Dear Mom hop, two, three
Claire started Irish Dance lessons this month. For 4 years now she has watched the brightly colored dancers up on stage and you could see her dreamy eyed stares were conjuring up visions of dancing beside them.
She would imitate their twirls and jumps oblivious to onlookers and in her head she was as fabulous as any a dancer ever was, which means she thought she was half as graceful as she looked through my eyes.
The day she turned five she asked me, “Daddy, do I start dance lessons this week?” I had already found out lessons did not start till August. “You have to wait till the end of the summer.” I reassured her the time would come but it was little comfort. Every week she would count them down, “How many days now?” She would ask, then counting days on an imaginary calendar she would wrinkle up her nose. However many days that was it was entirely too many. “So does today count as a day?” Anything to shorten the time. “Yes, today is a day, but it does not count as a full day till you go to bed. So, when you go to bed tonight and wake up in the morning it will be one less day.” I had tried many versions of this explanation but none of them seemed to do anything but require more questions.
As August approached the start of dance class was pushed to September. Then as September approached it was pushed to October, then November. FINALLY, classes would start. Now after two classes her entire calendar is set by dance class night. There are no more Monday or Tuesdays, it is the day before dance class or the two days before dance class, then afterwards Thursday is the day after dance class. “How many more days till dance class Daddy?”
The instructor does not allow parents to watch. I have found a pub close by to wait out the class. She comes out all smiles. I ask her, “What did you learn today?” “Hop, two, three,” she answers. “Can you show me?” This inspires a barely comprehensible sequence of her feet moving that I encourage with a, “Great job! Can you teach me that?” “Maybe,” she answers, “it is very difficult.”
In the car as we are fastening out seatbelts she asks, “How many days till dance class Daddy?”
I am sympathetic to her plight and I want her to be excited about learning something new, but I refuse to wish for a single day to pass by any faster.
Love Mike
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Dear Mom we should get two pumpkins
Dear Mom we should get two pumpkins
This October was warmer than usual and that causes some serious problems when it comes to pumpkin carving. Claire had started requesting to carve pumpkins the moment they started to appear at the grocery store.
“It is too warm,” I told her, “They will not last till Halloween.”
“They will get old very fast?” she pondered.
“Yes Sweetie the heat makes them age very fast.”
I am sure she was conjuring up images of last year’s pumpkin melting on our doorstep.
She mentioned it a few times over the next week but never pressed it. The inevitable demise of her pumpkin seemed a good enough reason to put off it’s acquisition. Then one day, out of the blue. “Daddy we need to get two pumpkins.”
“We do?” I was very curious where this came from.
“Yea, we get two so we can carve one today and save one for Halloween for when the first one gets all shrively.”
This was impeccable logic! How brilliant! We get two pumpkins, one for now and one for later. Not only have we conquered the not having a pumpkin at Halloween, we also double our fun and get to carve two pumpkins!
“That is brilliant honey, what a great idea!” I was beaming as much as she was at this point. It was obvious to me she was bound for greatness. I imagine one day I will be smiling the exact same way when she announces, “Daddy, I have found a cure for cancer!”
As I turned off the road heading into the parking lot of the nearest grocery store, I was still floored at the notion. She came up with this herself. I pondered the possibility of there having been a cartoon where the main character had to face similar obstacles to getting a pumpkin. But really, this was still brilliant.
It took us most of 10 minutes to pick out two perfect pumpkins. She did not go for the biggest ones and she did not go for the most round, or the most orange. Pumpkin picking must be more complex than I remembered it. She carefully picked up some, others she just looked at or patted. Then once she had the right one she looked at me, “This one Daddy!”
With our Pumpkins in the cart we headed to the car. We carefully placed them in the trunk and headed home.
She pondered pumpkin ideas in her head. “The first one is going to be a pirate pumpkin, the second one I will decide later, because we have some time before Halloween.”
The pirate pumpkin did not last long, but that was okay, because we had a spare.
Love Mike
This October was warmer than usual and that causes some serious problems when it comes to pumpkin carving. Claire had started requesting to carve pumpkins the moment they started to appear at the grocery store.
“It is too warm,” I told her, “They will not last till Halloween.”
“They will get old very fast?” she pondered.
“Yes Sweetie the heat makes them age very fast.”
I am sure she was conjuring up images of last year’s pumpkin melting on our doorstep.
She mentioned it a few times over the next week but never pressed it. The inevitable demise of her pumpkin seemed a good enough reason to put off it’s acquisition. Then one day, out of the blue. “Daddy we need to get two pumpkins.”
“We do?” I was very curious where this came from.
“Yea, we get two so we can carve one today and save one for Halloween for when the first one gets all shrively.”
This was impeccable logic! How brilliant! We get two pumpkins, one for now and one for later. Not only have we conquered the not having a pumpkin at Halloween, we also double our fun and get to carve two pumpkins!
“That is brilliant honey, what a great idea!” I was beaming as much as she was at this point. It was obvious to me she was bound for greatness. I imagine one day I will be smiling the exact same way when she announces, “Daddy, I have found a cure for cancer!”
As I turned off the road heading into the parking lot of the nearest grocery store, I was still floored at the notion. She came up with this herself. I pondered the possibility of there having been a cartoon where the main character had to face similar obstacles to getting a pumpkin. But really, this was still brilliant.
It took us most of 10 minutes to pick out two perfect pumpkins. She did not go for the biggest ones and she did not go for the most round, or the most orange. Pumpkin picking must be more complex than I remembered it. She carefully picked up some, others she just looked at or patted. Then once she had the right one she looked at me, “This one Daddy!”
With our Pumpkins in the cart we headed to the car. We carefully placed them in the trunk and headed home.
