Dad Braids His Daughter's Hair

Dear old dad braids his daughter's hair while mom is unavailable. S. (age 9) actually let me do it, which was a surprise. And she didn't tear my head off when I did a crappy job. That surprised me, too. She said the braid was a little loose at the top, but that it was pretty good overall. Either S. is mellowing out, or I'm actually getting better at braiding hair. Or, most likely, last night's laid-back attitude was just an anomaly.

(Photo credit: L. [8 y/o])

Tales of a Third-Grade Bathroom Monitor

When I picked her up from school on Wednesday, L. announced that she had been given a class job that she will keep until October. She is now the "Bathroom Monitor" for the girls. She sounded excited, and said it was a "pretty cool" job. 

She further explained that the job entails making sure only six girls are in the bathroom at any given time. So, after the first six girls go in, she has the remainder of her classmates wait in line until a spot in a stall opens up. And one by one she lets them use the john. She also apparently monitors usage of the drinking fountain.

On Friday, I overheard the following conversation between L. and S.

L. "Today a girl was in a stall and another girl in my class went in and was banging on the door of the stall really hard. She wanted to use that stall even though there was already somebody in it. She could have used an empty one, but It's her favorite stall, and she'll only use that one."

S.: "[One of my friends] always uses the fifth stall. She won't use any of the others."

Huh. I guess it's not just college students who are creatures of habit, always sitting at the same desk class after class. Though I've never seen any of my students squabble over their favorite seat.

First Day of School: Creative Ideas for Breakfast and Lunch

Well, today is the first day of a new school year. We have a newly minted fourth grader, a third grader, and a first grader. Here they are ready to go:

In keeping with tradition, Katie made the girls fancy breakfasts: pancakes shaped like bear faces, with bacon or sausage for the mouth, chocolate chips for the nose, scrambled eggs for the eyes, chocolate chips for the pupils, and slices of banana for the hair on the top of the bears' heads:

The coolest part, though, was the lunches Katie made. I photographed just the first grader's lunch as an example:

As you can see, the sandwich is cut into the shape of a fish. And on the baggie is written, "You Are 'O' fish ally a 1st grader.:

Cucumber slices cut in the shape of stars using a cookie cutter. It says, "Even the starfish are impressed."

Half an apple with grapes attached by tooothpicks makes a sea turtle. On the bag is written, "Sea Turtle says Totally Tubular Dude!"

A bag of goldfish crackers. The baggie says "Just Keep Swimming! Just Keep Swimming!"

And last but not least, dessert. The heart-shaped cookie says "LOV U"

And they're off! Good luck today little ladies! Remember mommy and daddy love you!

Road Rage in an 8-yr-old girl

On the way to the kids' Back To School night this evening, I was waiting to turn left at a traffic light and the person in front of me refused to budge even though the light was green and there was no oncoming traffic. We were running late and I was a bit impatient. So I said, "You can go, there's no traffic! You can go!"

And L. called out from the back of the van, "Yeah, go, you jerk!"

Katie spun in her seat. "Leila, we DO NOT call names!"

L. replied, "But dad does that to people all the time when he takes me to school."

*facepalm*

Dearest daughter, a few words if I may:

1st: I do not call other drivers "jerks." Other names, perhaps, but not "jerks."

2nd: Try to rise above your father's imperfections, rather than mimic them.

3rd: Thank you for throwing me under the bus and getting me in trouble with your mother. Next time, a simple "Okay, mom" will suffice.

The child looks so innocent, no?

In Which My 8-yr-old Daughter Considers Becoming Either a Politician or a Musician When She Grows Up

Remember how L. (8 y/o daughter) kept saying last year that she wanted to be president of the U.S. when she grows up? Today in the car, she and S. (9 y/o daughter) were discussing the assassinations of politicians and prominent historical figures. They talked about Abraham Lincoln, John F. Kennedy, James A. Garfield, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Malcolm X. Near the end of that discussion, L. said she had been reconsidering running for president, given the risks involved. She said she probably would prefer to be a celebrity -- like a music star -- since that would be a lot safer. And I said, "Tell that to John Lennon."

The conversation reminded me of a song I learned in my junior high school choir class three decades ago: "Abraham, Martin, and John"

In Which My Daughters Debate the Merits of My Beginning a Regular Exercise Program

Episode 1: lunchtime

This morning Katie took the kids with her to exercise with a group of friends. They have returned from that adventure and are now eating lunch as I sit on the couch grading student papers. The 9 y/o and 8 y/o are talking about exercise. A moment ago, the 8 y/o wondered aloud if "dad" likes to exercise. The 9 y/o's guess was that I do not. So they asked me. I told them I *should* exercise to be healthy, but admitted that I do not like to exercise. The 9 y/o turned to the 8 y/o and said, "See! I told you!" The 8 y/o then said that she thinks I should start exercising regularly. And the 9 y/o said, "No! If he exercises, he'll lose his stomach, and I like it. It makes such a comfortable pillow!"

