God's Secret

On the way home from school one day last week, my daughter Kinsey matter of factly informed me that "God made himself". I thought about it for a moment then told her that as far as I knew, God had no beginning. Her response was to just continue looking out the car window.

Several hours later, Kinsey came up to me and asked how could it be that God had no beginning? "That's the million dollar question. Nobody knows the answer to that. Some people think they know but they don't" I said. I went on to tell her that we as humans have a very difficult time understanding that because most everything we experience and see has a beginning and an end. Kinsey thought about it for a minute and then stated that there is somebody who knows the answer and that somebody is God. Then she said "I wished God had told me the answer when I was born, but I guess he wanted to keep it a secret".

Scientists

Last night I was giving Kinsey and Riley a bath. Bath time is approached very business like until hair is washed and bodys are bathed. After that, it's time for fun and games. We have a shower head that can be removed from it's holder and held in your hand. This has made the chore of washing two little girls hair much easier. When I'm not actually holding the shower, I usually give it to Kinsey to be in charge of. She likes to make little "waterfalls" with it.

Last night when Kinsey was making another one of her waterfalls she proclaimed, "Daddy I'm a scientist who knows about waterfalls". She has told me before that she knows a lot about waterfalls but has never framed it in the realm of being a scientist. That got my attention. I said "You're a scientist are you?" She replied "I sure am and Riley is one too because she knows about bugs". I looked at Riley and she nodded her head confirming that it was true. Then Kinsey continued "I bet you never knew your two little girls are scientists". I had to admit, that was news to me.

Just when you think you may be able to guess what they're pondering, they vocalize their thoughts and you realize; the only way to really know what they are thinking is to take the time to listen. I asked Kinsey what she thought a scientist was . She told me it was somebody who tried to learn about stuff. I'd say that's a fair assessment.

Signing off for now, it's time to pick my scientists up from their labs.

Cheeseburger In Paradise

Several weeks ago my daughters and I loaded up in the car on our way to the library. It was a beautiful summerish autumn day. The warm sun, crystal clear blue sky and boating activity on the river put me in a Jimmy Buffet type mood. I slipped into the CD player the Meet Me in Margaritaville album. When it got to The Volcano song, old Jimmy had found himself two new fans. The girls said "play it again Daddy". We heard that song three times in a row on our way to the library. Fortunately it's a fairly short trip. Since then we have enjoyed that song many, many times on the way to many different places. After hearing The Volcano song over and over and over again, I decided to give disc one of the album a try. Cheeseburger in Paradise became an instant hit with my two little girls.

This morning just as we were pulling into Riley's school, she said to me "Daddy, play Cheeseburger and French Fries in Par-dise". I told her it was too late, that we had already arrived at school and needed to go inside. Then came the tears. "I want to hear Cheeseburger and French Fries in Par-dise" she said. Needless to say, we sat in the parking lot and listened to the song. Her world was good again.

Jimmy, if you're reading this, just know you can still make the young girls cry. Add two more devoted Parotheads to the count.

Weather Report

A few days ago our fine city awoke to significant fog rolling in off the St. Johns River. I noticed that my daughter Riley was unusually quiet on our way to school. Normally she is singing or chattering on about something. This day she seemed either tired or contemplative. As we were getting out of the car and walking toward school, she said to me, "Daddy, the clouds are falling to the ground". I love listening to my children. What a fantastic way to start the day.

New Hamster, Vermont and God's House

My girls make me laugh almost every day. Either they use words inappropriately, make words up, mimic my vocabulary (not always a good thing) and mannerisms, etc. This is especially true when my older daughter "instructs" my younger daughter. When Riley (two years) tries to comply with Kinsey's (five years) directives you never know what the result may be. First of all the direction is usually less than clear and is directed to an individual who's cognitive ability is less than fully developed.

The other day Kinsey was very authoritatively expressing to Riley how it's such a long path to Grandma's house (20 hours by car). "You know Riley, it takes a long time to drive to New Hamster" (also known as New Hampshire). Riley just takes it all in as though she completely understands. Her actions were very similar to mine in High School chemistry class. Nodding and acting as though you understand. You indicate through your body langauage that you simply have nothing else to add or question given the thoroughness and mastery of the subject by the instructor. The plan works until you're the one picked out of the crowd and asked a question. So then Kinsey says to Riley, "Riley do you know where New Hamster is?" Riley shakes her head revealing that her earlier body language, previously indicating understanding was nothing but a sham. Soooo.. then Kinsey continues with a tone dripping with an heir of superiority, "Riley, New Hamster is in Vermont". As if to say, you should know such simple facts. I feel obligated to correct my daughter on both counts.

