With two and a half hours remaining before kick-off of the Super Bowl, I took my eight-year old to a batting cage for his first official practice of the spring season. Practice had originally been scheduled for the ball field , but rain and soggy conditions had necessitated the move inside.
With an hour on my hands, I looked for an empty spot at the tables outside the cages. Other parents of the Mill Creek Pee Wee AA Yankees were already assembled. I’d met only one of them before, meaning I had a whole new group to get to know. It’s always fun, sitting with the other parents and watching the kids, because you now have a common bond of cheering for the same team.
The topic of the conversation, oddly, was football, but not the kind you would expect. Yes, their was the Super Bowl, but little league football registration is in late March. As my 8-year old son wants to play football, I spent most of the time learning the details of what to expect.
However, I was momentarily brought back to baseball by a situation I didn’t expect. One of the team Moms was confirming with kids and parents the sizes of jerseys and pants. For jersey numbers, she’d gone to the line and asked each kid. When I saw number 14 next to my son’s name, I questioned it.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “When we registered him, he wanted to be #11, after Kenshin Kawakami, the Braves Japanese pitcher.
The woman glanced back at her paper. “Well, I went through the line. That’s what he said.”
I got up from my spot on the bench and headed over to where my son was waiting his turn to enter the cage. I knelt down, so I could look him in the eye.
“I need to ask you something. What number do you want be again?”
“Fourteen,” he said, nodding.
“Are you sure? You told me before you wanted to be #11. Don’t you want to be Kawakami?”
My little guy shook his head. “Naah, I wanna be #14.”
“OK. Who’s #14?”
My son didn’t answer, so I pressed him again. “You can tell me. Who’s #14?”
He hesitated and then finally answered. “Nobody.”
“Nobody? You don’t want a number of another player?”
He looked at me and said, “No, Dad, I just want to be myself for a change.”
I had to admit. It was the best reason I’d ever heard of for choosing a number.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Shooting for the Moon
My second grader has a month-long project for school. He has to go out each night and look for the moon, check its phase, and record it on his chart. He remembers the assignment each night, though he remembers it late. Still, he gets excited about making a mark on his worksheet.
However, we’re on Day Four of the assignment and we’ve run into a snag we didn’t expect. We haven’t seen the moon.
I went out with him on the first night of the assignment and walked around the house. Nothing. I first thought it was a new moon (and thought what a stupid day to start the assignment), but then I went on-line and checked. Full moon expected.
Just with the thick clouds we couldn’t see it. I looked in the distance and could see one section of the clouds was much lighter, I knew the moon was there. But, it didn’t help. My little guy just wrote cloudy on his paper, hid a mournful look, and went to bed. Night two was pretty much the same. More thick clouds, but no moon, which produced a sad little boy.
On the third night, we were greeted with stars. I was ecstatic and knew my second grader would be, too. We went out to get our first glimpse of the “cold hearted orb that rules the night,” as the Moody Blues say.
Still nothing.
The main street in our neighborhood rolls up and down. Some houses are elevated. Others not. Our house is in low spot. We couldn’t see the moon. It was too low in the sky and not in our field of vision. My son wrote “too low in the sky.”
While at work on Day Four, I resolved to take the little guy on a drive. I was determined he would see the moon. The rain and clouds had other ideas. He wrote “cloudy” again on his sheet.
With 26 days to go, I know we will eventually have nights where he can see the moon. However, if this continues. I know he won’t get the full benefit of the exercise. I could show him on computer, but would that help?
Any suggestions?
However, we’re on Day Four of the assignment and we’ve run into a snag we didn’t expect. We haven’t seen the moon.
I went out with him on the first night of the assignment and walked around the house. Nothing. I first thought it was a new moon (and thought what a stupid day to start the assignment), but then I went on-line and checked. Full moon expected.
Just with the thick clouds we couldn’t see it. I looked in the distance and could see one section of the clouds was much lighter, I knew the moon was there. But, it didn’t help. My little guy just wrote cloudy on his paper, hid a mournful look, and went to bed. Night two was pretty much the same. More thick clouds, but no moon, which produced a sad little boy.
