Kite Flying

Kite Flying

Lazy Dad

Okay. I admit it. I never blog. It's really too bad...and sad. But to be fair, I regularly post to Facebook about you! So much has happened since the last time I wrote here. You are five now, and full of questions. To be honest, you are a little bossy too. You have an idea and your own idea about everything no matter how small. You think you have a better way to do it. I'm not sure why I'm surprised by this, though. From day one you've been trying to tell everyone around you what to do and how to do it. You are five now and finishing up your second year of pre-school. Last year your teacher at PCMS told us you would probably grow up to be a criminal if we didn't teach you some rules. For some reason they thought how you acted at four would be a life-long indication of your behavior at 16. No way, we said, look at how he was as a baby...uh, never mind. Regardless, your curiosity and desire to control your world along with strong independent thought doesn't mean you don't follow rules--in fact you actually do a decent job of following most rules--it's just that you don't abide by rules that make no sense to you. We moved you from PCMS to CMS where you met the most wonderful teacher. Mrs. Bridget is one of your favorites, and I can see why. She is kind and compassionate and treats you with respect. For about a week we went through this thing where you would not let me leave. You cried and cried and clung to me and, for some reason, would not let me leave. When Mrs. Bridget came in she got down on the floor with you, looked you in the eye and talked to you until you calmed down (and I was able to leave). Leaving you there crying was one of the most difficult things I've had to do. Since then you won't let anyone see you give me a hug and a kiss, so we have to go in to the hallway where no one can see you tell your daddy goodbye. I get it. Not so cool kissing your daddy goodbye, so I'll take what I can get. Oh yeah, I also have to wave to you in the window--Twice! Once from the parking lot and once from the car as I pull away. So, that's two schools in two years, and next year you're starting another--the N. Canton school right down the street. I think it will be fine. You'll be in class with other kids from around the neighborhood and I think you'll make some new friends you can actually hang out with and have play dates with. Okay, just a quick update since discovered the new Google interface for Blogger. I love you 260,000. Big family hug!

-Daddy

Some funny things you’ve said

Daddy, I want to learn karate. Yeah? Yeah. So I can beat-down Sutter.

We were playing super heroes tonight and, of course, G gets to assign the roles. G: Daddy, you can be Slow-Moving Man. ME: Well, that doesn't seem like a very beneficial super power. What's the advantage to moving slow? G: I'll be Super Fast Man and Slow Moving Man can be my nemesis. That means bad-guy, daddy. ME: I know what nemesis means.

Gabe's friend Sutter turns three this month. Tonight we asked Gabe what he want to buy Sutter for his birthday. "I don't want to get him a present," Gabe said. "Just love. And, well, a yellow Transformer."

So today I was in the backyard cleaning up dog poo and I noticed Gabe walking around with his pants down around his ankles. Me: "Hey buddy, whatcha doin?" Gabe: "Pulling my pants up." Me: "Yeah? Why are your pants down kiddo?" Gabe: "Well, actually, daddy, there's one more poop to clean up." Me: "Yeah?" Gabe: "Yeah, I ...pooped under the tree." Me: "Why, did you poop under the tree?" Gabe: "So you can't see me."

Today we went to brunch at Vegiterranean and Gabe wouldn't eat his food so Chris asked how long it would take to make spaghetti. Not long, was the answer. Then Gabe asked, “How long will it take to make Chipotle?”

Gabe: Daddy, did you know those tea-baggers are after President Obama? Me: Yeah, buddy, I do. Gabe: Can you believe it? President Obama is a crime fighter. Right daddy?

The sweet walk from the car to sleep.

Hey buddy-

You fell asleep in the car again. You always do when it’s after 6:30 and I pick you up from the D’s. Daddy, is this Jack Johnson, you ask. No buddy, Coldplay. Can you play Jack Johnson? Sure, kid. Daddy, I like Jack Johnson. Me too buddy.

I want to be where the talk of the town
Is about last night when the sun went down
And the trees all dance
And the warm wind blows in that same old sound

Turn it up daddy.

