Heavy Metal

Last week, we went to a pretty cool concert at our local library. It was billed as:

Song-Singing – Tale Telling – Music-Making

YANKEE NOTIONS

Traditional and Contemporary Folk Music From New England for the Season (Guitar, Hammered Dulcimer, Concertina, Tin Whistle)

For those who don’t know what a hammered dulcimer is (understandably so), it’s a stringed instrument going back a couple of thousand years. The guy who was playing it seemed to be a virtuoso. Turns out, he used to make them.

The concert was fantastic, although we did have to leave at intermission because the concert started at 7pm and we didn’t want to push it by keeping the kids up to late.

Charlotte and Luke enjoyed themselves and were very well behaved, although Luke did get distracted by a circular mirror hanging at an angle from the ceiling (positioned so the librarian can see what’s happening in the far corners of the room from the check-out desk). Luke started making funny faces and the attempted to climb up onto his chair so he could have a better view of it.

We sat in the front row, and the kids even stood up and danced briefly, which the performers seemed to appreciate.

We had been expecting the age of the audience to skew toward the older side, but we arrived to discover a large number of kids in Cub Scout uniforms scattered throughout the room. We eventually learned they were there to earn their ‘concert badges.’

The concert included a demonstration on how to play the spoons, prompting the musician to advise against using spoons that were too big unless you wanted to play ‘heavy metal.’ Classic.

Turns out, we had seen the band perform last year at a local state park as part of a flower festival. They sang a hysterical song called, “I’m my own grandpaw,” by Dwight Latham and Moe Jaffe and based on a Mark Twain anecdeote. (First stanza: Many, many years ago when I was twenty-three; I was married to a widow who was pretty as could be. This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red. My father fell in love with her and soon they, too, were wed.)

I found a performance of the song on YouTube. Check it out:

And, for the kid in all of us, here’s a rendition by the Muppet Show’s Gogolala Jubilee Jugband:

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

The Breakfast of Our Discontent

We had a particularly trying breakfast experience with the kids this morning.  Overall, meal experiences aren’t too bad – limited complaining and an occasional spilled drink or tossed plate.

But today, on a pancake and smoothie day, no less, things went a little haywire.

Highlights included:

1. Two (2) spilled smoothies: Charlotte spilled hers onto the bench and Luke spilled his onto the table.
2. One (1) continuously complaining daughter: first she wasn’t happy because she wanted waffles, NOT pancakes.  She made sure we didn’t forget this fact by punctuating almost every bite with, “I don’t like this, I wanted waffles,” throughout the meal.  Then she was unhappy because she wanted a ‘berry blast’ smoothie (blueberries and strawberries) rather than the ‘orange crush’ smoothie (orange juice, cantaloupe) that we had made.
3. One (1) angry dialogue between Luke’s fork and straw, resulting in a sword fight (actually, a fork/straw fight) that resulted in spilled smoothie all over the table (see item 1.)  and Karen exclaiming, “Luke, you CANNOT use your fork to fight your straw!”

But I guess whenever you serve a two-year-old and four-year-old maple syrup, things are bound to get a little sticky.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

For-Never in Blue Jeans

For some reason, Charlotte and Luke both hate wearing jeans, which is a shame, because we have a ton of hand-me-down jeans. I’m not sure why they don’t like them. Karen and I wear them frequently. Blue jeans are so iconic, so representative of the American spirit (I actually wrote a paper on Levi Strauss in grade school), and so comfortable (once broken in).

Unfortunately, Charlotte and Luke don’t see it that way. Luke prefers sweat pants, corduroys, and pretty much any other type of pants; and Charlotte prefers dresses, striped stretchy pants, etc.

And it’s not just that they don’t like to wear them. They protest vehemently if I even propose it.

Picture it… yesterday morning, the kids are watching Curious George on our bed, I return from their room with my wardrobe selection for the day (including jeans)…

Me: “Kids, guess what!? Today is blue jean day!”

Luke: “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Charlotte: “Dad, I want to wear a dress or something else.”

