Just before leaving

I had given her her last kiss, and was about to leave.

"Daddy," she whispered, "This is what I wrote."

I have no idea what she is talking about, but I watch and listen as she slowly starts to recite her writing.

"H....A......P......P.......B...P.B..P...B... no, P...new word"

She keeps on, "B....(pause - her mouth moves, eyes staring off)....R.TH...d.d..D.....A.. Ms. Renee. Ms. Kim wrote Renee on the board. Renee is really hard Daddy." She continues, filled with awe, "It has three "E"s." Her eyes are huge.

"Yeah," I say with feigned enthusiasm, "'R', 'E', 'N', 'E', 'E'." I spell for her. I now realize that she is talking about a birthday card she wrote for her principal.

"Three "E"s," she repeats not having heard anything I said, "And," with complete consternation, "Where are they? I mean, there aren't any "E"s!"

Knowing how she would spell Renee, I say, "Yeah, I mean, there is an "R" (I make the rrrrr sound), an "N" and an "A" -- where are the "E"s?"

She is in complete agreement.

I give her a kiss on the head, and tell her she's amazing.

Leaving, I say, "Sweet dreams Tahlia."

"Sweet dreams, Daddy."

But I already have them.

Not a good trick

Asher was climbing into his car seat today, and Mommy noticed that he was wearing a different shirt. Mommy decided to find out why.

"Asher," she inquired, "what happened to your shirt?"

"I got pee on it." He sat down in his seat.

"Was it your pee, or someone else's pee?"

"My pee." One arm was now in a strap.

"How did you get pee on your shirt."

"Alex," one of his classmates," Said it would be a cool trick to pee in the same urinal." He finished buckling himself. "But I peed on myself. So it wasn't a cool trick."

Bike riding

When he was three and a half, Asher asked to have his training wheels taken off. And he gave it a shot.

Although it was a tough go, mostly because he is like his dad in that he has to pay attention to everything that is going on around him, which results in a boy who is riding down an empty alleyway with his head whipping back and forth as his bike zigs this way and zags that way with a father shouting "Look forward! Look where you're going" just prior to him slamming on his breaks so his bike slides to the right like he is driving the General Lee just prior to approaching a bridge that they wouldn't be able to jump to come to a sudden stop.

For three days, he rode sans training wheels. Then, because he wanted to go "super fast" the wheels went back on.

Who is that child?

Today, Tahlia told Mommy that she was going to teach a song that she made to her music class. Mommy smiled and wished her luck.

She has created a song, it is called "Cherry Cherry Bim Bam". It has its roots in a Jewish song that she learned at her preschool, but she made up the rest. Over the summer, we have heard this song in varies stages of creation.

So how does it go?

"Cherry Cherry Bim Bam"

Cherry Cherry bim bam

Cherry Cherry bim bam

the mouse ran into the house

the mouse ran out of the house

the mouse ran on to a car

the mouse ran off of a car

the mouse ran back in teh house

Cherry Cherry bim bam

Cherry Cherry bim bam

Cherry Cherry bim bam the mouse

Mommy and I didn't expect that she would sing it. But, when she climbed into the car today, Mommy asked how music went. Evidently, she told Mr. O that she wanted to sing a song that she had made up. He asked the class if they wanted to hear a song that she had created, and the said yes. So, she sang it. By her account, after she finished singing Mr. O told them to clap, and they did.

Would Mommy have done this as a child, or I? No.

It's pretty amazing to see a child who is all her own.

What kind of man do you want to be

We were sitting on Asher's bed while at the beach in Duck, N.C. It was a new book about Jack's house and the real story behind Jack's house. You remember the original book:

"This is the house that Jack built. . ."

Anyway, we were reading the new book that actually reflects on the fact that someone else actually built the house for Jack but he got all of the credit.

Suddenly, he turned and looked up at me,
"Daddy, you're sweet."
"Thanks Asher," I replied, with a quick laugh. "You're sweet too."

