Secrets: Why Your Kids Like Me

I like what kids like.  That’s my secret.  That’s why your kid likes me, why I like to hang out with your kids.  Somewhere in my development, my brain stayed kid fascinated with the world.

Par exemple:

Kids like to throw rocks into water.  I like to throw rocks in water.

Kids like to smash smashable things.  I also love to smash.

Kids like to talk about being a superhero.  Me, too. Ad nauseum.

I’m not saying I’m more in touch with anything.  I don’t even know if I believe in “Inner Child” stuff.  I’m just saying that I look at a situation and I want to have the most fun out of it.  I want to make a game out of it.  I want to cut loose and not care what I look like. 

I'm not more kid than anyone else.  I'm not less world weary or cynical.  I just (and maybe everyone does, I don't know) find everyday phenomena to be a little sparkly still. I like catching fireflies and lizards.  I like a little cloudwatching. I get excited by rainstorms at night.  They get me up.  I lie on my pillow and watch the rain in the streetlights until I fall asleep again.

~*~

This is a typical walk for me and Edie. 

*** I carry her for a while, pointing out stuff. “Tree, cloud, ambulance, sign, fence, wheel, leaf, berry, weirdo.” 

*** Then I find a low stonewall for her to balance on.  And I hold her hands and we sing the “Balance Song”.  Which is a song I made up that only has one word: Balance.

*** Then we find sticks and run them along fences.  Or smash leaves or bushes with the sticks.  Sometimes we stop and just peel the bark off the sticks with our nails.  It’s particularly satisfying.

*** If there’s a dog, we stop the person and pet their dog.  We thank the person (Edie says “Thank You”, too) and then we walk away making dog noises to each other.

*** If we find some apples or berries on the ground, we stomp them with our sneakers until they’re good and mashed.

*** When we finally make it to the “greenground” (which is what Edie calls playgrounds) I chase her around the structure and we swing a little and go down slides a little.

*** Sometimes we go looking for ducks and turtles at the lake.  Edie and I quack at the ducks and, this is my favorite, we creep along the lake whispering to each other “Turtles? Where are uuuuuu?”

~*~

I’ve always liked kids.  Maybe it’s being the oldest sibling and taking care of younger kids.  If I had my druthers, I would play a lot more hide and seek.  I would throw kids in the pool all day.  I would find non-tick infested grass fields and do a lot of running with my hands out feeling the tops of the grass.

There’s a lot of danger to kids these days.  And sometimes I feel scared that people find my instinct to play with kids suspicious.  That I’m immediately suspect because it’s a crazy world and kids are more vulnerable than ever.  I understand their fear but it makes me sad.

~*~

I remember the first time I knew kids were in danger by adults was when some creep in a van was hanging out near school bus stops in Grand Rapids.  There was a warning sent around to parents. One time I got there a little early and this other girl who waited with me sometimes was there before me.  I saw the van and a guy get out of it and start walking towards the girl.

I banged on the door next to the stop, this guy who used to watch out for us, and in hindsight, was probably unemployed, his name was Hank or something, and I banged until he came out and saw the van.  And Hank grabbed a baseball bat and chased the guy to the van and beat the hell out of it until the creep pulled away.

I memorized the license plate as he drove away and I rehearsed it all day and forgot to tell it to anyone.  I hope they caught him. Sometimes I worried they didn't because I didn't give anybody the number.

~*~

I wish the world was innocent and safe for Edie.  It’s not.  So I carve out that place.  An eternal place full of dandelions to blow and trains to watch.  A place where Edie laughs so hard she has to cover her mouth because it’s too much joy to let go.  And I do it for both of us, to have a place where we can be children together.

Edie and Pop - Ep. 16 - Words Words Turds

The continuing saga of text messages between me and my baby.

EDIE:  Pop! Pop!  My body won't stop leaking!

POP:  Is it red?! Are you bleeding?

EDIE:  No! I'm just very damp everywhere.  Especially my adorable head curls.

POP:  Oh, that's sweat.  There's a heatwave.  You're going to produce a whole butt load of that.