Luke’s been particularly contrarian of late. And not just about sartorial selections.

His standard response to questions has become: “Because I wanted to.”

“Luke, why did you push Charlotte?” “Because I wanted to.”

“Luke, why did you throw your plate across the table?” “Because I wanted to.”

“Luke, why are you screaming at the top of your lungs?” “Because I want to.”

Great. Just great.

With an independent streak like that – and such a strong sense of rugged individualism – he should be wearing blue jeans.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Man in the Mirror…

Does every two and half year old get fixated on his reflection?

Luke loves watching his face in the mirror.  Actually, it doesn’t even have to be a mirror — it can be his reflection in a window, in a spoon, or even the side of a stainless steel bowl on the table.  He loves to watch himself on video (though he doesn’t always like to be filmed).

One of the highpoints of brushing his teeth seems to be watching his face in the mirror as he does it.  For some strange reason, he also likes to watch himself cry.  Sometimes, when he gets upset and starts crying, he’ll run to a mirror just to see his face.  I think he starts crying partly to watch his face in the mirror as he does it.  Occasionally, he’ll fake cry just so he can see it in the mirror.

We often have to shut the kitchen window shades across from Luke’s seat at the dinner table because he gets so distracted by his reflection in the window glass.  We’ll be eating and we’ll notice that Luke has stopped eating and is making faces in the window, sometimes accompanied by sound effects – yells, yelps, and screams that contribute to his experimental facial expressions. 

I’m not sure if he’s just at an age when he’s especially fixated on his image and how it can change.  (I’m hoping it’s a stage that he grows out of and that he’s not a modern-day Narcissus.)

He does seem to have a very good self-image.  He’s self-confident with a devil-may-care attitude.  When he makes a joke or does something entertaining, he’ll pause to remark, “I’m funny!”  (He also notes this quality in other people, commenting that ‘Dad,’ ‘Charlotte,’ or ‘Mom’ “is funny.”  He’s enthusiastic and likes to laugh – he’s a great audience.)

He often notes, “I’m getting bigger” or “I’m big,” when putting on clothes, doing something new, or, yes, looking at himself in the mirror.  In fact, he’s been talking a lot lately about playing basketball with me.  I play on an over-30 team and Luke is determined to join. When I explain that he’s not old enough or big enough, he’ll furrow his brow and insist, “But Dad, I’m big!”

He’s also becoming more self aware, in many ways.  A couple of days ago, he woke up in a bad mood, so Karen asked him, “Luke, are you going to be happy today or whiny and grumpy?”

His immediate response: “Whiny and grumpy.”

In other news, it’s our niece Emily’s ninth birthday and our nephew Ben’s fourth birthday this week, with a party this weekend.  We got Emily the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid (she’s a big fan) and Battleship!, which she’s played at our house in the past and really liked.  It’s different now – rather than two separate folding components it’s a single, upright, two-sided battlefield (or battle-water/ocean).  Looks cool.  We’re looking forward to playing it with her.

We got Ben one of our favorite books, The Knight and the Dragon, by Tomie dePaola, along with toy knight and dragon figurines.  Charlotte and Luke are very excited – one of their favorite activities is playing with their knight, princess, and horses.  Luke’s very excited about the dragon – it’s big, with fire coming out of his mouth, and, as Luke likes to point out, “it has a saddle!”

The inscription we wrote on the inside front cover of the book:

To Sir Benning Charles, Our Dearest Cousin, On the Occasion of Your Fourth Birthday as You Begin Another Year of Quests and Adventures!  Godspeed, Sir Luke Alexander and Princess Charlotte Fiona

Unfortunately, we don’t have our own The Knight and the Dragon yet (though we get it from the library frequently), so when I showed it to Luke, he yelled, very upset, “It’s mine!”  I reminded him we got it for Ben, to which he replied, “But I want it!”  (So much for being unselfish.)

