Learning with GoofGirl

"Daddy..."

"What nina?"

"I shouldn't say this..."

"What is it? Did something happen at school?  Is someone being mean to you? Are you worried about something?"

"No, I don't want to say it now."

"You can't do that, now I'm worried. You know you can tell me anything. But, if you really don't want to tell me I understand."

SIGH.

"Daddy, sometimes I wish you weren't may dad."

But I'm a great dad, she always says me that! She even put it in writing.

"But I'm a great dad, you always say that. You even put it in writing!"

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything"

"No, please nina, you can tell me. I'm not upset."

I am upset, but I'm the grown-up here.

"Well Daddy,  you know how we're studying the industrial era. We had to write something we'd like to learn about it. And I couldn't think of anything because you've already told me so much about it."

"Oh no nina, the industrial revolution is awesome. We've barely started to learn about it.  There are all the different machines and the way they changed people's lives.  There were new political movements.  Tomorrow, write down that you want to learn about Samuel Gompers.  His name is Gompers, so he has to be fun to learn about."

"Daddy..."

"Samuel Gompers was interesting because... wait, I don't want to spoil it."

"...that's why I didn't want to say anything. Because whenever I tell you about something bothering me you start telling me what to do."

"Oh right. I'm supposed to just listen and agree with you."

"Exactly."

"Nina, I understand but sometimes I forget that.  Can I tell you something useful to know - boys have a lot of trouble with that.  See boys are from Mars and girls are from Venus..."

"But Daddy, I don't believe you came from Mars - you're from Uranus!"

Well done, Nina, well done.

GoofGirl Studies Astronomy (Best Read Out Loud)

Several years ago GoofGirl came home from pre-school, proudly announcing with a seriousness that only a four year old can muster:

We are studying astronomy and everyone had to choose a favorite planet to learn about.  I picked Uranus.

Uranus is a gas giant.  Did you know Uranus has rings?

Hey, what's so funny about Uranus? Stop laughing, don't you want to hear about Uranus?

OK then, I'll continue.  Uranus is blue-green colored and most of its atmosphere is methane gas.

What is wrong with you. Get off the floor and back in your seat so I can tell you about the moons of Uranus! Why aren't you proud that I know so much about Uranus?

Oh.

But that's the name of the planet, my favorite planet. If you can't discuss these things without giggling maybe you aren't grown up enough to study astronomy.

Father Goof Eaten by Tigers in India

SUBURBAN MARYLAND - While visiting India, FatherGoof, father of two, a resident of suburban Maryland, was eaten by a tiger. This is the first such incident since India launched its world renown tiger preservation efforts. According to the safari guide, FatherGoof actively sought to be eaten by the tiger, taking the safari three times in order to ensure he would come into contact with the elusive predator.

"He kept saying that it was his lifelong dream to be eaten by tigers. I thought he was joking, and stopped listening after a while," the safari guide, who's identity is being protected to prevent retribution, explained, "But when we finally found a tiger, he jumped out of the jeep and ran after the tiger yelling, 'Here kitty, yummy, yummy.' At first the tiger didn't seem interested, but he poured barbeque sauce on his head and chest and the tiger finally ate him. It didn't seem very hungry, more annoyed."

The incident threatened to further damage relations between the U.S. and India, but after a full investigation both nations determined that it wasn't really anyone's fault. The Indian tourism bureau, in an official statement explained, "Our tours of tiger preserves are completely safe. But if a tourist is deadset on being eaten by a tiger we really cannot prevent it."

A State Department source who preferred not to be identified showed reporters documents showing that FatherGoof had discussed his interest in being eaten by a tiger to U.S. diplomatic authorities on several occasions.

A Close-Knit Community Unsurprised

At the close-knit community of parents and students at the Jewish Day School where the little Goofs attend school, there was little surprise or despair that a community-member had been eaten by a tiger.

His wife MamaGoof observed, "Well I'm surprised. He was always talking about all these things he was going to do. He said he was going to build a catapult so he could hurl the kids to school and wouldn't have to drive carpool anymore.  He said he would finish his dissertation and get a real job.  He said he would do laundry.  He never did any of those things.  So I'm surprised he actually did this."

Several friends of the family noted that he had posted on Facebook and Twitter that "I'm going to India to fulfill my lifelong dream of being eaten by tiger" but that he posted "lots of crazy stuff on Facebook" so they didn't pay much attention, except to forward it to one another.

One student, with a pronounced Jewfro who claimed to be a good friend of his son GoofBoy stated, "FatherGoof is awesome. He was always telling us crazy stories in carpool, like the time he was giving blood and made the bag explode. Plus he blasted Tom Waits and translated Spanish radio for us. Now he was eaten by a tiger, that guy is amazing, like the coolest dude in 7th grade."

Sources confirmed that at the time of his devouring FatherGoof was in his forties and was not fluent in Spanish.

One friend of the eaten was distraught.  She was seen running around the Lower School campus, crying, pulling her hair and tearing her garments.  She was yelling, "My carpool husband! Who's going to pick up my kids now!"

Versions of Venison: On Autumn & Death

With school closed, I had charge of the little Goofs. I had work to do, but with the gorgeous fall weather I could not let them sit around all day and watch an entire season of Cupcake Wars (Amazon Prime has changed our life.)

So I insisted that there would be a late afternoon expedition.  We hadn't visited our favorite promontory for hurling rocks into the creek for sometime. (Although we had hurled rocks into other bodies of water fairly recently.)

Joined by the indominatable 3C, we did exactly that, I spent a lot of time playing on my phone - which in retrospect is a little ridiculous when you are surrounded by this:

3C hadn't joined us on one of our "throwing rocks into water" adventures, but was game. She got even more excited when they turned to launching logs into the creek because this required teamwork and coordination. (It's more fun to do than watch, as you can see.)