She pondered pumpkin ideas in her head. “The first one is going to be a pirate pumpkin, the second one I will decide later, because we have some time before Halloween.”
The pirate pumpkin did not last long, but that was okay, because we had a spare.
Love Mike
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Dear Mom, it is the first snow of the year
Dear Mom, it is the first snow of the year
This morning when I woke, I looked out the window and saw it was the first snow of the year. Although we had a few flakes yesterday, this morning there was just enough snow to give the ground a mostly covered in snow look. The cars had a nice even layer over the roof and the hood and it was wintry, though not really a wonderland.
After I coaxed Claire into her clothes and made her some breakfast I went outside to start the truck. In order to be sure we were not late for school I had to make sure the windows were clear before we went outside. As it turns out the snow did not stick to the windows and there was no frost or ice so clearing the windshield was easy. I left the truck running. There is nothing like going outside and stepping into a nice warm truck.
When it was time to leave we bundled up to go. I reviewed our plan to keep track of our gloves.
“Where do we put our gloves when we take them off?”
“In our pockets!” Claire announced triumphantly.
“This coat does not have pockets, so we put them in our sleeve or our backpack, remember?”
“Oh yea,” she pondered this, “Why does this coat not have pockets?”
“Because of a concept you will not understand till you are a teenager.”
“What concept?” She was not going to be easy to deflect.
“Image before substance. At some point someone decided that coat would look fancier without pockets so they didn’t put any in the coat.”
“So I use my sleeve?”
“Right, you use your sleeve.” That was easier than I expected. I can see her explaining it to some five year olds now. “Do you know why your coat has no pockets? Image before substance!”
As we stepped out the door I watched as her face lit up. There are few things as magical as a child’s infatuation with snow.
“IT SNOWED!” She was grinning ear to ear and I could see visions of snowballs and snowmen swirling so violently in her head stray images were popping out her ears and wafting about her brow. It was not that slick out but I took her hand and lead her to the truck door. “Is this real snow Daddy?” “No,” I teased, “it’s fake snow.”
The question was not altogether out of place. A couple of weeks earlier she had walked out to see the first big frost. Thinking it was snow she was excited till I explained the difference. Now she was not going to completely commit to happiness till she was sure it was real snow. My teasing could not quell the mood. “No, it’s not fake! This I real snow.” She kicked at it a bit. As I put her in the seat and handed her the seat belt, she was absent mindedly pointing the clasp in the right direction while she busied the rest of her attention looking around our mostly white neighborhood. With a little help we buckled up and were on our way.
“This sure is real snow.” She reinforced her contention, as if I would try to argue with her.
“Ahhh.” She saddened a bit as she saw there was rain falling now, instead of snow.
“Don’t worry Sweety it is a little warm now but it will snow plenty this year, we will see it again.”
An irritated grimace now fought with the immovable smile that had taken over her face. By the time we arrived at school the smile had won and she rushed into the school to share her excitement with her friends.
As I finish this letter the snow is all but gone. It is amazing what the warmth of one smile can accomplish.
Love Mike
This morning when I woke, I looked out the window and saw it was the first snow of the year. Although we had a few flakes yesterday, this morning there was just enough snow to give the ground a mostly covered in snow look. The cars had a nice even layer over the roof and the hood and it was wintry, though not really a wonderland.
After I coaxed Claire into her clothes and made her some breakfast I went outside to start the truck. In order to be sure we were not late for school I had to make sure the windows were clear before we went outside. As it turns out the snow did not stick to the windows and there was no frost or ice so clearing the windshield was easy. I left the truck running. There is nothing like going outside and stepping into a nice warm truck.
When it was time to leave we bundled up to go. I reviewed our plan to keep track of our gloves.
“Where do we put our gloves when we take them off?”
“In our pockets!” Claire announced triumphantly.
“This coat does not have pockets, so we put them in our sleeve or our backpack, remember?”
“Oh yea,” she pondered this, “Why does this coat not have pockets?”
“Because of a concept you will not understand till you are a teenager.”
“What concept?” She was not going to be easy to deflect.
“Image before substance. At some point someone decided that coat would look fancier without pockets so they didn’t put any in the coat.”
“So I use my sleeve?”
“Right, you use your sleeve.” That was easier than I expected. I can see her explaining it to some five year olds now. “Do you know why your coat has no pockets? Image before substance!”
As we stepped out the door I watched as her face lit up. There are few things as magical as a child’s infatuation with snow.
“IT SNOWED!” She was grinning ear to ear and I could see visions of snowballs and snowmen swirling so violently in her head stray images were popping out her ears and wafting about her brow. It was not that slick out but I took her hand and lead her to the truck door. “Is this real snow Daddy?” “No,” I teased, “it’s fake snow.”
The question was not altogether out of place. A couple of weeks earlier she had walked out to see the first big frost. Thinking it was snow she was excited till I explained the difference. Now she was not going to completely commit to happiness till she was sure it was real snow. My teasing could not quell the mood. “No, it’s not fake! This I real snow.” She kicked at it a bit. As I put her in the seat and handed her the seat belt, she was absent mindedly pointing the clasp in the right direction while she busied the rest of her attention looking around our mostly white neighborhood. With a little help we buckled up and were on our way.
“This sure is real snow.” She reinforced her contention, as if I would try to argue with her.
“Ahhh.” She saddened a bit as she saw there was rain falling now, instead of snow.
“Don’t worry Sweety it is a little warm now but it will snow plenty this year, we will see it again.”
An irritated grimace now fought with the immovable smile that had taken over her face. By the time we arrived at school the smile had won and she rushed into the school to share her excitement with her friends.
As I finish this letter the snow is all but gone. It is amazing what the warmth of one smile can accomplish.
Love Mike
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