils to excite interest. One of the guidebooks said that the musuem had a collection of shrunken heads which sparked a nice little discussion in the car about cannibals. The kids were interested in cooking methods, among other things.

The museum was quite lovely and we went ahead and joined, especially since we found out that we could then sign up for sleepovers with the dinosaurs, which I think that the children would adore doing. I would, of course, hate it, but would force myself to go. Ahem. Small museums, while lacking the resources and world beating curatorial staffs, are almost always worth a visit and have quite a lot of charm on their own.

All in all, a successful Sunday outing.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:57 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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There are certain statements out there that you hear again and again, so often that they sort of take on the status of truth. You never examine them for veracity, they just linger in the brush growth section of your mind and form part of the framework of your beliefs. For instance, fish is good for you. Or, racism is not ingrained but rather learned at home from the parents. I believed both of these things. Until now.

I no longer believe racism is learned at home and is not ingrained. That is too damn simple. My new theory is that racism springs from a childÂ’s dislike of looking or being different. At some very early point, kids donÂ’t like the idea of standing out. They donÂ’t like different. If something looks different or is outside of their little group norm-think, they have a tendency to shun it. ThatÂ’s my root cause explanation for why the Girl Child told me that she did not want to engage a particular baby sitter because that baby sitter was dark skinned. To be clear, there is no possible way that my children picked up negative attitudes about darker skinned people from me or my wife. We donÂ’t have them (as far as I know), we donÂ’t talk about attitudes like that, and we do our level best not to judge on appearance. We are particularly careful about what messages we transmit, overtly or quietly, to our children.

I took my little peanut aside after she confessed this and I told her that it was wrong for her to dislike the baby sitter because of the color of her skin. I told her that she didn’t even know the baby sitter and it was unacceptable for her to dislike her without knowing her. I told her that there were plenty of people in the world who I disliked but I disliked them for reasons wholly unrelated to their appearance and she too was allowed to dislike people, just not because of they way they looked. I reminder her of how unhappy she was when someone in her class called her the grinch because she did not celebrate Christmas and I told her that the situation there was identical to the situation here – someone judged her for reasons having nothing to do with who she was as a person. I then reminded her of an old exercise she did in her last pre-school where she made a list of all the things about her that people could not tell about her just by looking at her (which I blogged about in January 2005). I told her that the point of that was just to look below the surface and not judge based on the appearance. It is completely ok to judge other people, I told her, but it has to be done on a valid basis and the color of another’s skin is not a valid basis.

She seemed to take it all in. She also assured me that no one had been telling her that darker skinned people were bad. I wanted to rule out comments from classmates.

My wife and I were mystified by this turn of events and what could have given rise to it. So, I am sure it is just because of her becoming more and more aware of the world around her.

I didnÂ’t tell her, to my wifeÂ’s relief, that the world is primarily populated by ass-hats and color is simply not a good predictor of another personÂ’s ass-hat level. Politics, on the other hand. . .

By the way, I still basically think fish is good for you, all that shite about mercury to one side. Although, I do note that with all the fish I have eaten, I am better at predicting the ambient room temperature. So maybe it is the mercury.

Seriously, I hope I handled that one ok. I never saw it coming.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:42 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 Yes it's a great shock when you realize that a child's environment isn't nearly as important as we were taught in class, isn't it? I still remember being completely shocked when my little girl wanted to act, well...like a little girl. I was so careful about making sure all things were equal when it came to gender issues. Really, I was quite the militant feminist back then, at least compared to how I am now. I didn't want any gender prejudices to affect her in any way. And when the boy came along, same thing; I was shocked to discover that despite being so very careful about anything violent never reaching him, I had full care of him, he was not allowed to watch TV unless I supervised and trust me, it was only Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers, both kids were extremely protected at all times and yet, they both still made all kinds of decisions that simply shocked me. The girl wanted to dress up and play with dolls and have a play-kitchen set and the boy was rough and tumble and had a penchant for bopping other toddlers in the head with a toy if he felt provoked. I finally caved in and gave up on my cherished idea that a child raised in a certain way will behave that way because they wouldn't know anything different, right? Wrong. There is instinct, genetics, and tribal-behavior. It's not just environment, this idea we were taught (well, I was taught but college was a long time ago, perhaps it's different today) that babies were mostly soft clay waiting to be molded is *wrong*. Environment simply does not have the kind of impact we were taught it has. I've seen kids from horrible family situations grow up to be calm, decent, wonderful human beings and I've watched kids grow up in a family filled with love and nothing but opportunity into mean-spirited little monsters. I think we parents are scared to death of this idea because it takes away what we think is absolute control over our child's destiny. But that is a lie; we do not have that kind of control, we never did. We are merely caretakers until they are grown. We do the best we can but they are still individuals with their own unique way of looking at the world. This is why kids can be so damn cruel growing up. And some kids never outgrow that. I like to tell myself that my two grown "kids" are good people because their dad and I raised them so well but although that is part of it, it's also simply luck of the draw. They came pre-programmed to a certain extent; probably because genetically their dad and I are that way and most of their ancestors are as well. Most of us are nice people with good work ethics who try to do the right thing by our fellow man. Though not all, not by a long shot. Quite a few bad apples here and there in our combined family trees. And that's why genetics scares the hell out of people; we'd much MUCH rather say that it's all due to environment. What parent wants to believe that sometimes despite your best efforts, there is nothing you can do in some cases? Nobody wants to believe that. Anyway, sorry to ramble. Sounds like you did the DadJob perfectly, Random. As always. And don't worry; your little ones sound awesome. Good genes, I'd say. *grins*

