Category Archives: michael

Observations

We were driving home from Church.

Michael noticed an airplane in the sky with its landing lights blazing.

“Why do they have their lights on?” He asked, one hand shading his eyes as he peered into the sunny sky to watch the plane fly over.

“It’s FAA regulations,” I said. “It’s the law.”

“To make it safer,” his mom said.

“Safer?” He asked.

“Yes – it’s the law for airplanes to have their lights on to make it easier to see people,” she continued.

“No… I mean, during the day,” he emphasized.

“Exactly. It is important to keep your lights on during the day. The laws are set so that airplanes have to have their lights on. It’s easier to see people when you have your lights on.”

“During the day?”

“Yes,” she continued. “Some people drive with their headlights on during the day. Our car has its front lights on during the day, because it makes it easier for people to see.”

Michael sat and thought about that for a while.

“This world makes no sense to me,” he said, finally.

“When it starts making perfect sense, kid,” I said, “then you know you’re doing something wrong.”

 

Punny Boy

It’s bedtime, and we’re upstairs brushing teeth.

Michael has had evidently been bitten by an exceedingly large wiggle bug because he won’t hold still while I attempt to maneuver the spinning brush around his teeth.

He gives one spectacular lurch and the brush is pushed out of his mouth completely, then goes skittering along his cheek.

“Hold still! I almost brushed your eye that time,” I said.

“Well, if you did, then at least I’d have good oral EYE-giene!” he replied without missing a beat.

The Latest

Just a quick note to snapshot Michael’s life at the moment.

Michael is enjoying 2nd grade quite a bit. We had a bit of a rough start this year; due to budget cuts, there were some shakeups with the teaching staff. The teacher assigned to his class was not ready for the task and eventually resigned. The replacement teacher was wonderful and we had high hopes for her in this position… but she came down with a malady that while ultimately treatable prevented her from continuing in the teaching capacity. Luckily, our favorite teacher, Mrs. P., whom you may remember as being his teacher during 1st grade, was chosen as the replacement replacement, and this has proved to be the best of all. If only we could have her be his teacher all the way up through his senior year of high school!

He’s still taking swimming lessons, and doing quite well. He can already swim rings around me, having learned the proper techniques for various swim strokes, including the side-breathing method used in the “crawl” or free style arm stroke. I never could get that down. My best style is dog paddle and stay alive until the coast guard arrives. Coupled with the swim class is diving. Here’s an older video of him during one class (sorry it’s so distant; that’s as close as the spectators can get):

He’s improved quite a bit since then. He goes three days a week. It’s clear across town but it’s a great outlet for all of that energy he has. The only downside is that it ends up making for a pretty late evening; by the time we get home it’s already way past bedtime. He’s handling it just fine, though.

His sisters are doing well, too. Oldest sister B is working at a pizza shop, and was recently promoted to shift manager. I stopped by one day while she was working. It was heartening to watch her take orders, make five pizzas (including the dough tossing – not something I have mastered) and direct the drivers to their deliveries. Middle sister S is in her final year of high school, and has improved her math skills to the point where she has been able to tutor others informally. Sister L, Michael’s twin, is fully enmeshed in her Renaissance pursuits at her art school, stuck between choosing graphic arts, theater and literature. She has a love of antiquities that makes her grandmother (and would make her great-grandmother) very proud.

And it’s just a few short months until Michael’s Mommy starts her new job.

Myself, I have plans to take an extended stay-cation this summer (fortunately my workplace offers that benefit every seven years) to catch up on my honey-do list. I have a number of projects in and around the house that need tending to.

This year is shaping up to be a very good one.

Bits and Pieces

This weekend was pretty much devoted to rounding up Legos.

He’d recently gotten a couple of Star Wars – themed Lego building sets and decided that it was time to start in on them.

So he did what any self-respecting kid would do: tore open each of the little plastic pouches right where he sat on the couch.

I’m not sure if you’re all aware of this, but Lego blocks are created from a special kind of material that seeks the lowest, farthest in, most inconvenient nook it can if left to its own devices. This is why when you happen to allow some of these little buggers escape your grasp, they will instantly bury themselves in whatever crevice is handy. A couch makes a perfect spot for this, as it has several strata and plenty of inaccessible crannies in which to lose things.

“Daddy! I lost some pieces!” Michael cried.

“Michael, you didn’t open these up on the couch, did you?” his mother asked.

“Yes but I have all the pieces except I lost some,” he admitted.

“Well let’s gather what you have into something solid and put them aside while we look for the pieces you lost,” his mom continued. “Really, Michael, you can’t tear into packages like that on the couch! You have to do it on a flat, hard surface where things can’t get lost,” she reprimanded.

Michael grabbed a nearby Frisbee and we used that to scoop up the pieces we could see, and we set them aside.

