Wednesday, February 16, 2011

GoofBoy Growing

I've been writing about GoofGirl a lot lately. She is pretty awesome, and going on seven she is at a super-adorable age (and she knows it.) But GoofBoy is also a great kid: sensitive, tough, smart, and funny. But as he heads towards his second decade, he is moving away from mom and dad. He isn't a bitter teenager. He still likes his parents and talks to us, telling us (in exhaustive detail) about everything that he is up to.

When he was little I used to draw pictures on his lunch bag. Darth Vader, footballs, cars - that sort of thing. He liked it. I slacked off for a few years. But recently, after reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid I started again. Every day the Wimpy Kid's mom writes on his lunch bag:
Dear Greg,
I hope you have a happy, healthy day.
Love Mom
I thought I would do the same. So I began writing him sappy, cheesy sentiments. At first he appreciated it - ironically. But then, when he saw me get the marker as I was making his lunch he yelled, "DAAAAD! Why do you always have to write stuff on my lunch. It's SOOOO annoying."

We had also had a sweet little morning ritual. When he wouldn't get up, I would get in bed next to him, snuggle up, and bite him. For a long time he liked this, he even stayed in bed when he wasn't tired so I would do it. But recently it has become "SOOOO annoying."

At least he doesn't think I'm annoying - yet.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Bully for Her

GoofGirl's school is cracking down on bullying. In carpool I was handed a flyer about an upcoming anti-bullying program. GoofBoy and the carpool clan all had after school activities so it was just the two of us. She asked me about the flier and when I told her about she informed me that she had never been bullied.

"Is that because you are the bully?" I asked.

"No," she replied, horrified that I could think such a thing.

On the way home we discussed what just the two of us would do till mommy and her brother got home. It turns out she had plans.

"It is time for your beat down!" she announced, "because there is a new bad guy in town!"

"Are you bullying me?"

"No."

"Are you going to make me do everything you say and jump on me?"

"Yes!"

"Are you going to sit on my neck and steer me around the living room by pulling my hair?"

"Yes!"

"Are you going to make me give you horsey-back rides while hitting me in the tush with a wooden spoon and yelling 'Mush, mush!'?"

"Yes. Also, you have to give me piggy-back ride, don't forget."

"So maybe you are bullying me?" I asked.

She was silent for a moment before saying, "No, you're a daddy, you like it!"

She's got me there.

Monday, February 07, 2011

PuppyBowl Disappointments

GoofBoy, unsurprisingly, watched the SuperBowl. He was going to watch it with Carpool Buddy as a little celebration for Carpool Buddy's 10th birthday. This could not work out, since Carpool Buddy's dad is a Canadian and consequently does not understand that in America the Superbowl is way more important then bedtime consistency.

I should have watched with GoofBoy, male-bonding and all that, but I am not actually interested in football. So I watched the PuppyBowl with GoofGirl. It is even cuter then it sounds.

Besides tussling puppies, it features cheerleader chickens, a blimp piloted by hamsters, and best of all a half-time show featuring cats (way better then the Black-Eyed Peas).

GoofGirl really likes cats, so she asked me (inevitably), "When can we get a cat?"

"We can't get a cat. Mommy is allergic to cats."

"I never get what a want," she sulked.

This is a nice bit of divine justice, I spent much of my childhood demanding a dog, to which my mom responded, "Your father and brother are allergic to dogs."

"So?" I would demand.

"So, if we got a dog we would have to get rid of your father and your brother."

I didn't see a problem with that at the time, in fact I saw it as a win-win.

To head off this conversation, I tried to re-direct.

"You know when she was a little girl, Bubbe thought all cats were girls and all dog were boys," I told GoofGirl. Stories of her grandmother as a little girl are fascinating to GoofGirl.

"Hmmph," GoofGirl grunted, "Bubbe must have been pretty stupid. Is it because they didn't have the Internet?"

"You should ask her."

GoofGirl glared at me, "I'm not stupid! Maybe Bubbe will get me a kitten."

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Time to Read Elephant Small

GoofGirl is learning to read, which is pretty cool – although she is frustrated with it. She can understand complicated stories (she listened to the Harry Potter series with her brother). But the books she can read now are very simple and yet are a huge slog for her to get through.

This is pretty normal. I didn’t really learn to read until I was seven, and I’m a writer now! Living in region dominated by over-achievers where children can be tracked to special education if they aren’t reading by kindergarten – my story is a bit of PTA samizdat. In fact my tale has spread and anxious parents comfort themselves with it like early Christians reciting the catechism in the catacombs.

Anyway, GoofGirl has to read a book to her class. She picked Time for Bed Elephant Small. Before we got into Beverly Clearly, Judy Blume, and Barbara Park this was a bedtime favorite. As GoofGirl works her way through she also explicates the story for me (WARNING: If you are ever planning to read Time for Bed Elephant Small, read no further since what follows pretty much ruins it.)