Unbeknownst to him, we had gotten two copies, one for Christmas.  Charlotte, who had seen the two copies, excitedly said, “Dad, I have an idea!  I’m going to whisper it in your ear!”  Cupping her hand, she then whispered, “Dad, we can give the second book to Luke for his birthday!”

What a good idea!

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Give a little bit…

In the week leading up to Halloween, one of Charlotte and Luke’s great aunts gave them each $5 to get an ice cream for Halloween.

A couple of weeks later, we decided to use the money for dinner and an ice cream at Friendly’s.  When I told Charlotte that her $5 would pay for not just her ice cream but would cover her entire meal, she thought for a moment before saying, “Dad, I’ll pay for your meal, too.”  (I suppose it is the thought that counts.)

For a four year old and a two year old, Charlotte and Luke are pretty good at sharing, particularly with their Halloween candy

They are each allowed one piece of Halloween candy a day, and whenever they have one they also offer one to me and Karen.  They usually remember which ones are our favorites. 

Luke does usually expect a bite in return.  As soon as he hands me a piece of candy, he’ll ask, with hopeful eyes, “Dad, can I try?”  And, given the size of Halloween candy in relation to the size of Luke’s bites, he usually ‘tries’ over half of my candy.  (Charlotte tends to be more of a nibbler.)  Whenever they’re having a snack or treat, even if it’s something they love that they don’t have a lot of, they almost always offer to share. 

Of course, they’re not completely unselfish.  They fight over toys and argue about turns probably about as much as most brothers and sisters.  Once in a while, if we suggest Luke share something, he’ll respond with an emphatic and anguished, “No!” in a tone that implies, “How could you even ask?!”  But more often than not, he’ll change his mind within 10 minutes and, without any prompting, decide to share.

What can I say, my kids are givers.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Full of _it…

Earlier this week, Luke pooped in the bathtub. 

Not fun.  Thankfully, we’ve only had to deal with feces in the bathtub on a small number occasions (although we would have preferred zero).  Click here to read about one of those previous experiences (how’s that for a teaser?) in ‘Hope’s Not the Only Thing that Floats.’

Luke apparently took note of how quickly Karen got him out of the bathtub and has tried to use the threat of pooh to his advantage during subsequent baths (not the first time that Luke has played the role of The Boy Who Cried Pooh). 

If he’s not in the mood for a bath or has simply decided that bath time is over, he’ll ominously declare, “Mom, I’m poohing…”

Needless to say, Karen quickly caught on to his shenanigans. 

During tonight’s bath, he attempted this ruse no less than six times by utilizing several different variations of his declaration of pooh (in words, tone, and inflection):

            “Mom, I’m poohing…”

            “Mom, pooh’s coming out…”

            “I’m poohing, Mommy…”

Fed up, Karen responded with this classic:  “Luke, I can see your bum and there’s nothing coming out of it.  You’re staying in the tub.”

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

‘I Love You, Man’

Early Thursday morning, during our customary ‘cuddle time’ when we desperately (and futilely) try to get the kids to fall back to sleep in our bed, the kids had the following conversation:

Luke: “Charlotte?….  Charlotte?…. Charlotte?….”

Charlotte: (finally, in an exasperated tone) “Yes, Luke.”

Luke:  “I love you, Charlotte.”

(Pause)

Luke: “Charlotte?….  Charlotte?…. Charlotte?….”

Charlotte: (finally, in an exasperated tone) “Yes, Luke.”

Luke:  “I love you, Charlotte.”

(Pause)

Charlotte: (finally) “I love you, too, Luke.”

Luke is currently in what I am calling his ‘I love you, man’ phase.  (Karen and I recently saw the movie I Love You, Man.  Pretty funny stuff.  Of course, not exactly family fare.) 

Over the past couple of weeks, Luke has been spontaneously declaring his love for us.  As you can imagine, it’s a fantastic phase.  Sometimes, it seems as though he might be fishing for the same expression back.  But most of the time, he just says it and he’s off, like a superhero spreading his super joy.