Posted by: Amber at January 30, 2007 02:11 PM (zQE5D)

2 I think the best thing is that you told her it's ok to dislike someone. No, really, I think that's a great thing. I'm sick of all this "you gotta love everyone" BS because it's just not possible. There are people in this world I can't stand and nothing is going to make me like them. Nothing. Therefore, I think telling GC that she doesn't have to like everyone is a good thing. However, like you said, not liking them because of their skin color isn't a good reason.

Posted by: Howard at January 31, 2007 03:29 PM (u2JaN)

3 You handled it, as always, with grace and aplomb. I'm in total agreement with Howard, too, for the record.

Posted by: Margi at February 03, 2007 11:49 PM (4b9SY)

4 Excellent job, RP. And get used to being blindsided. This is just the beginning of of lifetime of 'not seeing that coming.' My son came home from day school many years ago when he was in JK and announced that he "wasn't going to play with Jason." When I asked him why I was totally floored when he replied,"because he has a black face." Well no, he didn't...he was the product of a marriage between a lovely Japanese mother and a Jewish father, but that wasn't the point. I remember thinking - where is this coming from? We certainly haven't taught him to think this way. And we finally had to come to the conclusion that he'd decided all by himself that this boy's face made him feel uncomfortable because it was different from his own or any that he saw on a regular basis. Of course, within a month they became 'best' friends, because four year olds are like that. And I think six year olds are, too once they get over their initial shock that their comfort zone has been challenged.

Posted by: Jocelyn at February 04, 2007 01:34 AM (bwFKZ)

5 Songs re hatred: So interesting. I guess it gives the lie to the South Pacific song: You've Got to be Taught: You've got to be taught To hate and fear, You've got to be taught From year to year, It's got to be drummed In your dear little ear You've got to be carefully taught. You've got to be taught to be afraid Of people whose eyes are oddly made, And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade, You've got to be carefully taught. You've got to be taught before it's too late, Before you are six or seven or eight, To hate all the people your relatives hate, You've got to be carefully taught! ======================= Instead, I believe with you that you have to be taught to be tolerant, all the old saws about judging a book by its cover. There's a song written for children, shortly after WW II by Hy Zaret who died this week at the age of 99. As I remember it goes like this: You can get good milk from a brown-skin cow, The color of its skin doesn't matter nohow. Ha ha ho, can't you see The color of her skin doesn't matter to me! ===================== This type of song plus stories in the same vein would seem to be necessary to raise open-hearted children.

Posted by: Fortunella at August 05, 2007 07:00 PM (utg0X)

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Posted by: tzhl ayufwng at June 13, 2008 06:14 AM (eqXe7)

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Especially when demonstrated by your six year old daughter. The Girl Child, not even 100 days into her kindergarten experience, attended shabbat celebrations with us at the Boy Child's preschool, where we were the shabbat family for his class. The celebration was all very nice, of course. The highlight, and all I may ever remember from this, was the Girl Child, sitting in front of the Boy Child's class of 15 children, reading a story to his classmates. She sat there and read to them. I swelled with pride and I risk becoming a bore as I share this with everyone I know.

Literacy. Catch it.

Did I mention how proud I was?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:08 PM | Comments (52) | Add Comment
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The Viking Bride engaged in 40 minutes of intense cardio activity yesterday morning. Afterwards, she got on the floor to stretch. The Boy Child, the early riser, got up and wandered downstairs to the playroom/gym and announced a desire to cuddle with her on the floor. After a brief cuddle, he got up, looked down at his mother, and proclaimed:

You are so stinky. I hope you don't go to work with that stinky on; if you do, they are going to send you right home saying that you are so stinky.

And then he left her alone on the floor, just her and her stinky.

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Death, that is. The children are interested in death and have been for some time. The topic comes up regularly. Sunday night, it came up again with the following:

Girl Child: Boy Child, you are going to die, you know.

Boy Child: [swallows and asks solemnly] When?

Me: Not for a long time. My plan is that you will have a long and happy life. And then, one day, you will get married and your life will seem much longer still.

[Murderous glare from Viking Bride]

Me: There, you see? It is already feeling longer.

One day I will learn to leave well enough alone. I promise.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:16 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 LOL! You've already used up the credit from the cake?

Posted by: Hannah at January 16, 2007 01:11 PM (5w+E2)

2 Heh... I definitely see another cake required in the near future.

Posted by: Oorgo at January 16, 2007 01:21 PM (ZUQGo)

3 ha. I had such a cake today. It was a colleague's birthday. Such a cake should be good enough for at least 2 such conversations!

Posted by: caltechgirl at January 16, 2007 03:38 PM (/vgMZ)

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The poor little guy cried from 10:51 until after 12:20 last night until he finally fell back asleep. He is bunking in with us in our room while my sister in law has claimed his room, formerly the guest room. We let him cry himself to sleep after he demonstrated an unwillingness to be terribly soothed. I kind of insisted on that over my wife's objections. I think it was for the best.