On the third night, we were greeted with stars. I was ecstatic and knew my second grader would be, too. We went out to get our first glimpse of the “cold hearted orb that rules the night,” as the Moody Blues say.
Still nothing.
The main street in our neighborhood rolls up and down. Some houses are elevated. Others not. Our house is in low spot. We couldn’t see the moon. It was too low in the sky and not in our field of vision. My son wrote “too low in the sky.”
While at work on Day Four, I resolved to take the little guy on a drive. I was determined he would see the moon. The rain and clouds had other ideas. He wrote “cloudy” again on his sheet.
With 26 days to go, I know we will eventually have nights where he can see the moon. However, if this continues. I know he won’t get the full benefit of the exercise. I could show him on computer, but would that help?
Any suggestions?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Passing On the Nerd Gene
One of my favorite movies, admittedly, is Revenge of the Nerds. In it, a fraternity of geeks takes on a fraternity of jocks for campus superiority. The nerds are battling for respect while the jocks are fighting to keep the “beautiful people” running things. At the end of the movie, the Nerds defeat the jocks in a campus competition and take over the Greek system. The jocks respond to their loss by trashing the nerds frat house. The movie ends at a pep rally, where one of the nerds is given a microphone. The head nerd gives a roaring speech about how many people might have themselves been thought of as a nerd at one time, inviting those who were to come down off the stands and join them, “No one will really be safe until nerd persecution ends.”
The one thing that always got to my friends and I during that last scene is when the entire band comes down off the stands and joins the nerds.
Why did this bother me?
Well, as you may have guessed, I and most of the friends I hung out with, were in the band. (“No, not the band,” we screamed.)
So, it was with great joy recently that I attended my sixth grade son’s first band concert. It was a wonderful evening with lots of proud parents. My son, who loves practicing on his clarinet, couldn’t get rid of his smile. He was having a good time.
After the concert, we took pictures of him and his best friend, a nice kid in the percussion section. It reminded me of me. I was in the drum section during my band years and my best friend played clarinet.
I don’t know if my son will do all of the things with band that I did. In high school, I played in marching band, jazz band, and a local orchestra. (Yes, I even went to band camp).
I hope he continues to enjoy it.
And I can relax, knowing I have successfully passed on my nerd gene to the next generation.
The one thing that always got to my friends and I during that last scene is when the entire band comes down off the stands and joins the nerds.
Why did this bother me?
Well, as you may have guessed, I and most of the friends I hung out with, were in the band. (“No, not the band,” we screamed.)
So, it was with great joy recently that I attended my sixth grade son’s first band concert. It was a wonderful evening with lots of proud parents. My son, who loves practicing on his clarinet, couldn’t get rid of his smile. He was having a good time.
After the concert, we took pictures of him and his best friend, a nice kid in the percussion section. It reminded me of me. I was in the drum section during my band years and my best friend played clarinet.
I don’t know if my son will do all of the things with band that I did. In high school, I played in marching band, jazz band, and a local orchestra. (Yes, I even went to band camp).
I hope he continues to enjoy it.
And I can relax, knowing I have successfully passed on my nerd gene to the next generation.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Sad Songs
In the tune, “Sad Songs” by Elton John, there is a line that says “When all hope is gone, sad songs say it so much.”
I bring it up as there are a lot of sad songs I hear on the radio each day. But, for me, one of the saddest songs ever is “Cat’s In The Cradle,” sung by the late Harry Chapin. The song has four verses. The first one is about when his child is born. The father is so busy that he misses his son learning to walk and also misses a lot of the talking. It ends with a toddler telling his Dad he’s going to be just like him when he grows up. In the second verse, the child is now ten years old., He receives a new ball and invites his Dad to play, but Dad was still too busy. The child said it was okay and still talked about growing up “just like his Dad.”
In the third verse, the son comes home from college. His Dad invites him to sit and chat. Instead, the son borrows the car and goes out.
In the final verse, the Dad is retired and the son has his own family. The Dad calls his son and asks about getting together. However, a new job and sick children prevent the son from having time to meet his father. The last line of the verse is “And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me. He’d grown up just like me. My boy was just like me.”