And the water below gives a gift to the sky
And the clouds give back every time they cry
And make the grass grow green beneath my toes
And if the sun comes out
I'll paint a picture all about
The colors I've been dreaming of
The hours just don't seem enough
To put it all together
Maybe it's as strange as it seems

And it plays until we get home and I pick you up from the car seat—I love this more than anything—and I reach in under your coat to hold your body next to me and carry you in through the front door, up the stairs and put you in bed. I never knew how someone has their own smell, but you do. And oh how you’re so big now. Four. It’s hard to believe, watching you grow so fast. You make me smile, you make me cry, you make me laugh, you make me already miss you as you were yesterday.

I try to take a picture of you in my mind. Smart, cute, funny, curious.

Later you wake up and sneak downstairs and we watch Star Wars and you let out the most wonderful excited laugh of pleasure when the light saber battle begins and it’s worth it that mommy might be upset with me that I let you watch Star Wars. You fall asleep on my arm and I get to carry you upstairs again. A smile on your face.

Climbing the Rock Wall

The fresh air is good for us and keeps us healthy.

Hey Kiddo-I Love Dirt and I hope you do too.

Actually, I Love Dirt is the name of a book I bought. It’s 52 activities to help parents and kids discover the wonders of nature.

The book is divided into seasons and weeks—one activity for every week. This weekend we worked on one from the fall chapters. Number 28: Time Out. Time Out means time outside away from the TV, computer and air conditioner (although this weekend was cool—in the 70s). The point is to do things outside that you normally do inside like story time, meal time, play time, in the car, hopscotch and hula hoops and jump ropes. We didn’t get to all of those, but that’s okay. We’ll start slow and work our way up.

Friday night we went to First Friday in downtown Canton and played catch for about half an hour and then walked around the crowds and visited some of the shops. After one of the hottest Augusts I can remember (days spent mostly at the pool), it was nice to get outside and not sweat buckets.

Saturday we drove with the windows open (but only for about 15 minutes—it’s really windy at 50 MPH). Then on Sunday we spent a couple of hours at Boetler Park--your favorite. We walked the path and stopped at a park bench to read The Glove of Darth Vader (a Star Wars universe book). While we walked there were grass hoppers everywhere, and we saw several butterflies, and a couple of your Moodah friends (white moths).

On the playground you met some new friends and chased them around and then, as usual, refused to leave. You never want to leave the park—you just want to play and play and play. We’ll be back, I tell you, back soon. Before we leave you try to set up a date with the blond-haired little girl. “Come back the next time they’re open, okay?” You tell her. “You come back and we’ll come back too, okay?”

We’ll be back, kiddo. I promise.

I love you,
Dad

Joey and Wendy

When putting away your toys, I try to adhere to the established system as I understand it, and make sure all the toys are stored in the proper bins. But the interpretation differs between mommy and me, and I don’t always get the toys in their ordained location at the end of the day.

For example, I try to chunk your toys together in big categories. To me, Rescue Heroes all go together. The Rescue heroes are big—they take up an entire wall with their motorcycles, boats, spaceships and command centers. Multiple pieces, strings you pull and shoot, talking robots and a variety of missions. Rocky Canyon is your current favorite, but we found a cool Warren Waters at a yard sale this summer. The boys (and now one girl—Arial Flyer), and their assorted accessories, take up three bins. For the most part each toy has a corresponding backpack that performs some special task, and there are extra packs for the non-equipped Rescue Heroes. The backpacks are capable of a wide variety of tasks. There’s a jackhammer (for Jack Hammer); a grappling hook (for Rocky Canyon [of course]), a para-glider, a personal helicopter and a fire hose (to name a few).

When putting the toys away at the end of the day, if the toys had their choice, the Rescue heroes would be content on piling into a bin together regardless of which one is with the other. This isn’t true for all toys.

When Joey and Wendy—the couple that came with the tree house—arrived this Christmas, it was a completely different story. As soon as I unpacked them to assemble the house, I could tell these two had had enough of each other. Maybe it was long nights in freezing weather crossing the Atlantic or a year in a warehouse in China on the back of some forgotten shelf. Who knows? Either way, the whole time they were stuffed together in Styrofoam with only each other to talk to. For some toys an experience like that makes them closer, or at least friends, but not these two. Wendy wanted more than Joey had to offer—a mid-century modern design tree house with a trap door is pretty cool, but she had stars in her eyes.