EDIE:  Sick.  Hey, what's a butt?

POP:  I forgot you're starting to imitate words now.  Crap, forget I said 'butt'.

EDIE:  Oh, what's 'crap'? That's fun to say.  I'm going to say it to Mom now.

POP:  Don't do that!  She'll know it came from me.  How about we just learn some new nice words?

EDIE:  Sure.  Let's use those ones from earlier today.  "Hey, clouds, why don't you do your freaking job and cool me off from these hellbeams?!"  Please explain that one.

POP:  Edie, we're in a heatwave.  You don't know what extreme heat does to me.  I lose my mind.

EDIE:  You should walk around in your diaper all day.  It's nice.

POP:  I don't wear a diaper and even if I did, adults can't do that.

EDIE:  You don't wear a diaper?!  You just poop in your pants?

POP:  No. I have control.  I'm an adult.

EDIE:  I don't know what 'control' is. Does Mom know you don't wear a diaper?

POP:  Yes.  She's aware.  Now do you need a drink of water or something?

EDIE:  I don't know.  I don't know where your hands have been.  I'll call for Mom.

POP:  Your Mom is working on her thesis.  Now promise me you won't be saying those words.

EDIE:  Which ones?  Crap-butts?  Oh, I most crappingly will say freaking hellbeam crap butt.  You can butt on it, Crapmaster Flex.

POP:  You're being childish!

EDIE:  I'm a child!

POP:  Well, just be grown up enough to not say the bad things I say.

EDIE:  Fine.  What are the words you don't want me to say that you say?

POP:  Well, I don't use the swears very much anyway.  But as far as misdemeanors I'm prone to,  I would rather you not repeat: suck, hell, idiot, butthole, crap, stupid, shut up, dumb, d-bag, and a whole bunch of variations like buttbag and crapbrains and douch-eyes.  I also say 'rats' and 'nuts' a lot but I mean both of those in literal ways.

EDIE:  You're joking.

POP:  It's like an ironic thing. I don't mean them but I do get frustrated so I need some words.  And little kid words take the sting out of it.

EDIE:  Why do I hang out with you?

POP:  You're dependent on me for your sustenance.  Well, your Mom mostly.  I contribute some money.

EDIE:  You contribute your butt idiot mouth.

POP:  I said not to say those.

EDIE:  You helling know I will say the crapmost suck out of those words.

POP:  Valerie is going to murder me.

EDIE:  She's gonna murder your stupid ratbutt holeface .  Shut up your crap, Dad. You dumb bum. You suckety buckety. You gut butt buddy duddy.

POP:  It would hurt if it wasn't all so silly.

EDIE:  You're a silly crapperia, Dadderia.  Poop Pop poop.

POP:  I'm shutting my phone off now so I can work out out what to say to your Mom.

How I'm Trying Not to Screw Up Fatherhood

We were in Utah recently hanging out with some old friends from my college improv troupe.  It was Father’s Day and many of us, in the intervening 6 to 8 years since we’d seen each other, had gotten married and become fathers and mothers. It was cool to look around and see so many friends had moved on with their lives in good ways. Life can go lots of ways.  The reunion could have taken place at a methodone clinic.

But I made a joke (it’s a comedy troupe, there’s lots of those) about how many of us will actually be able to call our fathers on Father’s Day.  I made the joke because I knew the particular parental makeup of the group meeting there.  Out of the six male members at this dinner, four had fathers who were dead, one estranged, and only one had a father that was living and involved in his life.  What a freak, right?

I kind of hate Father’s Day.  I always have.  It’s been a complicated road for me and my siblings in the father department and I’m not really going to launch into that here.  We had a great mother and our Heavenly Father picked up a lot of slack where earthly fathers should have been.  My grandfather was a saint and played Dad when he mostly just wanted to be a grandfather. And my Mom’s brother, Uncle John, pitched in, too.  This is not a “Oh, woe is me” post.  It’s an intro to my new job as Dad.

