Continuing Education

Lying in bed early yesterday in a semi-stupor -- suffering the after-effects of two nocturnal post-bad-dream visits with my daughter -- my senses were assaulted by the abrupt arrival of my son. It was, of course, 7 a.m.; as I have exhaustively (and exhaustedly) documented, he is nothing if not reliable. I suppose I keep mentioning it much the same as any other survivor of trauma is compelled to rehearse the details in order to come to terms with the shock to the psyche. Of course, he's 8 years old, and it shows no sign of abating: it's probably time to move on to the next stage of grief.

As he leaped into bed beside me and forcibly dragged my arm around him for a Squeezy Hug*, I was struck by a thought. As well as a kiss, as he flung himself back out of bed and launched himself into his day.

* Someone really ought to tell his old babysitter Tina that he still calls it a "squeezy hug", as she always did, even though he hasn't even seen her for five years.

The thought, as ill-prepared as I was to receive it, was: I wonder how my day would go if I attacked it with the same gusto he does? He almost literally hits the floor running every day... in contrast to certain of the rest of us. OK, all the rest of us -- who tend to welcome the morning much the same way as Custer welcomed the Indians (or maybe vice-versa).

Then, as if by nuclear fission (although regrettably without the concomitant surge of energy), one idea became two: What other lessons have we gleaned since then (i.e., is there a blog in this)? I greatly enjoyed writing the first edition... and frankly, I thought it was some of my better work... but I'm hoping that at least someone in the house has learned something new.

I could probably easily summon up a list of the lessons learned that we could do without, such as "the most important thing in the world is who gets to go first", or "sticks and stones may break my bones, but I don't have to go outside to find a name to call you," but allow me to take the high road instead and seek the life-affirming....

• It's good to create something and share it. Our daughter always has a craft project going: not something out of a box or something a parent or teacher shoves in front of her, but an idea springing full-fledged out of that extremely busy brain. This evening, she used construction paper, markers, toilet paper, glue, and tape to create... Well, I can't really do it justice. You tell me; as near as I can tell, it's supposed to be a kind of fringed apron you can put around your neck and it kind of waves in the breeze when you move. She made it, and will proudly give it to, her little friend Ethan. Seen in that light, one's quixotic quest to publish occasional blog articles seems almost rational.
• Each day should include fresh air and exercise if at all possible (sunshine optional; we live in the Northeast). When they get home, the first order of business is always the snack, but this is followed immediately by the exodus to the outdoors. Since it's winter, they're deprived of recourse to the plastic bowl and pile of dirt about which I rhapsodized in the earlier installment... but there's plenty of snow, and almost anything in the garage can be pressed into service in a pinch. Brooms have been popular lately, and yesterday I poked my head out to find a keyboard, mouse, and set of speakers perched on a snowbank.
• It's nice to look good, but it's more important to be comfortable (with apologies to Fernando). My wife waited for a long time for a little girl she could dress up, who would love girly things... and much of the time she's still waiting. It's true that our daughter can 'style' with the best of them, proudly, but at the same time if left to her own devices she'd opt for her beloved "sports pants" 5 days or more per week. She is an enormous fan of anything "silky", which mom leverages to get her into many lovely & feminine ensembles. But may the Lord have mercy on us all if there's anything scratchy in today's wardrobe. She's ultrasensitive to anything that doesn't hit just right, and the resulting fits when a garment falls short have all the dogs in the neighborhood barking.

I forgot another important point: "do your best to give dear old Dad something to write about"...