But the thing is, you see, I am so tired that, among other things, I even left my tie at home when I left for work this morning. Good think Brooks Bros. is still running their big sale.

This is not a good week to be tired. I have a dinner and committee meeting tonight -- first of the year, first with a new committee class, gotta set the right tone as chairman and have to drive the agenda. Tomorrow, a board meeting at which I will be front and center on a critical governance issue in order to resolve a sticky IRS tax situation that the organization is faced with. And then on Thursday, I am the MC at a dinner for 125 people. Sometime in there, I have professional responsibilities and a couple of other things to do.

Please let the baby sleep tonight. If not, shoot me now, please.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:00 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 Ohh, I totally sympathize. Fortunately for ME, thus far, Babylove has sensed complete exhaustion/nervous breakdown on my part and has given me a chance to catch some sleep when I need it most. Hope your little guy does the same for you. ) xoxo

Posted by: Just Me at January 10, 2007 02:23 PM (7dCZy)

2 Well, if yer so busy then why are you the one trying to soothe the baby? Babies don't make decisions. They cry for a reason. If cuddling him doesn't stop the crying then he requires something other than cuddling. Food? Nah, he just ate a little while ago. Potty? Nah, he's dry. Lonliness? Nah, he's being held by a stressed out daddio with twelve-and-a-half other things on his mind. Oh, wait... That's when Daddy yells: "Mo-o-o-o-o-m...!!!"

Posted by: Tuning Spork at January 13, 2007 12:24 AM (H6d1A)

3 He's still reading the Times, I see. Hope things are looking up now.

Posted by: Linda at January 13, 2007 11:35 PM (4gch1)

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It was held on Saturday, although her birthday is not for a couple of days yet. She had a wonderful time, bothered only by the fact that so many of the parents decided to linger for the duration of the party and chat. She complained bitterly to her mother that it was supposed to have been a drop off party. Still, she got over it. We had it at a local gym, just her, her brother, and 25 of her best friends. Guess which parent was the only parent running around with the kids during the party? That'd be me.

After the party, our college roommate and his wife and two kids and another couple and their kids came back to the house. It was 70+ degrees. We sat on the deck, worked our way through three bottles of wine, and watched the kids all play beautifully together. It was sublime; an early taste of summer. I realized that there is almost nothing that I find more relaxing than hanging out with friends, in the open air, with wine, while hearing as a background noise the cries of happy children at play.

Saturday was really quite perfect. Like nothing could go wrong. Even including, for me, having eaten enormous amounts of pizza and two pieces of birthday cake and still having gone down a pound the next morning. I believe my wife may hate me.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:25 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 your wife? Heck, I hate you :-) Glad you all had a lovely time.

Posted by: caltechgirl at January 08, 2007 05:40 PM (/vgMZ)

2 Pretty much anything can be sublime with a couple bottles of wine...

Posted by: grammarqueen at January 09, 2007 12:38 PM (Phwij)

3 I'm with CTG. *snort* Actually, I am green with envy for several reasons when I read this post (again) -- not the least of which the fact that the El Nino that is treating YOU to such lovely weather has ensured we shall be in the deep freeze (lows of EIGHT DEGREES) until spring. This Desert Flower is NOT loving the Pacific Northwest at present. So if you get a chance, bottle up a sample of 70 degrees? I forget what that feels like. Heh.

Posted by: Just Me at January 10, 2007 02:25 PM (7dCZy)

4 Even including, for me, having eaten enormous amounts of pizza and two pieces of birthday cake and still having gone down a pound the next morning. Musta been cuzza all that running around with the kids.

Posted by: Tuning Spork at January 13, 2007 12:47 AM (H6d1A)

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You all may recall that the Boy Child recently cut his face, next to his left eye, and required the services of a plastic surgeon. The doctor put a bandage on the boy's face and told us that he should be as immobile as possible over a five day span which fell over the New Year holiday. He was kept as immobile as one can keep a not quite four year old active boy. He was pinned to the couch by a steady diet of television, something he rarely gets to watch.

The Viking Bride had him back at the plastic surgeon yesterday and the bandage was removed. The plastic surgeon's reaction: "Damn, I do good work". We felt that was positive. It appears that the cut has healed beautifully and may not even leave a scar. That would be nice. The Boy Child looks like an angel and I was not really ready to see his perfect little visage marked, yet. Although, maybe, a scar would make him less pretty. Either way, it is still a big relief.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:30 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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I mean it, a manual would be good. Something I could consult in times of stress or difficulty. Or maybe I just take everything way too seriously. But, just the same, there I was last night, just me and the Girl Child and she told me about a problem she was having in school. I knew that there was a problem and I knew that getting her to tell me about it would be difficult, not because we don't talk but because asking a not quite six year old to figure out what was upsetting them was maybe a lot to ask.

I had received some clues. Recently she asked me for her own cell phone because "sometimes school isn't fun" and she wanted to be able to call home and tell people it wasn't fun. If that isn't a major clue that our happy-to-go-to-school child was not happy. . .