And we kept reading. I was only about three words in when he turns to me again, interrupting with,
"Daddy, you're a good man."
I laugh, "Thanks Ash. You're a good boy."

And he snuggled into my arm, and we kept reading.

Pirates

Lately, Tahlia has become infatuated with pirates. We have pirate books and recently visited the beach, which I think has made her fascinated with them. This fascination grew exponentially the other day when, shortly after her rest time (naps are no longer) she asked me to make a pirate flag. Well, the flag happened, and was lashed to the couch, which, of course, became the pirate ship. Then, a map was made, followed by a hat -- black and adorned with the skull and crossbones. I was able to fashion the hat so that it sat on Tahlia's head properly -- not one of those newspaper hats, but with a slight tilt and everything. I even went so far as to create a sword for her. In the subsequent days, Asher also was given a sword that could second as a red jalapeño pepper, complete with a green handle, or stalk. The swords were not a big hit with Mommy, but, I felt if they were going to be pirates, they should probably be prepared to deal with other pirates, who were definitely going to have swords.

For several days, the pirate play went on. There was arrrrrging; there was shouting; there were scalawags. And after a while, there was enough.

The flag started falling off of the boat more and more, which would result in crying. Sometimes it was stolen by a small being who no longer longed to be a pirate. This scamp would snatch the flag, with no fanfare or flourish, and dash away, gleefully. In the wake of him, there would be a devastated-once-pirate (pirates, in general, do not throw themselves on the floor crying about a flag).

Although Tahlia was the self-proclaimed captain, the admirals of the much larger ship being driven through this life were growing tired of pirate games. For, with more reading, it started to become clear to the head pirate that pirates really aren't good people. Discussions were started about why people needed to walk the plank, or why did the pirates attack a ship and them make everyone get off prior to sinking it. And as there was a greater understand as to the type of people pirates were, there were behaviors that went along with acting like a pirate.

One day, Daddy was trying to get the captain to eat something. I didn't care what it was, but I was hoping that she would have a little variety in her diet. To that extent, I was trying to make sure that she ate something other than a second banana for the day. She was pretty set on eating a banana, so I thought I would just clarify something.

I asked, "Do pirates eat a lot of bananas?"

She looked at me, and with a look of incredulity, stated, "Daddy, pirates do what ever they want."

I guess we can move onto the next role play -- this one is clearly understood.

If you were four, what would you be?

If you were at the beginning of your life, and you could do it all over again, would you want to change the job that you have? I often think about the work that I do as a school teacher. While there are tons of emotional perks to the job -- influencing children's lives, helping them to learn and grow, watching them grow and mature, having them come back and thank me -- I am often in awe of the community's lack of financial support for teachers. When I think of Tahlia and Asher, I want them to chase their dreams, I want them to pursue that which will fill their souls and allow them to lead rich, full lives. As a pragmatist, I also want them to pursue something that will allow them to have the monitory freedom that will also allow them to do what they want -- for whatever that means. These are my thoughts -- I don't bestow them on the children -- the most they interact with them is when I grow brooding and silent.

Sometimes, however, Tahlia will let us know exactly what she wants to be:

We were driving down the road that leads to our house. It is a long stretch, and, as we headed home, the four of us were quiet, I'd like to think it was in anticipation of being home after a lot of travel -- more likely, though, it was because everyone was too tired to talk, or sing. Tahlia suddenly had a revelation:

"Daddy," she stated, "When I grow up, I want to be a paleontologist."
In my head, I start thinking about what this will mean for her -- jumping far ahead of the personal satisfaction one gains from chasing a dream. What will this mean for her family? Will she travel a lot and be away from her family? How will it pay? Will she be able to do other things she and her family want? Yes -- I know -- it is too far away.
"Oh," inquired Mommy, "You want to study dinosaurs?"
"No," She corrected, "I want to be a paleontologist-princess-mommy."

I guess my worries can wait -- she seems to have everything thought of already.