Yesterday morning I got a call on my cell phone. It was my mother-in-law calling from my house, where she was watching Beth and making sure she got off to school. She wanted me to talk to my daughter about her suspiciously sudden illness (right before it was time to leave for school).
I talked to Beth for about ten minutes and convinced her that staying home sick wouldn’t be much fun (I…
It started innocently.
“Beth, I’m not sure you should ride your bike until I can tighten those training wheels, unless of course you want me to take them off?”
“Alright dad, take them off.”
Fifteen minutes later we were together on the sidewalk; father, daughter, and bicycle. The father was standing behind it all, grasping the seat. The daughter was astride the bike…
In the south…
I have it on good authority that if John Kerry is elected president, kids will have to go to school on Saturdays and Sundays, and they will only have brussel sprouts and cabbage for lunch in the cafeteria.
George Bush, on the other hand, has the courage to take on the liberal school boards. He has the backbone to take on the vegan lobby. He has the strength of character to stay…
On the first day of second grade my daughter said to me: “I liked my teacher, but she asked me to stop raising my hand so much.” Now my curiosity was piqued. “What were you saying to your teacher when you raised your hand Beth?” “Well, one time I told her I liked her shoes.” It was like the fog cleared from the shore and I could see for miles. The image of Beth…
I’m looking out the window that someone at my salary level has no right having. I’m looking at the sun peaking out from between the clouds, and it’s like being smacked in the face with a metaphor. This morning, unlike the mornings of the last three weeks, was a ’50s sitcom morning. The only missing image was me in a suit and tie. The only mismatched image was Cheryl’s…
Beth is a tough nut to crack, but she’s even harder to read. The lead into the new school year had all the emotion of a new pair of socks. (What do I have against socks? Why am I picking on socks in general? As a child, I was permanently scarred by the cruel and unusual gift of socks on Christmas morning.) It was so unlike my experience. I remember the first day of elementary school with all…
Picture a large room with a heavy duty anchor in middle of the ceiling, a five foot long net hanging from this single anchor, and a new piece of furniture off to one side. How long do you suppose it would take a seven year old child to figure out this new piece of furniture would make a good launching point for a wicked cool Tarzan swing?
If you were the mother of this child, would you be angry if…
In an age where everything has a sub-category (new-born, infant, toddler, tweener, teenager, young adult, ad infinitum), I have no idea what to call to Beth. To me she is simply a child. Like children from sea to shining sea, her life is about as complicated as a Happy Meal toy. Why then is she singing along with the radio in the back seat with passion, “… why’d you have to go…
Death? Taxes? The Yankees wining another World Series? A six year old child with an attention deficit, a pinch of hyperactivity, and a bow and arrow?
Yes, Beth had a busy day on Wednesday. I was picking her up from camp and her group leader was explaining all of the activities they participated in that day. They started with a hike through a local park, followed by some canoeing, another hike…
Everyone has their quirks. Me? I feel compelled to share my life with anyone who cares to read about it (which, admittedly, probably isn’t very many). By all accounts, Beth seems to be a budding conservationalist. Nothing she acquires, no matter how mundane or inherently disposable, can be thrown out without great deliberation. No resource, no matter how consumable or desired, may be…