The Sweetest of Spots

The almanacs of parenting tell of a time
Where the hard toil of many seasons
Blossoms into a harvest of happiness:

The Sweet Spot

Old enough to not need your
Constant supervision and attention
To be free of diapers and wipes and bags
Able to walk and run and skip and jump without often falling
With a growing playful imagination that can create games on their own

BUT

Young enough
To still want to have you around.
To guard the door of a strange stall or Port-O-Let.
To pick up, bandage and kiss or lend a hand when balance is failing
To pretend to be their scary monster or pirate at the playground

Before the independence you tried to foster for so long
Not only takes hold,
But becomes a barrier between you
As they continue to grow and uproot
On their way to a new garden

The Afterlife

I'm not sure if there is a

Day of Final Judgement

For humans when we die. 

A gleaming golden set of pearly gates

Beset by clouds

A grey-haired saint Peter

Thinning a little at the top

Clean trimmed salt and pepper beard

Wearing his white graduation gown.

Standing at his gilded lectern

Peering at those to be judged

Over half-moon reading glasses

Affixed to his neck with a glimmering chain.

His hands resting on an open book

A catalogue of the accumulated good and bad deeds.

I hope against all hope

That final ledger contains

A column titled:

"Parental sportsmanship at little league games"

Because if I had my way,

The dude settling next to me who just 

REVELED

In the joy of a nine year old striking out,

Should roast on a spit

In the great Showtime Rotisserie Of Eternity.

Even if he saves some kids from a burning orphanage a few years from now. 

Tear Jerkers

Even though he is now seven,
He still cries at movies.

Deep, heaving sobs
With tears streaming down his cheeks.

Especially if there is
A pig in peril,
A dog far from home,
A frog in a Russian prison,
Or a boy lost in the space-time continuum.

I am not worried about this.
He has a big heart and
An active imagination.

There will be a day when he grows up
And movies will no longer have that strong of an emotional grip.
And the only thing that will make him cry,
Is thinking about his little boy growing up.

Yet Another New Rule

I discovered new tribal art
At bath time.
A trail of ink stamped from
Pale inner wrist to
Outer shoulder.

$418$418$418$418$418$418

She tries to absolve the obviously guilty older brother,
But her testimony crumbles under the anatomic impossibility
Of this being a one man job.

This has lead to a new rule:
NO PRICING YOUR SISTER.

At least he wasn't letting her go for cheap.

Another Brilliant Idea Down the Toilet

I do laundry-

Lots of laundry.

Three to four loads of laundry,

At least twice a week-

It's like my hobby.

After a few mishaps with markers and melted crayon,

I took my wife's advice and started checking ALL

(not most)

Of the pants pockets

(front AND back)

Before they got chucked

Into the washing machine.

The things I found

Were fascinating to me.

Discarded bits of my kids' life.

A guitar pick

A piece of string

Half of an eraser

A hand drawn cartoon folded into a rectangle

A ticket

I thought,

If taken in sum,

These biweekly treasures that were important enough to squirrel away in their jeans 

Might paint a picture of who my kids are.

I thought it would be an interesting art project

To photograph these things,

This junk,

This crap.

And make a blog of just the pictures without comment.

I was going to call it www.crapinmykidspants.com

But the URL was already taken

You shouldn't go there

It's gross.

Stuff This in Your Facebook

Praise the effort, not the final product.
Commend the character, not the deed.
Express disappointment in the choice not the child.

Well intentioned
Small studies
Without real life outcomes
Amplified by social media

Make me feel like I need to
MICROMANAGE MY WORDS!!
Or I am a bad parent
(or did I make a bad choice)

Can we all start with...
Try to listen.
Try to look in the eye.
Try not to yell
or hit
or hurt.

Give them your
Hugs and
Kisses and
Time.

Give it twenty years
And let's see how it works out.

Conflict Resolution

"Daddy,
I need your help.
The boys won't let me play their game.
I want to be a princess."
Her face is downtrodden.
Her voice a barely audible squeak.

We travel together to the basement.

Blankets and rearranged chairs have transformed the space into their imaginations' playground.

"Boys, your attention please!

Your sister wants to play with you.

She wants to be a princess.

Please let her be a princess."

Expressions of shock and indignation

Fly in the face of the request.

"But Dad,

There are no princesses

 In World War II!"

I meet the exasperation with a salute as inspiration strikes,

"General!

Meet your new recruit:

Princess Jones"

Life's Little Rewards

I am beaming
I am puffed up with pride

I am enjoying my reward

I am sitting in this chair
She is in another room playing
And it floats on the air to me
Her gift - A dandelion seed

"As I walked in to Glascow city....."

She knows all the words to "Nancy Whiskey"

What Happens in the Mine....

Dad!  I painted two new paintings and a sign with my name on it and hung it up in my room!

Great

Dad! Yesterday my cousin got stuck in the bottom of a deep hole and he lost some string he was carrying!

Ohhkayyy......

Dad!  I made a house out of sticks and filled it with dynamite and then when a zombie came along I lit a fuse and blew the whole thing up!

Hang On!

I think we need a new rule

Would you
Ever so kindly
Raise your left hand
When a story you are telling me happened
In the real world

And raise your right hand

When a story you are telling me happened

In Minecraft  

I may not see much of the left hand for awhile

You Can Decide if This Actually Happened

Come on everybody!

Let's Go!

Get in the Car!

It's time to go to swim!

We are late!

Come on!  Come on!

Don't dilly dally!

Get in the van and buckle up!

Big ones, help the little ones!

I'm right behind you, I just need to lock up the house!

(with this bowl of peanut butter frosting and this spoon)

Okay, let's roll.

I Gotta Feelin'

As a parent

You sometimes get

A feeling 

A feeling

Like you are entering a haunted house

Like you are at the top of the roller coaster

Like opening the door to a surprise party

A feeling 

Like I don't know where this is going to go

But it's probably going to be an interesting ride

It might be a little bit scary

You can either hold on to the railing

Or put your hands in the air and scream

A feeling

Like when you hear

A four year old say to her brother,

"Hey bud, here's the Sharpie you wanted!"

The Legacy of Man

It has taken forty years,
But today I assumed my legacy.

The legacy of a father,
Left to me by my father
And his father before him,
And his father before him.

There were times when others doubted,
Nay!!
Certain I would not,
He will not!!!
Or that I could not,
He can not!!!
Fulfill my birthright.

Alas,
The time was right.
I saw what needed to be done,
And I did that thing.

I cleaned my driveway.

With a hose.

At least the black socks kept my toes warm in the sandals.

The Name Game

I can trace its origins.


I know that your cousin has a cat

That is named after a popular candy

With a plural sounding name.


I am sure that this is a tribute

To little "Snickers" who lives

In the barn.


But it makes me laugh,

When you two are pretending to be

A pet owner and a kitty cat


And all I hear,

Suckers!  Get over here!

C'mon, Suckers!

Suuuuccckkkkerrrsss!

Measuring

"Daddy, I need to borrow the measurer."

I take the yellow and black
Stanley Measuring Tape
And place it firmly in her open palm
A perfect impression of a scrub nurse
It lands with a pat

She crosses the room
With a shuffling run
Quietly sidling next to the
Patient cat

She coordinates her small hands
One feeding the metal tape out
The other keeping it from retreating
Into the tools' plastic snail shell

Slowly Slowly Slowly
The concentration required
Forces her tongue out of her mouth

Finally she exclaims,

"Seventeen Pounds!"