Digging through the couch did not immediately yield any treasures, so we had to resort to lifting the cushions.

A couple of Lego studs fell out, and maybe a block or a random character’s head.

Still some missing.

Time to turn the couch modules over completely and scour the floor. Our couch is a corner sectional unit, one we chose for its ability to simultaneously contain the posteriors of everyone who might at any one time be relaxing downstairs to enjoy the fire or the television. So it does turn over, but in four chunks.

Eventually we got the sections turned over and moved out of the way. On top of this were the cushions, bolster pillows, throw pillows, blankets and other assorted flotsam.

On the floor was quite a bit of shameful detritus not reached by the vacuum. Including a couple of Lego pieces. Not the entire contingent of missing pieces, but some.

Which meant more searching.

What made things complicated was the many battalions of green army men that Michael had deployed earlier. There were several troops arrayed in various areas, mostly flanking the fireplace and the ottoman (earlier there had been a squadron deployed along the floor between the table and the couch, but an avenging foot got tired of stepping on them and swept them out of the way). These complicated matters by making a larger array of items that needed to be picked up and put away before we could search for missing pieces, which we had to do before we could vacuum.

Michael reluctantly agreed to recall his troops. As of this writing I believe they are all still on leave.

A few more shakes of the blankets and one sweatshirt revealed the last of the missing legos.

Michael received another admonishment to be more careful, and a command to pick up every single individual Lego piece.

Eventually we were able to vacuum and restore the couch to order. By Sunday afternoon the family room looked neat as a pin, and Michael’s Lego project was safely stored in a Ziploc bag.

Last night he opened up another box and started in. This time, with a set that had four times as many pieces.

Fortunately, he did it on the carpet, not on the couch. So we only lost three pieces.

I’m going to be wearing shoes in the house until the Lego phase passes.

 

Let Them Eat Sprouts

Last night, my wife made something new and extremely delicious for dinner. We take turns cooking, but because our computer had gotten zapped by a power outage recently and had to be rebuilt, I was occupied with being Mr. Computer Guy and restoring everyone’s email and iTunes and all that stuff. So it was up to her to provide the family with sustenance.

On the menu was was roasted chicken sausage over a bed of red cabbage and apple sauerkraut. A German feast to be sure, and tasty beyond description.

But what stuck in my memory was the exchange that occurred just before dinner was served. Michael asked what would be served with it.

“Mommy, are there vegetables?”

“Well, the cabbage is a vegetable,” she said.

“But what about Brussels sprouts?” he asked, hopefully.

“Not tonight; we don’t have any Brussels sprouts.”

Michael heaved a disappointed sigh. Yes, you read that correctly.

“Oh,” he said.

“But I do have cauliflower that I can roast.  Would you like that?” his mom offered.

“Yes, that would be good too,” he said.

You know you’re doing something right in the kitchen when your eight-year-old is disappointed that you’re not making Brussels sprouts.

After dinner I told my wife that she needs to cook every night. Oddly enough she was not overjoyed at my suggestion.

Don’t Take Advice from Candy

A couple of days ago, Michael came to me out of the blue with a sort of sidelong confession:

“Daddy… I had a blue chocolate and I was going to ask your permission but I ate the chocolate anyway but I threw away the wrapper.”

“Mmmmkay,” I mumbled.

As my brain processed his statement further, a small alarm bell began to ring deep in my subconscious. I looked up from my game of solitaire.

“Wait… what?”

“I threw away the wrapper.”

“What wrapper? What did you eat?”

“One of the blue chocolates.”

You see, on Christmas, Santa Claus had been gracious enough to place a full bag of “Dove Promises” chocolates in the stocking labeled “Daddy”. If you’re not familiar with these, let me just say, Dove makes a milk chocolate that is beyond compare. These particular little morsels are wrapped in blue foil, which on the inside have some pithy little affirmation such as “Hug yourself” or “Believe in your dreams” or “Take time to relax”. Before Michael could really read well, he’d ask us to read them to him (oddly, the ones he handed to his mom to read always said “Kiss Your Mommy”).

I made no mention of the chocolates at the time, but squirreled them away to what I believed to be a secretive location, one high and away from the prying eyes of those under five feet tall. Evidently Michael’s packing either a periscope or a high-tech chocolate detector. Or both.

He’d found my stash, and had gotten into it.

“So, you took one of my chocolates without my permission?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You should have asked me first! You know that.”

“Well, I was going to ask, but I opened it up and it said ‘Give yourself permission‘ so I did.”

I’m going to write the Mars company a strongly-worded letter.

And I’m going to hide my chocolate in a safer location.

 

 

Love knows no distance

We’re all still reeling from the news of Friday last. The hollow, pained feeling that came with the unfolding story is palpable. I can only imagine how horrible it must be for the families involved.