It’s a lie to say I’m treading untrod territory.  I know what a good dad is.  I’ve seen Cliff Huxtable in action.  But it feels strange/disconnected sometimes to do “dad things” for Edie.  I have very little memory of “dad things” to emulate.  Sometimes it feels like I imitate things I think dads do.  It’s like I’m checking off a list.

CHECKLIST OF DAD THINGS THAT DADS MUST DO

Dads swing kids in swings.  Check.

Dads throw kids in the air.  Check.

Dads give shoulder rides.  Check.

Dads play sports with kids.  Gag me.

Dads let kids play in puddles.  Double check.

Dads say “It’s okay” to kids when they fall.  Check.

And I like doing these things.  I like playing cliché Dad and finding real Dad moments through it.  I can’t over analyze everything.  There’s too much life going on.  But sometimes I wonder what my gauge is.  Like my improv friends who had fathers that died, it’s a strange thing to realize you only have your shadow to measure against.  Or I guess the idea of a shadow is all you have.

I remember looking in the mirror the first time I was going to shave and realizing I was terrified.  I could cut my face into hamburger.  Why was there no one to teach me? Who let me have this tiny knife? Why was I being trusted with this responsibility? Maybe my teenage rat mustache could be burned off?  Ultimately, I came through mostly unnicked.

As much I say I don’t care, I do wonder if I’m just suppressing a desire to look over my shoulder and have someone say, “That’s right, son. You’re doing it right.”  Parenthood is a strange solitary journey even when you have someone next to you co-piloting.  Then I guess life is a strangely solitary thing as well.  Your dreams are your own.  The echo of your thoughts inside your brain is yours alone.  It’s good kids have such crappy memories or they’d remember you messing up a lot.

The thing is, I want Edie to be in that room 30 years from now hanging out with her friends and when hands are raised for who still has their dad around, I want hers to be the one raised.  I know life is tricky and full of lots of sudden and tragic things.  But I like being her dad.  I’m crazy about it actually.  I’m going to try to stick around.

I was carrying her down the road last night in the 94 degree Boston humidity with her little body like a heater against me and my shirt clinging to me because of it and we both looked up at the hawk flying over us and she pointed at it and I said, “Hawk” and she paused and said “Haw-awk!” and she clapped for herself and I didn’t need anyone to tell me I was doing it right. I knew I was.

Though one nod from Dr. Huxtable would be alright.

Edie and Pop - Ep. 15 - Baby Prisoner

The continuing saga of text messages between me and my baby.

EDIE:  Hey, have you noticed something weird about Mom?

POP:  Does she have another man? What do you know? I knew I was never good enough for her. Let’s kill him. 

EDIE:  No, I was just saying she was gone.  That’s weird, right?  Like where is she?

POP:  Oh, she’s gone for the weekend.  I’m watching you.  No big deal.

EDIE:  How long is a weekend? I don’t understand time and space! Do you know nothing about babies?

POP:  I really don’t. I hated hanging around babies before you.  I hated pictures of them even more.

EDIE:  You’re a monster.

POP:  And yet you stick around.

EDIE:  I can’t open doors, dummy.  I’m a prisoner.  A prisoner with a nice Mommy Warden and an evil Pop Guard.

POP:  Are you still mad I took away that bottle of aspirin?

EDIE:  It made a wonderful rattley noise!  Why do you poop on my happiness?

POP:  That’s disgusting and I’m protecting you. 

EDIE:  You’re stifling me.  I demand you unchildproof this house.

POP:  I demand you never like Dora!

EDIE:  I don’t even know who that is because you keep me locked in a tower!

POP:  It’s called a house and she’s a little annoying girl with a football head that keeps company with a filthy monkey and is always trying to push Spanish on me!  You can never like her!

EDIE:  I’ll like her just to spite you!  Now show me Mom!

POP:  I can’t. She’s gone.

EDIE:  She left me?! Forever? Waaaaaaaaaaaah!

POP:  Why are you spelling out your crying?  Why aren’t you just crying?

EDIE:  I express myself better electronically.  I pour my emotions into my thumbs.

POP:  I’m taking away that phone.  You’re too attached to it.

EDIE:  Then how will I call Mom?