I was reminded of this song recently by my eight year old son. My eight-year-old likes me to tuck him in each night. It’s a little thing, but it’s very important to him. Most of the time I can, but sometimes I’m busy. I always tell him I’ll be a few minutes, but sometimes it gets late and he falls asleep waiting for me. A couple of nights ago was an instance where I was too late. When I went back to his room the next morning to check on him before going to work, I moved the blankets, which were twisted all around him. Then, I picked up his bear off the floor and put it back in bed with him. He woke up, looked at me, and said “Good night, Daddy.” He didn’t realize it was morning.
Life does call and I know there are things I need to do. However, whatever I’m doing, I always need to ensure that I‘m never too busy to tuck my son in.
I bring it up as there are a lot of sad songs I hear on the radio each day. But, for me, one of the saddest songs ever is “Cat’s In The Cradle,” sung by the late Harry Chapin. The song has four verses. The first one is about when his child is born. The father is so busy that he misses his son learning to walk and also misses a lot of the talking. It ends with a toddler telling his Dad he’s going to be just like him when he grows up. In the second verse, the child is now ten years old., He receives a new ball and invites his Dad to play, but Dad was still too busy. The child said it was okay and still talked about growing up “just like his Dad.”
In the third verse, the son comes home from college. His Dad invites him to sit and chat. Instead, the son borrows the car and goes out.
In the final verse, the Dad is retired and the son has his own family. The Dad calls his son and asks about getting together. However, a new job and sick children prevent the son from having time to meet his father. The last line of the verse is “And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me. He’d grown up just like me. My boy was just like me.”
I was reminded of this song recently by my eight year old son. My eight-year-old likes me to tuck him in each night. It’s a little thing, but it’s very important to him. Most of the time I can, but sometimes I’m busy. I always tell him I’ll be a few minutes, but sometimes it gets late and he falls asleep waiting for me. A couple of nights ago was an instance where I was too late. When I went back to his room the next morning to check on him before going to work, I moved the blankets, which were twisted all around him. Then, I picked up his bear off the floor and put it back in bed with him. He woke up, looked at me, and said “Good night, Daddy.” He didn’t realize it was morning.
Life does call and I know there are things I need to do. However, whatever I’m doing, I always need to ensure that I‘m never too busy to tuck my son in.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Sweatin' With The Youngies
It was over dinner Sunday night (and I’m thankful that we always eat dinner a family, even if my younger son always ends up saying grace with his mouth full), that my wife asked me if I wanted to join a gym.
“I think the place may be running a special. Ten dollars a month isn’t bad.”
“I know,” I said. “I just wonder if I'll have the time?”
“Well, you should do something. You could stand to drop a few pounds. The doctor said so.”
I looked down at my slight paunch and knew she was right. I’m not fat, but I don’t want to keep growing in the stomach.”
“Dad,” my younger son piped in, “if you go to the gym, I want to go, too.”
“You already have a gym,” my wife said. “It’s called recess.”
“It’s been too cold, Mommy.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she responded. “You still get exercise.”
“I know,” he answered. “Daddy, you can use that movie you have with the exercise girl, the one that I used to do with you.”
Exercise girl? My wife mouthed, wondering what video I was showing the kids when she wasn’t home.
“Pilates,” I said,
My wife nodded and then her head perked up. “I know. You can do exercise TV on cable.”
“We can do what?”
“Exercises. There are free videos on TV.”
With dinner over and the table cleared, we began searching our cable company’s “On Demand” feature. Normally, we only use this for movies, as it was good for both free ones as well as ones where we know even buying it on DVD is still too high a price. But I’d had no idea there was exercise videos as well.
We looked first for a short video to get into the spirit. There were all sorts of categories. Basic toning. Cardio. Carmen Electra (I know what that one is. Could never watch it with my kids), as well as walking videos. We scrolled through the toning videos, choosing one for basic abs and thighs, as I was silently thankful that my kids didn’t ask me to explain some of the more interesting titles. We spent 15 minutes, getting some kinks out of our muscles while my wife and I moved the couch to give us room. It had definitely been awhile.
“Kick in, not out.”
“Arms up.”
“Crunch.”
“Stay in rhythm.”
“Mommy stop laughing.”