It boiled down to this -- her now former best friend doesn't like her anymore and says mean things to her when she is not otherwise ignoring her. For instance, when the former best friend questioned her about Christmas, and the Girl Child said she doesn't celebrate Christmas, the other girl called her a grinch.

I wish you could have seen the Girl Child as she struggled to explain all this to me last night -- sitting at the kitchen table; hair glistening wet from the bath; nibbling daintily on her snack; and an expression of hurt and confusion (confusion because she didn't understand what was going on). I knew that this was going to happen to her one day, that one day another girl would turn on her and attack her. She is basically a straightforward child and not used to this mode of relations. I didnÂ’t want to tell her that it was because girls often do mean things to each other while boys donÂ’t, at that age.

Instead, I struggled. What, I thought, was the right thing to say to her? How to guide her? My first reaction was that she had triggered all of my protective instincts and I wanted to defend my little cub. But, here's the thing -- it isn't about me, I decided. It was about her.

So, I told her, after reflection, that I had three suggestions. And after explaining to her what a suggestion was, since she asked, I gave them to her.

1. Speak to her. Tell her that you don't understand what's going on and ask her if she wants to talk about it, discuss it, and see if the problem can't be solved. Then, if it cannot, be solved, go to No. 2.

2. Never let the other side see you are upset. Pretend, on your part, that the other girl herself does not exist. If they are trying to be hurtful, then don't let them. In some ways, I told her, you can only be hurt if you give someone else permission.

3. Don't let insults or attacks go unaddressed. I told her, "Nobody plays for free". She says something to you that you perceive is an insult, you reply, "You. Are. An. Idiot. And I don't talk to idiots". Then walk away. I explained to her that just as she is supposed to stick up for her brothers, that she has to stick up for and protect herself. I told her that sometimes it was not a nice world and that if she wanted not to be picked on, she had to stand up for herself.

She said she understood it. I hope so. I do hope that she figures this out a bit.

I tried as best I could to distill all the wisdom I possess on these points down to small, easily understandable nuggets for her. I suspect we will have that conversation again. My wife thought I might have been a bit too heavy for a not quite six year old. I donÂ’t know. Do you think that I handled that correctly?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:20 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 I think you handled it beautifully. Absolutely beautifully. I would have loved for someone to sit down and explain it to me at that age, instead of assuming I was too young to understand. Even if she doesn't understand all of it, you've set her on the right path - to solving it, to learning to come to you with her problems to discuss them and to growing up. Nice job. I hope I end up being as good a parent as I perceive you to be from your blog.

Posted by: Hannah at December 12, 2006 12:20 PM (5w+E2)

2 A little heavy, yeah, but I think it was important for you to tell her those things. You've given her a reason to trust you with her problems and a reason to stand up for herself. Little girls can be so mean. I'm glad I'm not that age any more.

Posted by: caltechgirl at December 12, 2006 12:32 PM (/vgMZ)

3 I explained to her that just as she is supposed to stick up for her brothers, that she has to stick up for and protect herself. This is the stuff of rock solid father/daughter relationships. And this is also the reason your daughter is going to grow up to conquer the world - on her own terms - before you can blink an eye. Well done, my friend.

Posted by: Jennifer at December 12, 2006 12:51 PM (jl9h0)

4 I think you did great. I don't think you were too heavy at all---this stuff starts at the Girl Child's age and if you don't learn to stick up for yourself, it just gets worse. Trust me on this one--I know. I was heckled and picked on until I was a senior in high school. This was mainly because I was taught to turn the other cheek and just ignore them. Which is very Christian and all, but it sure did set me up to be an easy target. The only thing that got my classmates to stop was me flying off the handle and slapping and kicking, and scoring the flesh of someone for an insult that was the proverbial straw on my back. I couldn't take it anymore and the bitch got what she deserved. There wasn't any punishment, either. Completely got away with it---mainly because the teachers refused to believe I'd do such a thing. I didn't have to deal with it after that. Girls can be, and often are, the worst. But once they realize you're no pushover, they'll leave you be.

Posted by: Kathy at December 12, 2006 06:08 PM (EcKjI)

5 I think Number 3 was the best. It worked beautifully for me when I'd get picked on. I found that if I could out talk the "picker", then things stopped quickly. That small big of advice that I got from my Dad helped me tremendously. Plus, it taught me to think on my feet. I think you did a fantastic job, RP.

Posted by: Howard at December 13, 2006 12:17 PM (u2JaN)

6 You know what I like best about your relationship with your children? You don't talk down to them. Not that I think that Mama wanted you to -- I just think that children sense when you are "humoring" them and their "small" problems. Because if it is your problem, it's never small. Mama is just being protective. I know, because I play one on TV. As for how you did? Brilliantly. This is why the Good Lord made children have two parents. Lovies to you all,

Posted by: Just Me at December 18, 2006 04:34 PM (rp9WJ)

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Sunday was a day spent slowing down to the pace of a three year old.