It was obvious the minute the Rescue Heroes showed up to help put the house together. Wendy was drawn like a magnet to them. It’s easy to guess what happens when a small town girl from a village in China meets world famous Rescue Heroes. And it didn’t matter that most of them were clones assembled for manual labor. Wendy was infatuated.

Once the house was done Wendy and Joey posed for some photos together, but the minute I turned my back Wendy was off with one of the Rescue Heroes, leaving Joey alone.

Even though I knew this as soon as the tree house was up, I tried to deny it. Why should I interfere with the lives of your toys? Who am I to help them with their problems? So I forced Joey and Wendy together, but every time I picked up the toys after that, they were on opposite sides of the room. Now I know they don’t walk and talk, but maybe they do have lives. And maybe some of those lives have drama. Yeah, yeah, I get it, they’re toys—what do they have to complain about?

I definitely blame Wendy.

So I gave in. Now Kyle sits in a basket on top the toy shelf. The shelf can be a prominent position or a place for rubbish, depending on the day and who cleans up. Joey soon met Recycle Kyle and then other prominent toys: Einstein, Spider Man, the singing Frog (a classic from your baby days) and the Stormtrooper. Good conversation between Joey and the others on top of the shelf took the place of the action other toys experienced on the ground saving other toys from volcanoes, fires, floods and monster attacks. No, not a real exciting life, but for Joey it helped him relax and deal with his hurt inflicted by Wendy. Mostly he used yoga and meditation.

At first Wendy got around. This was my fault—some days I just tossed everyone together. No logic, no consideration for the packing plan, just pure chaos. For Wendy this was good. She was excited by the fact that she might end up in a basket full of Rescue Heroes or super villains at the end of the day.

Daytime she showed up during play, but always with a different boy toy. Joey watched from up on high, happy to be done with her, but worried about her none-the less. And it was transparent to the Rescue Heroes too. Toys like Jake Justice and Billy Blazes can’t be swayed by a doll like Wendy. They are too public. Too big. The other toys look up to them. They have to maintain an image. It wasn’t long after that new rules from Billy Blazes cracked down on Wendy and the one or two groupies the boys did have. All business was the decree. No tramps.

After Billy Blazes declared Wendy off-limits, Kyle and Joey were able to talk the other toys into ignoring her. It wasn’t hard. Most of those toys are simple-minded things from one to two years ago like the block with a picture of the ocean and the word “blue” in English, Spanish and French--just not very bright toys. Eventually Wendy quickly grew tired of these toys and moved in with the bin of misfits.

All of this was happening as the Imaginext Batman and Joker slowly took over the playroom. At first it was just Batman, Robin, the Joker and Superman. Then the Batcave, the various Batmobiles, and the other super villains. These heroes and villains hatched all sort of plans—kidnapping, extortion, bribery—you name it they were doing it. In the end, though, they were always able to go home together and be friends--unlike Joey and Wendy.

As slightly bigger but random garage sale superhero figures arrived--worn out toys just happy to have a second home—the Imaginext boys welcomed them (something about mass produced toys that make them easy to get along with). They worked together, they played together and they fought together. Even so, as expected, the newer and younger toys conducted most of the action.

Soon after, Einstein joined the pack of superheroes. I introduced him as a super villain—a corrupt version of Einstein from Chinatown looking to support a bad habit of one kind or another. I told the Joker he could help them build an A-bomb, but that was a bit too much for the Imaginext Joker (and to be fair to the Einstein toy, he would have done it to fit in, but it isn’t what he wanted to do). The other villains couldn’t take the knock-off Einstein seriously. His pot-belly, crazy hair and propensity to drone on and on without really ever saying anything the other toys understood made him an outcast. Eventually he too went to live with Kyle and Joey on top of the toy shelf.

And that’s how it is today. You have other baskets with books, puzzles, and costumes (a pirate, two Batman masks and capes, Superman, Hunter S. Thompson, Spiderman), but there’s no drama there. The worse thing that might happen is that a piece of wooden watermelon gets put with the plastic baseballs, or a mask gets put with stuffed animals (who mostly have zero personality—with the exception of maybe Tigger and Miss Peggy). No, the real drama is with the more complex toys. Toys capable of taking over the world, or befriending dragons, or capturing Superman with green plastic kryptonite.