I looked over at my wife. “Honey, you’re welcome to join us.,”
“No, I’m already good shape,” she joked. Granted, I’ve been telling her that for years. It takes something like this for her to believe me.
Ab work done. We started a walking video, doing what amounted to 1+ miles in about 20 minutes. Finally, we called it a day.
“What? You’re quitting?” my wife asked.
“Honey, the workout’s over. The boys need to study.”
My wife laughed. “And what’s your excuse.”
“I have to help them.”
I’m certain it won’t be our last night of family exercise, though I don’t know how long we’ll stay at it. If it goes at least a month, it will exceed most of our resolutions. Still, with family dinners and a family workout, it was a nice evening at home. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
“I think the place may be running a special. Ten dollars a month isn’t bad.”
“I know,” I said. “I just wonder if I'll have the time?”
“Well, you should do something. You could stand to drop a few pounds. The doctor said so.”
I looked down at my slight paunch and knew she was right. I’m not fat, but I don’t want to keep growing in the stomach.”
“Dad,” my younger son piped in, “if you go to the gym, I want to go, too.”
“You already have a gym,” my wife said. “It’s called recess.”
“It’s been too cold, Mommy.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she responded. “You still get exercise.”
“I know,” he answered. “Daddy, you can use that movie you have with the exercise girl, the one that I used to do with you.”
Exercise girl? My wife mouthed, wondering what video I was showing the kids when she wasn’t home.
“Pilates,” I said,
My wife nodded and then her head perked up. “I know. You can do exercise TV on cable.”
“We can do what?”
“Exercises. There are free videos on TV.”
With dinner over and the table cleared, we began searching our cable company’s “On Demand” feature. Normally, we only use this for movies, as it was good for both free ones as well as ones where we know even buying it on DVD is still too high a price. But I’d had no idea there was exercise videos as well.
We looked first for a short video to get into the spirit. There were all sorts of categories. Basic toning. Cardio. Carmen Electra (I know what that one is. Could never watch it with my kids), as well as walking videos. We scrolled through the toning videos, choosing one for basic abs and thighs, as I was silently thankful that my kids didn’t ask me to explain some of the more interesting titles. We spent 15 minutes, getting some kinks out of our muscles while my wife and I moved the couch to give us room. It had definitely been awhile.
“Kick in, not out.”
“Arms up.”
“Crunch.”
“Stay in rhythm.”
“Mommy stop laughing.”
I looked over at my wife. “Honey, you’re welcome to join us.,”
“No, I’m already good shape,” she joked. Granted, I’ve been telling her that for years. It takes something like this for her to believe me.
Ab work done. We started a walking video, doing what amounted to 1+ miles in about 20 minutes. Finally, we called it a day.
“What? You’re quitting?” my wife asked.
“Honey, the workout’s over. The boys need to study.”
My wife laughed. “And what’s your excuse.”
“I have to help them.”
I’m certain it won’t be our last night of family exercise, though I don’t know how long we’ll stay at it. If it goes at least a month, it will exceed most of our resolutions. Still, with family dinners and a family workout, it was a nice evening at home. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Going It All Alone
“Mom. Dad. Guess what I got on my math test.”
My 12-year old son’s attempt to hold back a smile gave away the answer, but we still asked the question. “What’d you get?”
“One hundred percent.”
“Great,” my wife and I both said.
We were proud of him. However, my pride also contained relief. This test had been a little different from other ones in that my son hadn’t asked my help in studying for it. My son has always been an “A” student in math. It’s his best subject. However, as he has progressed in grades, his homework has gotten harder, requiring him to study more hours. My wife often helps with projects and preparing study sheets. I handle Math, Science, and History tutoring.
But what made this math test different? When we asked him last week about what tests he had this week, he mentioned the math test. He has 2-3 tests/quizzes per week and we both work with him. However, when we asked if he needed to study (and study help), he surprised us. “No, I’m ready for it.”
“Are you sure? The test is in two days.”
“No, I’m good.”
We repeated the same queries the night before the test. He said he didn’t need it. He was ready.
And so we did something which is at times, very hard for us. We took him at his word that he was ready.