By way of background, the Girl Child had a friend last year in pre-school. The friend had a mother who was possessed of a strange brand of militant feminism. She convinced the girls in the Girl Child's class that "girl power" was better than "boy power". This divisive nonsense has continued to this day and the upshot is that the Boy Child has become upset that he is a boy, that he has "boy power" and not "girl power" and that maybe he'd rather be a girl. I think that this is ridiculous. The Viking Bride thinks that this is ridiculous. I have come to loathe this other mother, by the way. This attitude is not what we want our kids exposed to or influenced by. So, it was time to take corrective action. It was time to show BC just how cool it can be to be a boy. And yes, he already knew that only boys can write their names in the snow, but we have not had any snow yet!

So, it was time for a Boys Day Out, just me and BC. We caught the 8:33 train out of Westport on Sunday morning to go into the City. As you may know, trains occupy a large percentage of his thoughts on a daily basis, that is, when he's not thinking about planes or buses. So taking a train was already a good start. He talked, loudly and excitedly, the whole way into the City. The conductor gave him his own ticket on which the conductor punched out a smiley face. More excitement!

We arrived in Grand Central and walked up to Madison Avenue to catch a bus. This was a big moment for him. We had to run a little bit but did manage to get on a bus going our way. The Boy Child yelled at me to sit down quickly because he was afraid the bus would start moving. When we got off, we had to pause to watch the bus head off again.

I had decided, while taking the train in, that we were going to have our Boys Day Out completely at his pace. So, if he wanted to watch a bus pull away from the curb, or even three buses pull away, that's what we were going to do, his little hand firmly tucked in mine.

We then walked off to a private club I am a member of, both of us in our blue blazers. We sat for a while in the Reading Room, overlooking Fifth, so that he could watch the buses go by some more. Then we took the "Elligator" down to the basement to have a swim. We stopped at the door so I could show him the sign -- "MEN ONLY" and he said to me, "I are a man!". We stripped down naked and hit the whirl pool which is really about the size of a kiddy pool. He liked it and enjoyed getting out to press the button to activate the jets. Again, we did whatever he wanted to do so we kept getting in and out to walk over to look at the lion's head fountain and to take long ways back because certain paths were "closed" and "the police might stop us". Eventually, I coaxed him into the big pool and we played on the steps there where I chatted with a much older man and told him about our boy-esteem building mission. He helped out by later telling the Boy Child in the changing room how much fun it was to be boy and the Boy Child agreed. The one thing the Boy Child did not care for was the sauna, but he gave it a shot.

After swimming, he kept me company and "we" shaved together. I put shaving cream on his hands and, after watching me, he rubbed it all over his cheeks so that he could shave too. He was concerned about whether the razor hurt and when I told him that it did, sometimes, he decided not to remove the cream with a razor but would wait until he was older. The other men thought he was adorable with the shaving cream on his cheeks. And, of course, he was.

Then we went up to see the Men's Squash Lounge and watch some other boys playing squash. I think he was getting a kick out of being only where boys were allowed to go. After a little squash viewing and some more elligator riding, we went off to brunch where after discussing how boys need to eat protein, the Boy Child was indulged to his heart's content (and the boy has a big heart) with the dessert buffet. He was, by this point, getting in to the boy thing because he called across the dining room to me when a woman came in -- "Pappa! There's a girl here!" I explained that it was ok.

After brunch, we watched some more buses go by and then, appropriately re-covered up, we walked the five blocks up to the Plaza Hotel building to see where Eloise lives. That was exciting for him since he likes the Eloise books. Then, we went into Bergdorf's Men's Store so he could push the revolving door. That was the whole point of that visit, to go through that. After Bergdorf's we made our way down Madison Avenue, pausing whenever a bus went by to watch its progress up the avenue. We continued our walk down, turning East on 54th Street again, where we happened to pass by the B. Club. The B. is an all male, very exclusive private club and I am not a member. So, of course, we didn't hesitate but went right in where, after explaining to the attendant what our mission was, were invited into the inner sanctum to see the huge Christmas tree and to be treated to a discussion by the attendant of why being a boy was so cool.

After leaving the B., we wandered into Citicorp Center where I recalled they had their display of holiday trains. It is, hands down, the most elaborate display of model trains I have ever seen. We spent an hour looking at it and I only managed to entice The Boy Child away by mentioning the waffles at the Norwegian Seaman's Church, where we were going to stock up on supplies for the Viking Bride. We continued our walk over there, on 52nd between 2nd and 1st. Are you getting the impression that for a little boy he did a lot of walking? Well he did and with not a single word of complaint, either. We walked totally at his pace.

The people at the Church were very nice and we shopped and got waffles and coffee (he declined a cup, although I offered, much to the horror of the older women who may not have realized I was joking). After our visit, we went off to catch a bus down 2nd to go back to the train. To the Boy Child's huge delight, it was a "tic-ya-lated" bus (an articulated bus). We rode all the way down, got off, waited to watch it leave, and he held my hand and skipped all the way over to Grand Central Terminal so we could catch our train, the 3:07.

His wonderful behavior continued for the whole train ride home. And to cap off the perfect Boy's Day Out, he captivated a five year old girl who was really adorable. She kept coming over to show the Boy Child her stuffed dog. Her parents had to yell at her because she wanted to keep talking to him as their stop came up. She made sure to lean in at the window and wave to him as she walked down the station platform. He is sure going to break some hearts, I think.

