Monday, September 03, 2007

Back to School I: Goofboy meets PowerPoint

My son headed back to school. The day before starting, they had a brief orientation day and since Goofgirl's school was also on hiatus she came along.

Orientation, we were told, includes a PowerPoint presentation. My daughter got excited, "PowerPoint Daddy! PowerPoint. I like PowerPoint!"

Little did she know.

So the parents, the kids, the teachers, and a few random people seeking stale cookies (including my daughter) sat in first-grade desks while the teachers explained what our children would be doing all day. Then the lights dimmed.

The PowerPoint described our children's schedules in excruciating detail (10:11 - 10:13 AM, locate places for circle time, 10:13 - 10:15 laugh at underwear exposed as children sit on the floor...)

The Powerpoint presentation explained, The School's Philosophy of Education in approximate 208 points. The presentation broke these down into Objectives, Goals, Themes, Values, and Capabilities. All of this was punctuated by pictures of very cute children (who I did not recognize from school) hugging each other. This was in sharp contrast to the children before me who couldn't keep their fingers out of their noses and ears.

There was some detailed discussion of the school's facilities, including locker dos and don'ts (no drugs - no firearms, but nothing about porn.) The grand finale was a reminder of where we should send our tuition checks.

I don't know if this has been studied, but PowerPoint has pretty much the same effect on kids as it does on adults. My daughter, my son, and his classmates were snoring softly. A great way to make a bunch of first graders be quiet.

We'll add it to their bedtime routine: a 37 slide presentation on Why it is Bedtime Now.

Friday, August 31, 2007

Momsense

Although I am full-grown (and perhaps still growing a bit in the wrong places) and appear - on first glance - to be a reasonable sort of adult, internally (despite having two kids of my own) I am still the gawky awkward 13 year old that everyone loved to hate. Some people, after a certain age, turn 39 every year. I was born 13 (it may seem impossible, but I was a moody, awkward, and inappropriate baby - somehow I just pooped at the worst possible time) and expect to stay 13 well into my 80s (when no doubt I will continue to poop at the wrong time.)

Yet women who look a great deal like they should by my mom's friends - that is women I am inclined to be deferential towards - come to me and ask my thoughts on things at playgrounds, ice cream shops, dog runs and other places people with children congregate. They ask my thoughts on area schools, entertainment activities, and products for children.

I answer politely (while wondering how they can possibly take my thoughts on anything seriously). Then they walk away nodding thoughtfully and I think, "I sure fooled them, they must have thought I was an adult - maybe I could get away with buying beer..."

Oddly, an alarming number of these moms have facial tattoos and tongue studs. None of my mom's friends had these accessories.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Latte Lessons

This may be obvious, but I learned it too late. No matter how much your child begs, do not give them a sip of your latte. Especially if it is just before boarding a cross-country flight.

Their little bodies cannot process caffeine and a five year old rocketing around an airliner at full speed could potentially be a hazard to civil aviation. You do not want to be responsible for the ensuing forced landing.

Trust me on this one, really.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Themes for Toilet Training

My daughter is learning to use the potty. This is a momentous occasion, and like all denouements requires dramatic theme music. After much discussion, in which both my son and daughter had votes, we selected Take it Easy by the Eagles.

My daughter ascends to her throne and tenses up as she tries to impress us (and earn a pez). But going potty shouldn't be a source of tension (in fact for many of us as we age it becomes a comfort.)

"Remember your song," I gently instruct and her little voice begins to warble:
Well I running down a road
to loosen my load
I got seventeen in my mind...

"Good job sweetheart, now..." I encourage and join in until she yells, stop daddy no singing.

Take it easy, take it easy
Don't let the sound of the big wheels
Drive you crazy
Lighten up while you can
Don’t try to understand
Just find a place to make your stand
And take it easy
It's the perfect song. All the right themes. I just hope I haven't set off anything Pavlovian where as an adult this song will give her such an uncontrollable urge to loosen her load that it may just drive her crazy.

I on the other hand will never again be smitten by a girl in a flatbed Ford.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

How to vote for me for the Blogger's Choice "Hottest Daddy Blogger"

The folks at Blogger's Choice have made voting extra hard. Normal, reasonably computer savvy people have been challenged to get their votes in. I wonder if Blogger's Choice is based in Florida?

Anyway, here is the full list of steps necessary to get your vote logged in. It is a hassle, and I am grateful for your follow through.

1. Go to the For Father's Only page on Blogger's Choice and click vote. It will ask you to either login or create a new account.

2. Fill out everything in the application (you can leave city and picture blank.)

3. They will send you an email (possibly in seconds, shouldn't take more than 30 minutes.)

4. Click the link in the email.

5. Click for your account page to complete registration

6. Put forfathersonly in the search bar and search.

7. Select it under the category "Hottest Daddy Blogger."

8. Vote - finally.

Thanks for staying with me through this. They don't make it easy.

A Sister's Envy

Like good, modern parents we carefully limit the amount of television our children see. With the exception of the occasional Scooby Doo marathon (I still argue it is educational) television is doled out my children in minute doses - the way most parents regulate candy or cookies.

Consequently, following the proven maxims of the economics of childhood, scarcity leads to jealousy. This explains why when I picked my daughter up from daycare the other day, but without her brother in tow, she looked at me suspiciously and asked: "Where's my brother? What's he watching?"