Baby... New Hamster is actually pronounced New Hampshire and Vermont is a State just like New Hampshire and it is right next to it on the map. My daughter thinks about this for a few minutes. Then she asks me..."Daddy, is Grandma's house passed God's House?" I know how I answered, but would love to hear how some of you would have responded. It would be fun to see what various people think. Drop me a line and give me your thoughts. Take care!

Small Things

Remember your first piece of bubble gum? I have often watched my children experience things completely new to them. Frequently, when watching my children, I find myself accessing my childhood memory bank and wondering. I wonder if the pleasure I remember upon first trying new things and the memory I have of it will be similar to my childrens' memories 30 years from now. Some childhood items I recall with particular fondness and happy memories are;

1) My first pony ride - excitement and exhilaration
2) My first Ginger Ale - fresh taste with bubbles
3) Maple Syrup - Sweet nectar and unbelievably delicious
4) Wrestling with my grandmothers dog - great friend
5) Fresh smell of cut grass - Clean and invigorating
6) First visit to Fenway Park - Heaven on earth
7) Glass of grape juice - Sweet, slightly tart, made my taste buds come alive
8) Petting a cow - Soft eyes, coarse stiff hair
9) Driving a go cart - Feeling of freedom,independence
10) Camping in a tent - Looking at the stars, amazement

As an adult, I tend to take the small things in life for granted. However, when I try to view those same things through my childrens eyes coupled with my childhood memories, those small things again become magical and wonderful and the world becomes such a fun place to be. Thank God for the perspective of our children.

Domestic Chores

As a work from home Dad the bulk of the household chores have become my responsibility. I'm not quite sure how it happened but I can guarantee you that my wife knows. That girl is crafty and somehow outflanked me while I was looking the other way. I feel like Ross Perot's old running mate, Admiral Stockdale when he said with a confused look on his face "who am I and what am I doing here?". The Viet Congs infamous Charlie couldn't carry my wife's (uh.. now mine) laundry basket. Let's just put it on the record, and this hurts, she is smarter than me.

Accepting my defeat, I plod on with my assigned chores. There's something to be said for a gracious loser. In my own way I've made the defeat a victory. Now I get to pick the laundry detergent (Mountain Fresh Spring Air Flower Lilac Scent Bloom) and I get to choose the fabric softener too. Yeah, get some of that. Meals?, what I want to cook. No more questioning whether the milk purchased had the latest spoil date stamped on the top or whether it came from the bottom of the grocery store milk cooler. I'm in control of that now. So am I really the loser? You be the judge.

However, taking on the role of domestic maven has provided it's challenges. There are these little tasks that have sub-components that need to be done if you want to accomplish the task properly. Remembering all the while, if it's done improperly my wife knows.

Today was laundry day at my house. I have two little girls ages two and five. That fact alone increases the time required for this chore by two hours. How could that be you might ask. I certainly would have asked that question prior to my defeat. Little girls have lots and lots of little clothing things. Each little clothing thing must be folded. What about little girl underwear. The size difference between 2T and 5T is almost indistinguishable to the naked eye. So then you hunt down the size tag to see which child's pile get this particular pair of little girl panties. I don't know who the Einstein is who manufactures and selects the tag location for small girls underwear, but they need to do a load of laundry and then rethink the whole the damn thing. The tag is about an eigth of the size of the paper fortune in a fortune cookie. Upon washing, the tag rolls up like a caterpillar at being touched. So you get a pair of needlenose pliers to hold the tag taut enough to find the identifying number. Then the printed number is the size of a mustard seed. I had to break out my litle girls pirate telecope to read the thing. I'm still not sure I got them all right. But time was a wasting and I had other chores to do. What would my wife say if I didn't have her dinner ready when she got home? Listen, I've already acknowledged the fact that she can outsmart me. What am I going to look like when she asks me what's for dinner and I timidly break out some weak leftovers? She's going to start asking questions. I'm going to then start stammering about little girls panty tags? She'd probably Baker Act me.

In the kitchen I can hold my own and cooking is fun for me. I've got the skills of Hop Sing on Bonanza with the temperment of Gordon Ramsay. Not only is my cooking critiqued every night, but so are the ingredients I choose to use. Last night was Fajita night. I'm chopping up the onions and green bell peppers. It's all just starting to saute' and filling the air with an aroma I found to be pleasent. My five year old pulls herself away from Dragon Tales long enough to wander in the kitchen. She innocently makes the statement, "that smells nasty". Trying to supress a Gordon Ramsayesque response, I do my best Rachel Ray, "You're goin' to love it". She wasn't convinced. So when it came time to eat, I pulled a trick out of my wife's playbook. Disguising the chicken, peppers and onions by wrapping them in the tortilla so the filling couldn't be seen. She took one bite and had found her bliss. Expressing my disbelief at how much she liked it she said "don't know what else to say Daddy. How can I thank you?" Now, tell me... did I get outflanked?