All in all, it was just a grand way to spend a day. And I thought you all might enjoy reading about it.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:13 AM | Comments (31) | Add Comment
Post contains 1367 words, total size 7 kb.

1 What a wonderful way to make memories for the both of you. ; )

Posted by: Christina at December 04, 2006 12:11 PM (NUhQR)

2 Too cute, RP! Hope it was restorative for you!

Posted by: grammarqueen at December 04, 2006 01:20 PM (XzHwx)

3 Sounds like a great day RP! I've heard from other parents of boys that this seems to be somewhat of a disease, teaching girls they are more powerful than boys. And along with that is the overlooking boys and awarding girls.

Posted by: Oorgo at December 04, 2006 04:48 PM (ZUQGo)

4 what a lovely day for both of you. I hope that the BC enjoyed it as much as you clearly did!

Posted by: caltechgirl at December 04, 2006 09:41 PM (r0kgl)

5 I'm almost jealous of the boys, now! Glad you guys had such a wonderful day.

Posted by: Hannah at December 05, 2006 03:18 AM (5w+E2)

6 great tale! and a great antidote to that overzealous mom...

Posted by: Caroline at December 05, 2006 08:29 AM (GnuPm)

7 Loved reading about it. Hold onto the moments like that. I remember "shaving" with both my boys (they had toy razors and would copy me). Before I knew it, I was helping my 12-year-old shave for real just a week ago. Where does the time go? Keep writing about it... your vignettes make fantastic reading.

Posted by: JohnL at December 05, 2006 12:02 PM (Hs4rn)

8 Hey Random! Wonderful post, I asked Dan to read it too and he said it made him a little teary, he liked it so much. Loved it too, thanks for writing this. :-)

Posted by: Amber at December 05, 2006 01:28 PM (zQE5D)

9 That...was beautiful.

Posted by: MRN aka "The Husband" at December 05, 2006 04:18 PM (6r15q)

10 Your children are so precious I swear it breaks my heart.

Posted by: Helen at December 06, 2006 11:24 AM (WpuID)

11 That was a great story, RP. Being a boy in NYC sounds like a truly wonderful thing.

Posted by: Howard at December 06, 2006 03:37 PM (u2JaN)

12 RP, I loved the story and although it is a grand story, I'm glad I didn't read it when I was a child in school. If I had, I would have grown up longing to be a Boy! Much older now, but still, after that I feel a bit of a stir -- a bit of a longing to be a boy.

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13 LOL

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Posted by: cipUncestesew at February 28, 2009 02:55 AM (ITAFS)

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The Girl Child lied to us last night. Not the end of the world, you know. Kids lie. Most people lie. However, I came down on her with great firmness to nip this problem in the bud. As I explained to her, a lie is the death of trust. If I cannot trust her, it will be just horrible. Besides, we cannot let her get away with lying now, when she isnÂ’t quite six, because she was already showing flashes of brilliance in her lie last night. Heck, she could go pro one day.

HereÂ’s what happened: she wrote her name on the fabric of the seat of one of the kitchen chairs.

Upon confronting her, here was her outstanding lie: “I don’t think that I wrote that. It doesn’t even look like my handwriting.” Damn, isn’t that great? She didn’t deny writing it just said she was uncertain. Then she gave supporting proof – the name did not resemble her handwriting. Note, she didn’t say that it wasn’t her handwriting; just that it didn’t look like it. It was subtlety on subtlety. Good one.

Just the same, we cannot let that continue. I explained to her that she was in more trouble for lying to me than she was for the graffiti.

* * *

I might as well share one other happening this weekend to show how the natives are getting restless, how rebellion is breaking out all over the house. The Viking Bride asked the Boy Child, 3.5, to clean up his toys. He thought for a moment, looked at her, and replied: “Ain’t happening”.

She laughed. Me, too. Almost as hard as when we were driving to the playground on Sunday and I spotted a Model-T driving along the Post Road. I pointed it out to the kids and the Girl Child, swiftly echoed by the Boy Child, exclaimed: “Sweeeeet”.

Finally, yesterday morning, the Baby awoke before the Viking Bride was prepared for him to wake and the Girl Child and the Boy Child were also up. GC, after asking for permission, went into the BabyÂ’s room where the Viking Bride found her holding a book up over the crib so the Baby could see the pictures while she went over all the colors with him. I gather it was very cute.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:34 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 390 words, total size 2 kb.

Sunday was packed full of things to do. But we still managed, all of us, to steal away and let the kids take their shoes off and run around and play at the beach playground. It was a perfect afternoon for a spur of the moment beach visit.

I sat sort of in the middle of the playground under some shade with the baby on my chest as I kept an eye on the Girl Child who was playing with an old camp friend (the Girl Child was remarkably upfront about requesting that the mother of said camp friend push her on the tire swing). It was very peaceful as I sat there, rubbing my cheek against the baby's head and cooing at him while he tried to gum my thumb off. I actually started to relax.