My wife sent me texts at work. She was following the news reports and shaking her head in disbelief. We prayed for the families, prayed those little souls would get an express trip to the arms of our Lord.

Like everyone else, we came home and hugged our own a little tighter and kept them a little closer.

Michael knew what had happened, as much as his little 8 year old mind could comprehend from what he saw on the news, and from the information he gathered from the questions he asked about it. He felt his own sadness and disbelief.

But he was content to play with his action figures behind the couch while his mom and I sat side by side watching the horrifying news updates.

“Michael?” his mom said, when she could bear it no longer.

“What?” he called around from behind.

“Come here please.”

Michael obediently came around and presented himself to his mother.

“What?”

“I just want to hug you again,” she said. He climbed into her lap and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his neck and kissed him. “I love you so much,” she said, holding him tightly.

She finally loosened her embrace. “I need you to sit here with me. I need to love you,” she said.

He thought for just a moment.

“Could you still love me while I’m just over there?” he pointed behind the couch.

“Yes, I can love you over there,” she said, though I knew she’d rather have him right next to her. Probably for the next 10 years or so.

He scrambled back to play with his toys.

Love can be right up close, but it can also go around corners and down hallways and across town. And across miles.

We may not be related, but those were our kids too. They were everyone’s kids and we all will miss them terribly.

Chances are…

(With apologies to Jeff Foxworthy)

If you have ever had to read a Lego Hero Factory book using a robot voice, chances are you have a little boy living with you.

If you occasionally find yourself with an army helmet suddenly and inexplicably perched on top of your head, it is likely you have a little boy in your home.

If you find spurious sticks in your car, it is a sure thing you share a home with a little boy.

If, as you clear the kitchen table, you come across rocks of various size and appearance, you do, without a doubt, have a little boy living with you.

If you traverse the hallway or family room and suddenly wince in pain only to discover that you have a little green plastic army man embedded in your foot, there is a strong possibility that you have a little boy in your home.

If you’ve ever been de-rezzed by a hard plastic Tron disc while making dinner, there is little room for doubt that there is a little boy in your home.

If you encounter someone vying for your wife’s affections in a most jealous manner, and this someone needs to stand on a chair in order to get kisses from mommy, and his mommy is all smiles and warm heart throughout, and you yourself can’t help but smile, then you certainly have a little boy in your house.

I’m sure some day I’ll miss the jealous affection-vying.

I can’t say the same for the army men. He has several squadrons stationed at battle lines all over the house, just waiting for an unwary foot.

Milk Curse

Michael is allergic to dairy products, and soy products.

But like any being with bones, he needs his calcium. The preferred delivery vehicle for this is milk. This has posed a problem, as illustrated below:

Wonderful! Rice milk may not be as rich in protein as some others, but it tastes good and provides him the nutrients he needs.

Lately we’ve heard some bad reports in the news about arsenic. It’s that poisonous substance that was made famous by a particular play about a murderous family. Turns out it’s in a lot of the food we eat, to some degree.

And unfortunately, it has shown up to a large degree in that staple enjoyed by millions, rice. And in all products derived from rice. This presents us with a troublesome quandary, as illustrated in this second infographic:

“But there’s almond milk! You should try that!” you say.

“BLECH!” Michael says. You see, we’ve already tried almond milk and he has rejected it flatly.

There are a few other options… coconut milk being one of them. We’ve tried it once before and found it to be acceptable, just more difficult to find in quantities that we need.

I hope the neighbors don’t mind if I replace the front lawn with a grove of coconut trees.

One More Grey Hair

Daddy and Michael are driving to swimming practice.

From his forward vantage point, Daddy notices an awesome old car heading this way from the other direction. It looked to be from around 1918, and very well cared for.

Daddy had to show Michael, but didn’t have time for a lot of words before the car passed.

Daddy: “Michael! Look to the left at the car!”

Michael: (silence as car passes)

Daddy: “Wow!”

Michael: “What was left in the car?”

Daddy: “No, I said look to the left”

Michael, looking right: “What’s left?”

Daddy: “It was a car. It’s passed now, so never mind.”

Michael: “What car?”

Daddy: “It already passed.”

Michael: “What was left?”

Daddy: “I said ‘look to the left at the car’, but it’s gone now. I was hoping you would have looked.”

Michael: “At what?”

Daddy: “The car.”

Michael, looking out the left window: “What car?”

Daddy: “It’s already passed.”

Michael: “What was so special about it?”

Daddy: “It was a cool old car from a long time ago, and I thought it looked neat and that you’d like to see it. But it’s way behind us now so it doesn’t matter.”

Michael: “Oh, that. I already saw it.”

Daddy: (silence as he wonders why he never learns to not initiate conversations like this)