As for Wendy, she currently lives in a random bin stuffed with older toys—none of the superheroes want much to do with her any more. I think she’s been with Lex Luthor once or twice, but even he doesn’t keep her around long and he’s famous for, well, the low I.Q. level of the women around him.

Now there’s a new bin for the bigger, badder super heroes and their villains—the one who WILL use Einstein’s bomb building capabilities at he drop of a hat. I don’t think Einstein will comply—he’s found his place among friends. But if his position slips and he finds himself stuffed in a bin with three or four other cast aways…well who know what might happen? Especially if he has to listen to Wendy’s boring stories over and over, day after day.

Hello three year old.

Dear Batman-

I hope you are well and the Joker, Bad Penguin or Mr. Freeze haven't got you yet. You are three and obsessed with super heroes. It's funny because before you were born I found a sign that reads "I believe in super heroes" and it hangs in your room. I didn't know at the time how obsessed you'd be with super heroes once you discovered them.

Me you and mommy are always in the "bat mobile" (our CRV) either running from or chasing the Joker, or Sandman or some other made up bad guy and his lackies or henchmen. Your toys all substitute for super hero tools. Batarangs, Wolverine's claws or "shooters," although we try to discourage you from using shooters (guns) as much as possible. Endless games of "getting" the Joker or Doctor Octopus (although it doesn't quite sound like that when you say it), keeps us all running around the house.

In addition to superheroes, in the last year we've read the third and final book in the City of Ember series, Peter Pan, The Indian in the Cupboard and The Mysterious Benedict Society. You've also really started talking this past year. Actually, you never stop talking. You wake up in the morning, go downstairs and yell "Mommy" at the top of your lungs so she'll come get you. If you are not playing with your Rescue Heroes or Batman, your watching Rescue Heroes, Backyardigans or The Upside Down Show on TV.

Things around the house have been difficult since July when Kesey was diagnosed with cancer. It seems everything is on standby as we wait to see what happens. Combined with Millie, our house sometimes feels paralyzed. We're locked in one room most days and for some reason don't really get outside much. I think it's frustrating for all of us. Despite all my grand ideas before you were born, I still think you watch too much TV. It's rare for you to have friends over, and when they do come, they don't stay long because the dogs bark non-stop. We only have one car, so the only place you go to is your Grammy and Grampy's. But you always make me smile. Usually you give me a big hug and tell me you love me. There is nothing better than that.

Some things you say:
Yesternight
I lub you
Not now, maybe later
I not love it
I sure do love you.

Dad, read the book about how Batman and Robin became partners. We don't have that book buddy, it's at the D's. Then read it from your imagination daddy.

Me (as Robin) on another mission with Gabe (as Batman) and Christina (as Spiderman) to "get" the Joker. Apparently there is a secret message written on the inside of the Starbucks cup sleeve that provides Batman with the whereabouts of the Joker’s lair and his "lackies." It’s somewhere upstairs.

We should take Kesey to see the wizard so he can "take all that bad stuff out of Kesey and then tape his leg back on."

I'll miss Kesey.

I sure do lub you Spiderman.

I lub you too, Space Monkey.

Dear Space Monkey-
You are growing up too fast. Please stop. Or at least help me slow down my daily life to notice all the things you are learning. And man, oh man, are you smart. You can count to twelve (at least), you can say the alphabet (with help) and you can hit a ball across the yard when it’s launched from your tee-ball batting practice machine.

I continue to be amazed by your athletic prowess. You run and kick the soccer ball, catch the football in mid hike after yelling “hike, hike” and you continue to improve your baseball skills. For baseball you have your own set of rules. Everyone wears hats (forward for baseball, backwards for football). If there are two people, one is always the pitcher, one is always the batter. If there are three, someone plays catcher. You say “play ball,” tap the bat on the ground, and then usually hit the ball before your get three strikes, running the bases and sliding into home.