And then came two mothers who sat beside me. One briefly remarked to me that our two daughters were in the same kindergarten class but, before I could introduce myself, she turned to her friend and they tuned me out. Oh, but I wish I could have tuned them out. See, they weren't just any two moms, they were Alpha-Moms. Alpha-Mom1 kicked things off by talking about her problems with her publishing company, about how she wasn't getting the support she needed, even though her book had, at one point, been below 1000 on Amazon for a whole week! Alpha-Mom2 really didn't have much to say about that, couldn't really top it, but did manage to express a lot of sympathy and support.

Then, however, the battleground shifted. It turned to their children. The big guns came out as they each tried to out do each other on the "my child is doing more interesting activities than your child front".

It was horrifying. They sat there and, in the name of good parenting, tried to top each other while pretending to share information. It went from soccer here ("if they get good enough, maybe they can be on traveling teams together!"), to ballet here, to tennis there, back to figure skating, and on. Alpha 2 got some of her own back against the book thing by pointing out that she had signed up for every available slot for lunch room monitoring and recess monitoring. Alpha 1 countered by playing up her own college athletics experiences (to look at this woman, you would be astounded to hear she ever broke a sweat on purpose, by the way) and then going into how she wanted her girl to learn how to play squash. That kind of topped it all since Alpha 2 had never even heard of squash.

[Full disclosure: I had already tried to sign the Girl Child up for squash but she has to wait until she's 7. I did it because I thought she'd like it and it would be fun for us to play together.]

As Alpha 1 extolled the virtues of squash and how she had played in college and all of her many triumphs on the squash court, I gave up. I got up and walked away. I couldn't take it any longer. My own anxiety level was shooting through the roof as I realized how poorly (read: sensibly) scheduled my daughter was. Seriously. I mean, I had heard of parents like these but never seen them in the wild, in their native habitat -- the playground.

I walked over to the parents of the kid my daughter was playing with, introduced myself, and begged for shelter. They kindly took me in and calmed me down.

Oh, I forgot, the only time the two Alphas paid any attention to me was when I had occasion to address a few remarks in Norwegian to the Girl Child. The two Alphas fell silent and then immediately wanted to know what language I was speaking to my daughter in. I have to think that the demand for Norwegian language tutors is going to skyrocket in Westport as a result. Just skyrocket.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:40 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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1 How do you say "Confusion to the Alphas!" in Norwegian? I went looking for the Norwegian word for "squash" and apparently it is simply, "squash." [http://www.bowlingogsquash.com/squash.htm]

Posted by: MCNS at September 11, 2006 11:56 AM (7eYDK)

2 Parents like that are the reason why psychopharmaceutical use is skyrocketing among the under-18 set. Grr, do I hate listening to moms (or dads) play "can you top this"! Their kids turn into super-achievement-focused automatons who don't care what they do as long as they're the best at it. Those are the parents who come storming into the classroom demanding to know why their little scholar got an A and not an A-plus - or worse yet, why their little scholar got written up for plagiarizing and can you PROVE it was REALLY plagiarism and isn't it somehow YOUR fault that THEY "didn't know" it was cheating ... and so forth. Gah!

Posted by: Caroline at September 11, 2006 12:21 PM (RRFHj)

3 Argh! Well, you survived and even got a story out of it, right? And who knows when those kids might need Norwegian? Might set them on a whole career path...

Posted by: Hannah at September 11, 2006 04:06 PM (ImQx2)

4 My poor, deprived son is taking swimming lessons and that's it. My husband and I decided long ago to stay away from the Alpha race. We don't want it for us or our kids. It's always so silly to hear when other people start competing though.

Posted by: Jordana at September 11, 2006 05:21 PM (v3uk2)

5 When did it go from "What's best for my child" to "What makes my child the best"? It's just glorified child abuse.

Posted by: Brian B at September 14, 2006 02:15 AM (NLbbU)

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Saturday was a busy day. I had the Boy Child and the Girl Child showered, dressed, fed and out of the house by 7:15 a.m. for an 8 o'clock dentist appointment. They both did very well at the dentist and loaded up on small things out of the prize chest -- stickers, plastic bugs, and cheap jewelry. On the way back to CT, we had the following exchange:

GC: Pappa, you better roll the windows up so our stickers don't blow out.

BC: Uh, oh! Girl Child, your butterfly necklace just blew out the window!

GC: WHAT!?!?!!!

BC: I kidding.

GC: [tone: a little angry and very firm] Boy Child! Do NOT joke about jewelry blowing out the window!

Just so we're all clear. Some things, you just shouldn't joke about.

I don't mean to give the impression that she's a girly-girl. Far from it.

Me: GC, are you playing at all with that girl Sophie in your class?

GC: No, she's mean.

Me: Why do you say that?

GC: She says stupid things.

Me: Like what?

GC: Like girls should only play with girls and boys should only play with boys. That's stupid. I like to play with [rattles off a list of six boys].

One mother, who knew the GC from pre-school and is now a recess monitor at kindergarten, confirmed for me that while a lot of the girls like to sit around, the GC prefers to run around and play with the boys. Good for her, I say. In the long run, it is a healthier attitude.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:07 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 256 words, total size 1 kb.

1 Good. She's earning the boys' respect right off the bat. Believe it or not, I'll bet that makes her even more mysterious to 'em.