We might be playing with his toys and he’ll pause for a moment to say, “I  love you, Dad!”  Or I’ll be tickling him and he’ll catch his breath long enough to get out a barely intelligible, “Daddy, I love you.”  Or I’ll be working in the office and he’ll run in just to say, “I love you, Dad,” and then run out laughing.  The other night, I tucked him in, kissed him good night, and was rewarded with a, “Good night, Dad.  I love you.”

Don’t get me wrong.  Two and a half year olds (and four year olds) are certainly not all peaches and cream.  At bed time, I often have to suffer through arguments between the kids over who gets to have Mom put them to bed.  (‘Hello, kids, I’m standing right here!’) I know they prefer their mom, but do they have to rub it in?    

Luke’s been particularly disobedient of late.  The other day, I went into his bedroom while he was playing and was greeted by him putting up his hand and harshly telling me to “Get Out!”  When I asked him why he said that, he responded with what is becoming his standard reply: “Because I wanted to.” 

Ugh.  And he’s not even close to being a teenager yet.

But regardless, the “I love you” moments really do make it all worthwhile (for the most part).

This morning, Luke was acting up and we had a little discipline chat on the couch.  At the end of which he stated, “I love you, Dad.”

And on Wednesday, when I returned after a long day of working on-site at a client’s, Luke was quite excited to see me.  I was greeted by a wonderful, “I missed you, Dad.” 

It was soon followed up by, as you might have guessed, a very satisfying, “Dad, I love you.”

Life doesn’t get much better than that.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

The Boo Flu

Sorry for the long delay between servings.  I suffered from the convergence of a busy work week, some side projects, and a bad case of what I’m calling the ‘Boo Flu.’

I woke up on Halloween morning feeling hollowed out like a jack-o’-lantern, achy and numb all over like a zombie, with a rough, scratchy werewolf voice and the tired old bones of a skeleton.  So, of course, I wanted to make like a vampire and sleep all day.  Needless to say, I was as grumpy as a witch.

As I said, I came down with a bad case of the Boo Flu.  It really snuck up on me.  I’m starting to feel better – I’m hoping that the Boo Flu has finally flown off (perhaps on a witch’s broom).

But Boo Flu or no Boo flu, the trick or treating went on.

The kids were great.  Luke was much more agreeable about wearing his dragon costume than anticipated.  Prior to Halloween, he liked it, just not when it was on him.  Charlotte was a precious Snow White, Karen was a beautiful queen, and I ended up going out as the royal chef.

Aunt Jen accompanied us as a castle, which she constructed out of boxes and tinfoil.  It was a pretty cool costume.  Her face looked out through the drawbridge entrance.   Plus, after Halloween, she left it at our house so the kids could have a new toy castle, making for hours, no, days (and counting) of entertainment.  The castle has held up better than anticipated, though it’s starting to look a little shabby.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese,’ along with some Halloween treats (if there are any left).

Halloween Grab Bag

When Charlotte and Luke woke up this morning, Karen immediately asked them, “Guess what today is?”

Charlotte’s excited response: “A school day!?”  (Bless her heart.)

“No, Charlotte – it’s Saturday,” noted Karen.  “Here’s a hint, we dress up and go to the neighbors’ houses for candy.”

When they caught on that it was Halloween, Luke decided to clue me in just case I had missed it (granted, I was lying in bed, with my eyes closed, seeing as it was probably about 6:00am), loudly stating, “Dad, we’re going to go get CANDY!”

Tonight is indeed the culmination of Halloween festivities.

Earlier this week, we did some pumpkin carving – a challenge with a four year old and a two and a half year old, especially one who’s currently very fascinated by knives.

They were both very interested at first as they pulled out the guts.  When Charlotte suggested that I film them, it prompted a bit of a temper tantrum on Luke’s part: 

Luke soon decided not to participate, for the most part, but occasionally wandered over to make an unsolicited suggestion or two, prompting Charlotte to remark quite matter-of-factly, “Luke’s not helping, he’s just telling us what to do.