You do other things that make me love you. Your game this morning is “someone got you daddy” where you run up form behind, put your arms around me and make me guess who it is. You love being thrown in the air and landing on the bed. Recently you’ve started jumping off of everything.

While this might be embarrassing to you later, you’ve been constantly picking your nose and eating boogers. Grammy told you “Mater (from Cars) doesn’t pick his nose,” and you told her, “Mater doesn’t’ have these (showing her your hands) or this (pointing to your nose).” I know it’s a constant source of embarrassment for Momma and I, so I hope I can pay you back.

You’re welcome.

You love everyone, but you say it as “lub.” In the morning you wake up, roll over, put your arm around me, give me a kiss and say “I lub you too, daddy.” Sometimes you just curl up next to me, or grab my arm and put it around you. You love Momma, you love the D’s (Grammy and Gramppy), MaMaw and Grandpa Tom, Zoë, Frankie, Millie and Kesey. Yesterday you told me you love the neighbors. With other kids you try to have a hug fest, although not all other little kids like to be hugged as much as you.

Sometimes when you are riding on my shoulders and want to get my attention you lean over, put your face in mine and say Daddy! Over and over until I answer. Sometimes, even though there is plenty of room, I say duck! when you’re up there and we go through the doors into a store. I just like to have you close to me.

You talk nonstop and I don’t always understand what you are trying to say. Lately you take your time and pause, searching for the right word before you speak. Sometimes you say Uh, Uh, Uh, over and over until you get out what you want to say, although I’m not sure where you get that.

It’s been almost a year since I last posted, and while I never thought this blog would be filled with daily observations, I had hoped I would post to it more than I have. I hope it doesn’t mean I’m a bad daddy. I don’t think it does. It just means it’s easy to get busy and forget about the little details that will help me remember later. Don’t get me wrong, I’m here. I hope I’m around more than my own father was around for me. That’s a big worry, you know, that I won’t be a good dad. I probably spend too much time thinking about that.

I hope you don’t really mind being called space monkey. I like it as a nickname. When I call you that, you say, “not space monkey, Daddy, just Gabe.” You’re right. Just Gabriel, that’s enough.

I lub you too, Space Monkey.
-Daddy

Comfest 2008

Obama

Comfest Girlfriend

Big Smile


Todd Love

Family Photo

Puppy Love

D'Arcy Love

High Five

Mom Love

I'm With the Band

Little Baseball Player

Dear Gabriel-
You are really starting to turn into a little person with so many opinions about everything. For some reason you are obsessed with baseball. I’m not sure where this comes from. I don’t play baseball. Mom doesn’t play baseball. But for some reason you love it, and you’re pretty good at it. You throw overhand, put a mitt on and try to catch and can hit the ball across the room. If you are wearing a hat or helmet--your Bob the Builder safety helmet is your favorite batting helmet (although you'll have to ask you mom what happened to the yellow one we bought at Target and took to the movies) you throw it to the ground and start running around in circles. We call it running the bases. It’s really cute. You put one hand behind you and look over your right shoulder and run around the room (although at this point you run the opposite way). Your pitching noise—when asked—is a combination of a swoshing sound combined with an arm movement. Sometimes when you wear one of my hats, you turn it around backwards and peer through the small hole in the back—I think you pretend it’s a batting helmet. But it’s strange. You don’t like anyone to wear their hats crooked. If they do, you say No, and try to correct it so it’s facing forward.

You have at least three different bats. One of them is a big-boy bat about three feet long, but we have to hide that one in the garage because it’s too long and you have a tendency to hit anything around you with it. Your other favorite bat is the carrot bat Grammy found in the free bin at a garage sale. We would have paid eight dollars for it, but it was free (along with a free carrot golf club which Millie has since ate). You have several sets of mitts and various sizes and types of balls.

You also love to golf, although at this point in time golf is really second to baseball. But you can hit a golf ball (plastic, of course) across the room. Early this week you use some coasters to set up a “hole” in the living room and made mom stand up and putt for half an hour.

I’m not sure, but I think this love of sports has to do with the fact that we’ve watched just about every OSU game since you were born (including MSU v. OSU on the day you were born) and the playoffs (Indians v. Red Socks) last year.

Fall will soon be here.

Love, Dad