Posted by: Tuning Spork at September 11, 2006 08:19 AM (frcLH)

2 Go Girl Child! Just make sure she doesn't do the same thing I did - only hang out with the guys, end up in a very guy oriented profession... and GASP - not even know how to deal with makeup. But then again, after reading the necklace episode, I don't see that coming fast.

Posted by: Hannah at September 11, 2006 04:08 PM (ImQx2)

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I was putting the Girl Child to bed last night and we had the following interchange:

GC: Pappa, can I have some glue?

Me: Why?

GC: To glue my little bench back together.

Me: Which bench?

GC: You know, the little one I got in Norway and which broke? Which clearly wasn't my fault since I said we should have left it in Norway.

I worry about her telling her teacher that she's "clearly" wrong. I mean, what amuses me. . .

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:27 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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The kids are at my parents' house for the weekend while I recuperate. My father called me last night to tell me about how the Girl Child set him straight on an issue and I wanted to record it so, here it is.

Grandfather: Boy Child! I need you to sit down right now and finish your dinner.

Girl Child: Grandpa, no, that isn't true. You don't need him to sit down and finish his dinner, you want him to sit down and finish his dinner.

I gather my dad was the tiniest bit flabergasted. As well he should be. I mean, she's only about 5 and a half.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 06:14 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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So, we're sitting around the dinner table tonight. The Viking Bride, The Girl Child, the Boy Child, the Nanny and me. The following is a snippet of conversation:

GC: So, do you know. . .

Me: Who knows what evil lurks in men's hearts!?!

Total silence, blank looks from everyone but the Viking Bride

Me: The Shadow knows!

Nanny: Is that from a movie?

Me: No, it was from a radio show a long time ago, many moons ago, before they had television.

GC: [tone: genuine puzzlement] Was that the 1980's?

And just like that, your youth is their history book.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 06:48 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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1 erm, it's "who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men." not that I'm picky or anything.

Posted by: Kathy at August 11, 2006 02:59 PM (HiYDm)

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Ok, bearing in mind that my daughter is only 5 1/2 years old, I would like to point out that the following concept may not have been grasped even by adults.

We are driving back from the lovely Westport pool today and I had the following interchange with the Boy Child and the Girl Child.

BC: Pappa, are lifeguards nice?

Me: All the lifeguards I've met have been nice so I'd say that they are nice.

GC: But, Pappa, that doesn't mean anything. [I knew immediately what she was getting at here and I was blown away]

Me: Why not?

GC: Just because you've met some nice lifeguards doesn't mean that all the lifeguards in the whole world are nice.

I was really stunned. She's just 5 1/2 and here, it was clear, she was objecting to my generalizing about lifeguards as a class based on my limited personal experience. And she was certainly right to do so, I think.

I'm so proud of her.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:01 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Yesterday, the Boy Child was flush, rich, comfortably well-off. He got some coins out of my uncle's pockets. He clutched the coins in his hot little hand, looked at the Viking Bride and said:

I are the money man! But the money man has to pee. Can you hold my money?

Nice to see that money hasn't altered his sense of trust.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 06:43 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Very gently, tenderly, with some small confusion in her voice, the Girl Child tries to help me confront some of the inevitable facts of life.

I took the Girl Child and the Boy Child out for a drive on Sunday. We drove some of the back roads in Fairfield, CT, the next town over. Fairfield is lovely. Lots of old houses.

The Girl Child starts kindergarten come the autumn. She has been singing, “I’m going to kindergarten, kindergarten here I come. They’ve got a lot of higher education there and I’m gonna get me some”. Great excitement, you see. She knows that she is going to have homework. We were so informed and in turn we warned her. We told her that she would not need a desk yet because she would be doing her homework at the kitchen table where we could keep an eye on her. Really, what kind of homework do they give a kindergartner anyway?

So, back to Sunday and our ride. I spot a for sale sign on an old Federal style house along with a hot pink tag sale sign (link to real estate site, if you want to see what the house looked like). I should have a bumper sticker: “Warning, I brake for this kind of crap and I pull over and park on the side of the road as safely as I can but you should still be careful.” Long, but safety is job one, you know. Anyway, we pull through the gates and wander about. There it is. An old school room desk and chair. The chair has the initials bored school children carved on the seat with their pocket knives when you could still bring knives to school. The desk has a hole for the old ink well. It was perfectly sized for a small child. It was also only $25. I didn’t even try to negotiate. I just asked them to mark it sold while I dashed home to obtain a check. They were happy to hold it.

While driving back to the house, the kids and I had the following conversation:

Boy Child: Girl Child, IÂ’m gonna be sad when you go to king-a-garden. You not gonna be there with me at home anymore.

Me: And IÂ’m going to be sad, too.

GC: Why, pappa? YouÂ’re at work anyway.

Me: Because IÂ’m not ready yet for you to grow up and it seems like you going to school is the first step in your growing up.

GC: [tone: puzzled, tentative, and gentle] Pappa, you know that time has to change, right? I mean, I have to go to school and grow up, right?

And there you have it. Even my daughter realizes this. Its just me who wants to hang on to the past. She was very sweet about it, though.

And she loves her new desk. It has a dark varnish on it that she notes will go well with her skin tone when she has a tan. We got it up to her room and she immediately put some paper in it.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:44 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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