When it came time to actually carve the face, interest from both children intensified.  Karen asked the kids to stand back a safe distance as she carved.  As requested, they took a few steps back but then slowly inched forward until they were back on top of her, crowding her carving efforts.

Karen had to repeatedly ask them to step back only to have them assume their prior positions of practically climbing on top of her as she tried to carve.  Charlotte eventually got the hint and, if she wanted to get closer, would essentially call a time out by dramatically announcing. “Mom, Mom!  Stop for a second!”  When Karen stopped, Charlotte would get in close to point to something and make a comment, such as, “The lips look like they have lipstick!”

No such luck with Luke.  He would get excited and repeatedly lurch forward to touch one of the eye holes or the nose hole, which drove knife-wielding Karen crazy (rightfully so).

We’re going to attempt some more pumpkin carving this afternoon prior to trick or treating.

On a somewhat related note, we all went to the dentist this week.  It was Luke’s first visit, and he was quite excited.  For whatever reason, Charlotte and Luke LOVE to brush their teeth, probably a little too much.  If we let him, Luke would brush his teeth ten times a day.  We suspect that part of the appeal is that he likes to watch himself in the bathroom mirror.  They’ve started fighting over the stool.  The other day, Luke actually tried to pull it out from underneath Charlotte while she was standing on it, forcing her to cling to the sink for dear life. 

Anyway, Luke could barely contain himself in the dentist’s waiting room, continuously asking, “Is it my turn?”  When his name was finally (in his opinion) called by the hygienist, he marched right by her and toward the exam rooms, despite the fact that he didn’t know which room he was going to.  Apparently, he didn’t want to waste any time.  The hygienist had to direct him from behind when he took a right down the hallway when he was supposed to take a left.

Ever since he saw Charlotte get her teeth cleaned, Luke’s been doing a lot of practicing, keeping his mouth open for extended periods of time.  He even mimes teeth flossing.  He was ready to go.  The hygienist told him a couple of times that he could close his mouth if he wanted to at certain points, even closing it for him at one point.

At the end of the exam, Luke’s mouth was declared cavity-free.

Let’s hope it stays that way after eating his loot from tonight.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese’ (with a side of pumpkin pie).

Happy Halloween!

Enter the Dragon, part 2

When Karen suggested the idea of a dragon as a possible Halloween costume, Luke was all over it.  Luke has always been very in touch with his inner-dragon.    And Charlotte had already decided she wanted to be a princess, of course. 

So a medieval Halloween it will bee.  (Pun intended – last year, we all dressed as bees.  Here’s the pre-Halloween post: Let it Bee, and the post-Halloween post: Oh, Bee Hive. 

Plus, we utilized the kids’ costumes for our Christmas card.  The theme: Let There BEE Peace on Earth. See photo below.

We’ve found Craig’s List to be a great source for Halloween costumes.  How often does a small child wear a Halloween costume?  Once or twice, maybe (unless, that is, they wear them as dress ups). 

The first dragon costume Karen found online was far too cartoony.  It was purple, almost Barney-like.  That was not going to do.  We needed something that looked far more like a ‘real’ dragon (or as real as a costume depicting a mythical creature can look).  We needed more of a fierce looking dragon, which would be truer to how Luke would play it – more in line with Luke’s interpretation of a dragon.

Craig’s List came through: a fierce, green, scaly dragon costume with sharp-looking claws and teeth.  We arranged a supermarket drop off/pickup.  The lady pulled up to the curb, handed us the plastic bag containing the costume, we checked it out, passed her the cash, and the transfer was complete.

Luke was thrilled.  He had begun his dragon transformation within minutes, putting on the costume as we stood just inside the entrance to the supermarket.  The cashiers were quite entertained when Luke issued a practice roar.

Needless to say, we’re looking forward to trick or treating this weekend.

Plus, I’m thinking we can utilize the costumes for the Christmas card again.  My plan is to  bring the kids to the local medieval museum in their costumes, pose them with a knight/suit of armor, throw a Santa hat on it, snap a photo, and put it on a card with:

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good (wait for it)…                     KNIGHT!