Confrontation
But, autumn days (like autumn itself) is all too brief. I didn't want us in the woods after dark (lest we truly learn what the fox says.)  So we turned home.  The trail goes under a major road near our home and close to the creek was a deer lying on the ground.

"Look a deer, I wonder what it's doing there?" 3C observed.

"It looks like it's sleeping," GoofBoy added.

GoofGirl is no fool. "It's dead. Why did it die? Why is it there?"

Thoughtlessly, I observed, "Maybe it was hit up on the road and was thrown into the air and landed here."

"That would have been an amazing YouTube video," GoofBoy exclaimed, then added, "Rough on the deer though."

"I'm sure the deer conducted a full investigation. CSI: Bambi, with deer wearing lab coats and with magnifying classes.  Did they drew a chalk outline around the corpse?" I riffed.

"Dad, I don't want to go on this trail anymore," GoofGirl stated flatly.

"Hey nina, maybe the deer died here of old age, after a long life."

"Why would the deer die here?" GoofGirl demanded.

"This was her favorite spot."

"Right, in all of these woods, why would this spot by a grubby bridge be a deer's favorite?" 3C chimed in.

"Well," I said, thinking quickly, "When she was a fawn and it rained she would come under here with her mommy and stay dry.  She always felt safe her.  Now, after living a long life and being a mommy to a lot of fawns and maybe even grand-fawns, she wanted to come back here one more time.  Then, she looked around at the woods and creek, thought about her life and had one last breath."

We walked on the trail.  3C and GoofBoy ahead chatting (possibly a first, ever) and GoofGirl held my hand.

"Daddy," she said, "I know the deer got hit by a car and died and I am kind of freaked out about it. But thanks for trying."

Bar Mitzvah Planning II: A Festival of Wonks

"You know buddy, I have some contacts.  I could call in some favors so you could have a star-studded bar mitzvah," I suggest as I drive him home from track practice.

"What are you thinking about Dad?" GoofBoy asks nervously (and not without reason.)

"What if you had your bar mitzvah party at the Brookings Institute!"

"Does it have anything to do with Brooks Robinson?" he asked warily.

"No, but you could meet Strobe Talbott!"

"Who?"

"He was the Deputy Secretary of State in the Clinton administion," I press on, "And then maybe you could have a special roundtable about Energy Market Regulations and Climate Change Policy! Wouldn't that be awesome?"

GoofBoy groans.

"You aren't really into domestic affairs, would you rather have a foreign policy bar mitzvah?  We could do it at the Atlantic Council.  I hear Brent Scowcroft makes balloon animals.  Well, not animals, but balloon figures of old foreign policy hands like, well - Strobe Talbot!"

Believe it or not, there is a method to my madness. If I wear him down, maybe we can do the bar mitzvah party at Dogfish Head! I don't know if his friends will get much out of it - but I know I will.  Too bad that while Judaism states that at 13 boys are counted as men, the right to drive doesn't come along with that.  It would be so handy if he could be my designated driver.

Bar Mitzvah Plannning I: Nerf Wars!

GoofBoy is in seventh-grade, which means it is annus bnai mitvahus: the year of the bar mitzvah.

GoofBoy frequently has two invitations a weekend, which means a LOT of parties. So be it, GoofBoy likes to party.  It also means we have to plan his bar mitzvah.

For many children the “performance” of reading from the Torah and delivering an appropriate lesson about the reading is an enormous source of stress.  But GoofBoy will have no problem.  He has an easy confidence and (thanks to years of Jewish day school) an impressive command of Hebrew.  But, while GoofBoy likes to party, we do not particularly like to plan parties.

Some of GoofBoy’s friends have had rather elaborate affairs (so I’ve heard, I haven’t seen since I’m not invited.)  I have heard tales of gaming tables, multiple DJs, and all you can eat sushi buffets.  GoofBoy has come home with bags of swag like an Oscar nominee.  Fortunately, a wonderful thing about boys is that they do not tend to be style conscious.  Boys, as a rule, tend to seek interesting ways to release energy.  Multiple high-end DJs are one method, but a pile of rocks will often do just as well.

So in that spirit, I had a simple brainstorm.  Fifty kids (girls are certainly invited, but I’m not expecting a lot of yeses from that quarter), fifty high-powered Nerfweapons and Rock Creek Park.  There are woods, cliffs, open fields, and a stream.  It would be epic.

(The pics give some idea of the varied topography.)

I came up with a few possible variations.

The Most Dangerous Game: Some kids are hunters, others are hunted. They would switch off until it was time for cake.

The Hunger Games: Only the winner eats – I really like this option since kosher catering is pretty expensive.

Basic Training: After the ceremony the kids change into battle gear, put on their Nerf vests and safety glasses, put their Nerf rifle on their shoulder and march to the park.

This is only the beginning.  I see dozens of boys charging at each other across an open field like in Braveheart (I could spring for some Nerf swords).  I see them re-enacting every war movie cliché ever, as one kid sacrifices himself, going down in a flurry of Nerf darts so the rest of his squad can live.  I see bicycle-riding cavalry, amphibious assaults, and maybe even some trench warfare.

GoofBoy’s friends are pretty keen on this (especially since the party favors will be advanced Nerf artillery), but my obsession with scenarios and battle planning has soured GoofBoy on this option. (Probably for the best, I have no idea how to get permits for this stuff.)

Back to the drawing board – but I think whatever I come up with next will make GoofBoy wish for the simpler times when I was just planning a Nerf battle.