Well, far be it from me to deprive my oldest daughter of a perfectly comfortable pillow!

Episode 2: dinnertime

The dinnertime conversation was similar to today's lunchtime conversation. Clearly the subject of exercise is on the girls' minds. The 6 y/o instructed me, "Dad, you should start doing curl-ups [crunches?] so that your stomach is not so fat." After a short pause, she tried to mitigate the damage. "Not that it's really fat, but I think I could bounce on your tummy."

Nice mitigation job, 6 y/o! Niiiice! That made it all better.

A Day at the Water Park with My Daughters

At the city water park today I dunked my head under the water. When I stood back up, the two oldest girls shouted at the same time, "Dad! You look like you have hair!"

Really? *That's* all it takes to make me look like I have hair? No Rogaine, hair transplants, or throw-rugs for me then. All I gotta do is dunk my head in a pool. I do love simple solutions!

Oh How I Loathe Mowing Lawns in the August Heat

A word concerning the mowing of lawns in the infernal August heat:
pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
Yes, I know that has nothing to do with lawn care, but citing a word with only four letters in it seemed grossly insufficient to describe my feelings on the subject today.


P.S. Katie I finally mowed the lawn!! And if that's not true love, what is? 
In an unrelated matter, I found our missing Saturn sedan!

The Sacrifices of Fatherhood, in a Nutshell

Fatherhood (n): Turning off the car radio in the middle of Van Halen's "Jump" so that your daughters can watch "Barbie: Princess and the Popstar" on the minivan's DVD player as you travel endlessly through the conurbation that is Dallas-Fort Worth.

Of Wedding Anniversaries and Historians

I posted this on Facebook yesterday for my wedding anniversary:

At the time Katie and I got married, I already had a Masters Degree in history. Why do I bring this up? Because you'd think a fella with a graduate degree in history could have picked a better day of the year to marry his sweetheart.

August 9, 1877 the Nez Perce, who are attempting to flee to Canada to safety, fight against the U.S. Army in the Battle of the Big Hole. Eighty-nine Indians and 29 U.S. soldiers are killed.

August 9, 1945 the U.S. drops an atomic bomb on Nagasaki, Japan, killing somewhere between 60,000 and 80,000 people.

August 9, 1969 Actress Sharon Tate is found murdered.

August 9, 1974 President Richard Nixon resigns the presidency amid scandal in order to avoid impeachment.

On the bright side, however . . .

August 9, 2005 Dale and Katie get married

August 9, 2015 To celebrate their tenth anniversary, Dale takes Katie on a trip to Paris -- Paris, Texas, that is.

In My Daughter's Eyes, I am No Hero

This morning I took my 6-year-old daughter, C., to her appointment with the pulmonologist. Nine-year-old S. came along. As part of the routine, C. got her breathing ability tested in a lab. This particular lab is staffed primarily with large men -- say 6' 4" 250 lbs and up -- with gray hair and beards. C. finds them rather intimidating. While we sat waiting in the lab, she told her big sister that the "boys" who do the testing are "big, tough, and mean." And S. observed that, in contrast, their daddy "isn't big, tough, or mean."

I'm not big and tough, S.?! What do you mean, I'm not big and tough? Of course I am! You are only nine years old. Therefore, you should view me as big and tough for four more years.

Don't let reality cloud your vision already, kid. There'll be time enough for that later.

‪#‎InMyDaughtersEyesIAmSmallAndFrail‬

‪#‎ShesNotEven13Yet‬

The Hazards of Roller-Skating with a Six-Year-Old

I took the girls rollerskating today -- gotta use up their coupons for free stuff before summer vacation's over, ya know. I don't know what I found more disturbing: the fact that many adults and teens racing around the rink paid no heed to their surroundings because they were so engrossed in their phones, or the fact that my six-year-old daughter informed me, "Dad, you need to learn how to skate better!"

Bedtime Routines and Crazy Fathers

As per usual, when I got home from work this evening, I went to check on the girls, who were in bed. S., age 9, was the only one still awake.

Me: "Goodnight S. I love you!"

S. <rolls eyes>: "How could I ever forget?"

Me: "You can't. But I'll still be telling you the same thing every day when you're forty."

S. <buries face in pillow>: "Crazy dad."

If a father who frequently tells his forty-year-old daughter that he loves her is crazy, I'll gladly wear that label.