Bam!  Perfect.

Unfortunately, Karen doesn’t quite agree.  Here’s how it played out:

Me: “Karen, I’ve got a great idea for our Christmas card this year!”

Karen (not excited as I expected, rolling her eyes): “Can’t we just have a normal Christmas card this year?”

Me: “If by normal, you mean unbelievably clever, YES!”

Karen: “As long as they’re not wearing their Halloween costumes again.”

Me:  “What’s wrong with them wearing their Halloween costumes?  It’s like a combined Halloween and Christmas card.”

Karen: “Exactly.  It’s just a little weird.”

After I shared my idea, she was still unconvinced.

Oh well.  There’s still time. 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Head in the Trees…

During this time of year, I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about leaves and trees, largely because of the incredible number of leaves that cover our yard (and because New England foliage is truly glorious).

But also because of a long held fascination with tree houses.

In our local paper, there was recently a story about a man (with no children) who built a four-level tree house.  He was motivated by the sheer joy of building a tree house.  Unfortunately, his neighbors have raised quite the ruckus, and he is being forced to take it down, but before he does, he’s completing the finishing touches, out of principle and his pure love of tree houses, I suppose.

There’s something magical about a tree house – about the idea of living, even for a short time, among the trees.  Maybe part of it is having a separate space, a clubhouse closed off to others with a secret password, handshake and name, where imaginations can run wild.  The idea of a tree house calls to mind the movies Stand by Me and The Sandlot, plus the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes.  There’s something quintessential about it.

I’ve always wanted a tree house of my own, but, alas, I have never had one.  Now that we have a yard with lots of trees, I’m a step closer to realizing this long held dream (for the kids, of course).  Although it still seems pretty far off because of 1) a lack of resources and 2) a lack of ability, combined with a fear of heights.  (I know, details, details.)

A couple of months ago, I got a book from the library on how to build tree houses (and additional features, including zip lines, rope ladders, and trap doors).  It made it seem so easy, until I read the disclaimer in the introduction, which stated that the included plans were merely conceptual (although, in actuality, they were quite detailed) and instructing readers to hire an architect and professional carpenter and to consult zoning laws and get the proper permitting.

Yeah.  Great.  Talk about a reality check.

Until then, I have my dreams.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

The Boy Who Cried Pooh…

When Luke wants to delay the inevitable, such as leaving the house to go somewhere he doesn’t want to go, he often claims that he has a pooh in his diaper. 

It’s a simple yet effective tactic.  I have to at least check to make sure I’m not forcing my beloved son to walk around with a diaper full of crap.

Unfortunately, it appears that Luke has become a bit of a homebody and frequently wants to avert or at least delay departure.  Sometimes he’s just in a mood where he doesn’t want to leave the house, no matter where we’re going.  He’ll repeatedly plead, “I want to stay at home!”  And when we’re at our destination, he’ll repeatedly plead, “I want to go home!” 

Today, as we were getting ready to leave for my parents, Luke decided that today was one of those days and stated matter-of-factly.  “Dad, we’re not going.”  Then, when informed that we were in fact going, insisted, “but I want to stay home!”  (The first of several such declarations.)

When we were finally ready to walk out the door, Luke went to old reliable: “Dad, I went pooh.”

Charlotte, immediately suspicious, noted, “Dad, I don’t smell anything.”  I responded that we’d find out pretty quickly.

Sure enough, a clean diaper, prompting the following story:

“Luke, have you heard about the boy who cried pooh?” (he shakes his head no)  “There was a little boy named Luke who often cried that he poohed his diaper when he hadn’t.  Then one day, he poohed his diaper, but his parents didn’t believe him and refused to change his diaper for days.  He smelled so bad that none of his friends wanted to hang out with him.  All because he cried pooh when it simply wasn’t true.”

Unfortunately, Luke had lost all interest by that point. 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

Voices…

As I was reading a book to the kids the other day, I adopted a pretty good old lady voice for one of the characters.  Pretty impressed with myself, I paused for a moment and asked, “So, did you like my old lady voice?”  Both Charlotte and Luke commented that it was good (although they may have just been humoring me so I would get on with the story).