It wasn’t the first time he’s claimed to be ready for an exam on his own. Sometimes, he does well. Other times, he makes silly mistakes. But why is this hard for us? For those of you that may not know, my older son has speech and language difficulties. It’s hard for him to express himself, to follow a conversation, and to follow social cues. (The last trait my wife attributes to me.) This ability to process information is one of the reasons we study with him hours every day. It takes him that much extra time to learn. He may pick up only a little in class. We teach him the rest at home.
For him to say he was ready without us was his confidence that through class, and by studying on his own, he was ready. And this is a big step. It gives my wife and I pause, but we want to believe he can do it on his own. And when he brings home a 100%, my wife and I celebrate with him. And my son had confidence, knowing he had progressed in learning to do things on his own.
Yesterday, he had a science test. I don’t remember studying groundwater and saturation zones as a kid and I doubt I’ll remember it much after this week is over. But we did spend three nights on it, getting my son ready for the test. And I’m sure I’ll do it again soon. But maybe soon, he’ll learn to be okay on this subject as well.
My 12-year old son’s attempt to hold back a smile gave away the answer, but we still asked the question. “What’d you get?”
“One hundred percent.”
“Great,” my wife and I both said.
We were proud of him. However, my pride also contained relief. This test had been a little different from other ones in that my son hadn’t asked my help in studying for it. My son has always been an “A” student in math. It’s his best subject. However, as he has progressed in grades, his homework has gotten harder, requiring him to study more hours. My wife often helps with projects and preparing study sheets. I handle Math, Science, and History tutoring.
But what made this math test different? When we asked him last week about what tests he had this week, he mentioned the math test. He has 2-3 tests/quizzes per week and we both work with him. However, when we asked if he needed to study (and study help), he surprised us. “No, I’m ready for it.”
“Are you sure? The test is in two days.”
“No, I’m good.”
We repeated the same queries the night before the test. He said he didn’t need it. He was ready.
And so we did something which is at times, very hard for us. We took him at his word that he was ready.
It wasn’t the first time he’s claimed to be ready for an exam on his own. Sometimes, he does well. Other times, he makes silly mistakes. But why is this hard for us? For those of you that may not know, my older son has speech and language difficulties. It’s hard for him to express himself, to follow a conversation, and to follow social cues. (The last trait my wife attributes to me.) This ability to process information is one of the reasons we study with him hours every day. It takes him that much extra time to learn. He may pick up only a little in class. We teach him the rest at home.
For him to say he was ready without us was his confidence that through class, and by studying on his own, he was ready. And this is a big step. It gives my wife and I pause, but we want to believe he can do it on his own. And when he brings home a 100%, my wife and I celebrate with him. And my son had confidence, knowing he had progressed in learning to do things on his own.
Yesterday, he had a science test. I don’t remember studying groundwater and saturation zones as a kid and I doubt I’ll remember it much after this week is over. But we did spend three nights on it, getting my son ready for the test. And I’m sure I’ll do it again soon. But maybe soon, he’ll learn to be okay on this subject as well.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Legoland
For those of you that have small children and have spent some time in southern California, you might be familiar with a place called Legoland. This theme park, north of San Diego, offers unbelievable fun to Lego-crazed kids everywhere. My boys have been several times, as my in-laws live in L.A. Given a choice, at least for now, they would choose Legoland over Disneyland. And with a Lego-themed scheduled or Atlanta sometimes in the future, I know we’ll become members and visit regularly.
This post has nothing to do with that.
Instead, today’s musing deal with another adventurous Legoland, the one in our house. We’ve bought untold numbers of Lego toys over the years, going back to the day when my older son discovered Bionicles. We’ve put the toys together, taken them apart, and then built bigger ones like taking two double stuff Oreos and making one really big cookie. When we moved from Oregon several years ago, my wife, in packing the house, actually managed to disassemble all the Lego toys, put them back in the original boxes she’d saved, and ship them to Georgia. This is one of the most amazing feats of reverse engineering in mankind’s history.
But as my kids grew, we expanded our Lego investment, branched out on Legos, buying bigger and better ones (re: more complex). And why a 1,000 piece Lego model is suitable for kids 5 & up I’ll never know, but we accepted without question the age recommendations on the boxes, confident that it would be a learning experience.