“Daddy,” she explained, “I think the elephants are toys in a dollhouse. A girl is playing bedtime with them. That is why they have those seams and look like stuffed animals. And Clockwork Mouse, who Elephant Small chases before bedtime - he is a toy mouse. That's why he has a wind-up thing. At the end, when Elephant Mom opens the window so Elephant Small can see the moon. I think it is just a piece of paper with the sky and the moon painted on it and pasted to the dollhouse window.”

This clever interpretation had never occurred to me. She will be ready to read soon enough – but I’m not sure reading is ready for her.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

There's Something about a Stream...

It doesn’t seem possible, but going to the stream just got even better.

Nothing makes the little Goofs happier then a stream and we are fortunate to have one in walking distance. Somehow my kids always find an incredibly interesting activity that they can do indefinitely. On one visit my son attempted to block off part of the stream with rocks so that he could better observe the fish. My daughter drew pictures on rocks with mud. We have built rock bridges across streams to facilitate future visitors. It isn’t just about getting muddy – I usually don’t even let them go in, just play along the edges (sometimes I do, I’m not a monster!)
Any modest body of water will do, we often drive to other creeks, ponds, and reservoirs. At one, we made the acquaintance of another family. The dad was scaling the trees very fast, like a lemur. It turns out he is a tree professional. He loved climbing trees as a kid and now he gets to do it for a living. My children were intrigued and I was a little jealous.

On one long weekend, my parents took the kids to an amusement park for a day. They had a great time going on rides and eating junk food. The next I took them to a nearby nature center where the stream has awesome big rocks for climbing. As a bonus, I had them wear grubby shoes so they could actually do a little stream walking and wading. We stayed for hours. I asked them, “Which is better, “the amusement park or the stream at the nature center?”

They hedged in giving their answer, knowing that their grandparents had gone to great effort on their behalf. But they conceded that the stream was at least even with the amusement park. (This particular afternoon at the stream pushed ahead of just about anything when I let the little Goofs eat in the car – something that in general Mama Goof forbids.)

The stream doesn’t even have to have water in it. On one of our regular trips to California to visit los abuelos we went on a short hike. The little Goofs whined constantly. Their expressions of disapproval alternated between asking why we had come to this desolate forsaken place and demanding a snack – punctuated by regular refusals to walk any farther due to exhaustion. The “hike” was on a paved path and less then a mile and a half. But on the way back, we walked through a dried out stream bed. All fatigue disappeared as they scampered among the rocks, finding interesting stones, animal shells, and other treasures that my wife and I would need to conveniently lose before our flight home.

Winter Wonderland
The other day, I pressed the kids into joining me on my walk through the wooded park. We came to a part of the stream that was frozen over. The little Goofs were fascinated. We threw rocks at the ice to see if we could break it (we couldn’t.) We walked on it tentatively.
It was getting late. But the kids had brought headlamps we bought them for Hanukah (festival of lights!) and the woods weren’t scary at all. The next day, they demanded that I bring them back. So we returned. We made a real project out of trying to break the ice. We found big rocks and tossed them high into the air trying to puncture the surprisingly thick ice. We found a thin section the rocks could break through and watched the trapped air bubble up. But in many spots, the rocks just bounced off. GoofGirl wandered off and found isolated chunks of ice that she could pull out of the water. She built ice cairns on the side of the stream. We’ve since scheduled playdates where the highlight was a visit to the frozen part of the stream.

The best things in life are free, and are even better when they freeze.

Sunday, January 02, 2011

The Wright Gift for the Man Who Has Everything

My father, PopGoof is about to turn 70!  This is an occasion deserving of a great gift, but my father has it all - a good career, a loving wife, his health, kids, and (most importantly) grandchildren to spoil.  What do you get for the man who has everything?

Over the summer I took the Little Goofs to the exhibitions-collections/exhibitions/lego-architecture.html>National Building Museum which was hosting an awesome LEGO exhibit. The exhibit featured skyscrapers built with LEGOs as well as enormous piles of blocks for building.  GoofBoy was in heaven and I found breaking up discarded buildings enormously satisfying.  GoofGirl was less than enthralled, but she and I explored the rest of the immense and immensely cool NBM.

When it was time to go GoofBoy wanted to buy something.  There were LEGO kits to build world famous skyscrapers and GoofBoy began to beg.  But most of the sets were less than 100 pieces - not much of a challenge.  Then I saw the LEGO Fallingwater set with 811 pieces.  My dad loves the architect Frank Lloyd Wright (on my brother's college tour he insisted on adding Bradley University to the agenda so we could see all of the Frank Lloyd Wright houses in Peoria, Illinois.)  He has visited Fallingwater many times.


An idea began to form, Fallingwater would be the perfect gift for the man who has everything.

"Buddy," I asked, "would you like to build this with Pop?"


"I want to build it with you when we get home!"


"Trust me, do this project with your Pop - make an old man happy."

GoofBoy hated waiting, but months later they built it together and it was awesome.