Later in the day, Luke asked me somewhat out of the blue, “Dad, do you like my voice?” 

At first, I couldn’t quite understand him.  “Do I like your what?”  “My voice, Dad, do you like my voice?”

I’m not sure if he had been doing a ‘voice’ (he often does, especially when he’s playing with puppets or toy figures and when he’s recounting events), or if he was asking about the sound of his normal, everyday voice.

For a fleeting moment, I thought that he might be developing an insecurity about how he sounded, a thought I quickly dismissed as being out of character – he’s very carefree, confident, and seems unconcerned about how he’s perceived by others.

Plus, his voice is great – he talks well for a two and half year old, which is a relief to me because, as someone who struggled with a speech impediment and a heavy Massachusetts accent, in addition to talking fast and running words together, I feared I might pass on these undesirable traits to my kids (never mind my subpar singing voice and pitch dyslexia)

I’d like to think he was asking about his ‘voice’ in the more sophisticated, larger sense – as in a writer’s ‘voice,’ so to speak — his perspective, his way of looking at and understanding the world and communicating that understanding to others.

Regardless of what ‘voice’ he was referring to, the answer was a resounding, ‘yes,’ on all counts.

“Yes, Luke, I like your voice very much,” I stated.  “In fact, I love your voice.”

It was a statement I made in my very own voice, the voice of a loving and proud dad, a voice that I have come to relish using.

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’

One Year of ‘Mac & Cheese’

I recently passed the one-year milestone of serving ‘mac & cheese’.  That’s right, one whole year – 135 servings, 50 comments, a few thousand views, and hopefully some laughs.

It’s been a fun year – both living it and writing about it, including the ice storm, sordid holiday adventures, birthdays, sleepless nights, a mouse in the house, and other escapades, events, milestones, and activities revealing our various quirks.

Feel free to take a look through the archives and let me know if any servings stand out as being particularly good (or particularly bad). I’d love to hear from you. I’m thinking about putting together a list of the top ten (or maybe five, or maybe twenty, or maybe seven) posts from the past year.

Hopefully, it hasn’t gotten old and stale but is as tasty as ever. After all, who gets sick of mac & cheese? It’s a staple.

I hope you enjoyed the past year of ‘mac & cheese’ as much as I did.  Thanks for coming along for the read.

CSI: Charlotte’s Room

A few days ago, Charlotte, Luke, and one of the neighbors were playing upstairs in Charlotte’s room.  It sounded as though they were jumping on the bed.  Karen and I were in the kitchen when we heard a bang, followed by crying.

Karen immediately went upstairs and was greeted at the top step by Charlotte and her friend.  They quickly informed Karen that Luke had fallen off of the bed (Charlotte’s new, big girl bed).

When Karen asked for further explanation, Charlotte stated that Luke was standing on the edge of the bed and ‘fell off.’

I came up shortly thereafter, and Luke was pretty much all better.  When Charlotte climbed back onto her bed, Luke attempted to join her, prompting Charlotte to tell him, ‘no’ (quite emphatically), while trying to force him off the bed as the neighbor looked on, unsurprised, as if she had seen this show before. 

The interrogation began.  “Charlotte… did Luke fall off the bed or did you push him?”

“I pushed him because I didn’t want him on my bed,” she admitted.  (At four years old, they crack pretty easy under pressure.)

Another case solved.

On a somewhat unrelated note, last week was fire prevention/awareness week at Charlotte’s preschool.  I tried to convince her to tell her teachers and class that her mom was a fire hazard because she was ‘smokin’ hot.’  She laughed (one of her exaggerated, ‘I don’t really get it but my dad thinks it’s pretty funny so I’ll just humor him’ laughs).  The next day, when I asked her if she did, she responded with a big smirk and drawn out ‘no’ (one of her exaggerated ‘Dad, I may be four but I’m not a fool’ ‘no’s).

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’