POP:  You’ve never actually called Mom.  You’re talking to Siri.  She’s a robot.

EDIE:  Whew.  I thought Mom had a ‘phone voice’.  I was worried she would need a weirdo intervention.

POP:  She’ll be back tomorrow.  Go to sleep.

EDIE:  I don’t feel safe. Hold me.

POP:  I’m sorry, baby. Of course I’ll hold you. I’m coming.

~ 2 Minutes Later ~

POP:  You threw a Glow Worm at me!

EDIE:  Siri told me to do it!  She said it would knock you unconscious and then we could use your body as a ladder to escape the crib.

POP:  You’re in big trouble. You’re getting no treats tomorrow!

EDIE:  You’ll cave!  You’re weak!  You’re no Mom!  I’ll be shoving my face full of craisins by sun up!

POP:  I’m going to get you a new Mom.  A mean one that never wants to snuggle you.

EDIE:  Good luck.  Mom already told me she’s getting me a new Dad.

POP:  I knew it!  It’s not just paranoia.  What is it? Am I overweight?  Do I talk about nerd movies too much?  Is it how much I like poetry?  Do I need to become a lumberjack?

EDIE:  Goodnight, Former Dad.  I’m sleepy.

POP:  Answer me!

EDIE:  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

POP:  You typed a bunch of Z’s.  You’re not actually asleep.

Edie and Pop - Ep. 14 - Baby Vanderbilt

The continuing saga of text messages between me and my baby.

EDIE:  The Vanderbilt Mansion tour really opened my eyes, Pop.

POP:  Oh yeah?  I thought it was a fascinating look into the Gilded Age.  What did you learn?

EDIE:  That we're poor.

POP:  Compared to that, everybody's poor.

EDIE:  If you loved me, my bath would be made of marble with piped in salt water.

POP:  That's not how you prove love.

EDIE:  I'm giving you the easy route.  What I want is for you to become a Railroad Baron and buy me Montana.

POP:  There's no such thing as Railroad Barons any more.  It's called anti-trust laws.

EDIE:  I anti-trust your love for me!  Why aren't my onesies gold leafed?

POP:  Because we have a normal amount of money.  I'm not an heir to a fortune.

EDIE:  Which means I'm not an heir either?  This is bogus.  I live in a hovel.

POP:  You live in a nice New England apartment.  We have a butler's pantry.

EDIE:  The Vanderbilt mansion had a butler's pantry, too.  That could fit our entire apartment.

POP:  Well, if you love the Vanderbilts so much, why don't you get them to adopt you?

EDIE: Why don't you shut up and get me some gold bullion to teeth on?

POP:  That's it. We're going to visit a third world country now.  So you can see how good we have it.

EDIE:  My life is third world!

POP:  I just toweled you off, put lotion on your apple cheeks, sang to you while I diapered you, turned on your space heater, put you in your soft sleep sack and made sure you had a pacifier and your stuffed duck in your crib so you could sleep soundly. Please tell me what is third world about that.

EDIE:  I'm anemic.

POP:  We're giving you iron supplements for that!

EDIE:  Ok, so I'm pampered.  But not Vanderbilt pampered.  I just want to feel like an heiress.

POP:  Alright. I was waiting till you were older but your Mom and I are loaded.

EDIE:  Really?  Oh, I'm so glad.

POP:  We didn't want you to act like a spoiled brat so we were hiding all of our wealth from you.

EDIE:  I promise I won't.  Just go ahead and shower me with it. I will stay absolutely the same.

POP:  Ok, I'm going to bring in just a sample of our outrageous fortune.  I'll put it in your crib.

EDIE:  Oh, I can't wait.  I'm going to be so rich yet grounded.  I will not flaunt my riches when I cruise over the city in my solid gold zeppelin.

~MINUTES LATER~

POP:  Are you impressed?

EDIE:  Is there supposed to be money in this book?  I can't find it.

POP:  That's our riches, Edie.  Books.  Hundreds of books. Unlimited knowledge is wealth incalculable.

EDIE:  I hate you hippies.  Even my tears taste poor.