We got that right. We learned.
We learned that once a boy builds a Lego he is likely to destroy a Lego. And my younger son, whom we should have named Calvin (after Calvin & Hobbes) is a master of his craft. Pieces go all over the place. Toys gets mixed together. Things fall in (get launched into) the heating vent. And if it’s hard enough to find a 1-mm piece amidst a thousand pieces. Imagine what happens when you’ve got 5,000 pieces in a pile and you keep adding to it every time you’re moving around in the dark or don’t watch your step.
About a year ago, after a particularly egregious experience, we enacted a Lego ban. The ban lasted until this past weekend when my wife relented and allowed our 8-year old to purchase a small Lego (actually Mega blocks) toy with his own birthday money. He promised to be good. He promised to take care of it. We also agreed let him put together a Lego toy he got for his birthday a week ago, another 1,000+ piece contraption.
The small toy didn’t last a day. We got a little peeved, tried again to re-establish some rules (or at least something that our kids would obey regarding Legos), and went forward. The rules are:
1) A broken Lego goes immediately to a table or desk with all parts.
2) Broken Legos shall ONLY be assembled at tables or desk.
3) Broken Legos are not put back in boxes, unless disassembled on purpose and confirmed that all pieces are there.
4) Assembly by dividing things into piles by both color and size (large or small) is best.
5) This is their last chance.
Until the next time.
Eventually, one day, after our kids are grown, we will likely put together the toys to confirm that we do have all the pieces. We’re going to re-box them and put them away. And then, when our sons least expect it, we’ll get our revenge.
Presents to grandkids anyone?
What rules do you have in your house for Legos or similar type objects?
This post has nothing to do with that.
Instead, today’s musing deal with another adventurous Legoland, the one in our house. We’ve bought untold numbers of Lego toys over the years, going back to the day when my older son discovered Bionicles. We’ve put the toys together, taken them apart, and then built bigger ones like taking two double stuff Oreos and making one really big cookie. When we moved from Oregon several years ago, my wife, in packing the house, actually managed to disassemble all the Lego toys, put them back in the original boxes she’d saved, and ship them to Georgia. This is one of the most amazing feats of reverse engineering in mankind’s history.
But as my kids grew, we expanded our Lego investment, branched out on Legos, buying bigger and better ones (re: more complex). And why a 1,000 piece Lego model is suitable for kids 5 & up I’ll never know, but we accepted without question the age recommendations on the boxes, confident that it would be a learning experience.
We got that right. We learned.
We learned that once a boy builds a Lego he is likely to destroy a Lego. And my younger son, whom we should have named Calvin (after Calvin & Hobbes) is a master of his craft. Pieces go all over the place. Toys gets mixed together. Things fall in (get launched into) the heating vent. And if it’s hard enough to find a 1-mm piece amidst a thousand pieces. Imagine what happens when you’ve got 5,000 pieces in a pile and you keep adding to it every time you’re moving around in the dark or don’t watch your step.
About a year ago, after a particularly egregious experience, we enacted a Lego ban. The ban lasted until this past weekend when my wife relented and allowed our 8-year old to purchase a small Lego (actually Mega blocks) toy with his own birthday money. He promised to be good. He promised to take care of it. We also agreed let him put together a Lego toy he got for his birthday a week ago, another 1,000+ piece contraption.
The small toy didn’t last a day. We got a little peeved, tried again to re-establish some rules (or at least something that our kids would obey regarding Legos), and went forward. The rules are:
1) A broken Lego goes immediately to a table or desk with all parts.
2) Broken Legos shall ONLY be assembled at tables or desk.
3) Broken Legos are not put back in boxes, unless disassembled on purpose and confirmed that all pieces are there.
4) Assembly by dividing things into piles by both color and size (large or small) is best.
5) This is their last chance.
Until the next time.
Eventually, one day, after our kids are grown, we will likely put together the toys to confirm that we do have all the pieces. We’re going to re-box them and put them away. And then, when our sons least expect it, we’ll get our revenge.
Presents to grandkids anyone?
What rules do you have in your house for Legos or similar type objects?
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