You know, I could pick up the phone right now (well, not right now because it's 10:12 PM, but during normal business hours) and find someone to teach my daughter
The four of us were in the grocery store when the following question echoed through the produce section, "Where do babies come from?"
Oh hell, I thought. This is not the right time for this conversation.
Actually, I don't have a clue when this conversation should take place. But I do know it only involves Zoey and her mother and does not take place in Piggly Wiggly. So I tried to move the conversation along.
"You already know where babies come from, Zoey. Do you want any grapes for snack this week?"
"I know I was in Mommy's belly. But how did I get out?"
"Do you want grapes for snack this week?"
"Did I come out her butt?"
As we tried to stifle our laughter, Ella said, "No, honey. You didn't come out of my butt."
Zoey looked confused. After a few seconds, she finally asked, "Then were did I hatch out of?"
We really need to sit down and have The Talk.
My daughter had a test last week on the different states of matter. For extra credit, she was asked to draw and label an example of a gas, a solid, and a liquid.
For gas, she drew air. It looked like bubbles to me, but how does one draw air?
For solid, she drew a block a cheese.
For liquid, she drew a bottle of wine.
The hell, Zoey? We don't even drink wine. Now your teacher probably thinks we're lushes or worse -- a couple of assholes who sit around eating wine and cheese and listen to NPR.
I really need to stop taking her to the fancy grocery stores.
The following came from the backseat on the way to camp this morning:
Zoey: Daddy, can I get married when I'm thirteen?
I just ignored it. Actually, I had to ignore it because I died right there in the car.
Five minutes later...
Zoey: When I grow up, I'm going to be an environmental scientist and make medicine for the Earth.
Sorry, babe. Too little, too late. You should've led off with this.
Everyone has a talent.
Well, maybe not everyone. I'm still searching for mine.
Let's start again.
Almost everyone has a talent. My daughter has many; I could list them all but then everyone would accuse me of bragging (even though as her father, that's kind of my job).
She also has a talent most people aren't aware of: she's a great fly catcher.
Before you think we live in a garbage can, let me assure you she does not get much practice. Occasionally, a fly will make its way into the house. Upon spotting it, my daughter will track it throughout the rooms until it is within her reach and then -- SNATCH! -- grab it from the air.
I have no doubt if someone gave her a pair of chopsticks, she could catch a fly like Daniel-san. Why? She once caught a fly with a jewelry box. She opened the box that once housed earrings, waited until the fly came close, and then shut that sucker inside the box. We didn't believe she really caught it until she opened the box and the fly buzzed away.
She's going to make one hell of an exterminator one day.
On Saturday, a horsefly flew inside our home. "Daddy! Daddy! There's a wasp in the bathroom!"
"That's not a wasp. That's a horsefly."
"What's a horsefly?"
"It's like a Super Fly."
"Oh… Let's get it!" she yelled. I could see the bloodthirstiness in her eyes. She ran, found a newspaper, handed it to me, and yelled, "Nick it! Nick it!" I took a few swings, but the fly eluded me. Finally, I threw the newspaper on the floor and within seconds, caught the fly in my hand. I threw it into the toilet. Zoey flushed the toilet and said, "Nice job, Dad!" and gave me a high-five.
You really can't put a price on bonding moments.
I had never seen my daughter want anything before.
Sure, she wants things. A new bike. A Wii. This, that, and everything else she sees on the shelves at Target.
But nothing like this. And nothing this badly.
A week ago, Zoey came home all excited.
"I think I'm going to have a part in our school play!"
Each grade performs its own play/musical near the end of the school year. And since every kid in each grade is a performer in the play, I didn't think too much of it. "Oh really?" I asked.
"YES! I'm going to be one of the main characters! I'll have lines and get to sing all by myself!"
I knew there could only be three to five main characters, tops. All the other kids would be members of the chorus. "Really? What about the rest of the kids in your class?"
"They're all going to be animals."
She had relegated her classmates to background character status. She was going to be the STAR. I really don't know where she gets this from. Even though I played piano at weddings and sang for several bands, I was the guy who threw up before every gig.
I wish I had half her self-esteem.
For the past week, she's been talking about the play nonstop. Last night, after I finished reading to her before bedtime, she said, "Daddy, I really hope I get the part."
"I know you do. I hope you get it, too. But if you don't, you can always try again next time."
"I know."
When she got in the car this afternoon, I asked her, "Did you find out?"
"Find out what?"
"Did you get the part?"
"I got it," she answered in a tone that said Of course I got it. There was never any doubt. Because in her mind, there wasn't any doubt.
And I hope that's always the case.
I was playing Crazy Eights with Zoey when she asked me what one thousand and one thousand was.
"Two thousand," I replied.
"What's two thousand plus two thousand?"
"Four thousand."
"Wow! It's just like ten plus ten and twenty plus twenty."
"Right. Or one plus one and two plus two. That's why you're starting to learn math rules at school, to make it easier for you to add and subtract large numbers."
"Daddy, you're good with this stuff. You know what? You'd make a great..."
It was at this point I was getting ready to put on my Humble Hat, and tell her that teaching was a very difficult and honorable profession and one that I'd probably not be very good at.
"class helper."
It's officially Cynical Dad Day on the east coast!
Ella and the kids gave me my birthday present on Monday evening. It had just come in the mail and they were way too excited to wait until morning.
But first, some backstory.
Six months ago, my daughter started drawing musical instruments. One day, she drew a drummer behind a drum kit (which was really a hint to let us know she wanted a drum set for Christmas). I fell in love with the picture and told her it looked like a real drummer in a real rock band. She asked me to name a rock band, which she then wrote above the picture.
Fast forward to Monday evening when I received the world's coolest concert tee: my brand-new Guns N' Roses shirt!
I'm sure some of you saw my family on MSNBC, CNN, or FOX News over the weekend. Or maybe you heard us on NPR. For those of you who may have missed our interviews, you'll be happy to know that the long national nightmare is finally over: Tooth Watch '09 has officially ended. Zoey finally lost her first tooth!
Yeah, I know. Your kids have all lost teeth. It's no big deal.
Tell that to my daughter. You would've thought she was the first person EVER to have lost a tooth.
When she first discovered it was loose, we all had to touch it approximately 18,326 times a day to see if we could feel it wiggle. She's spent the past week flicking it back and forth with her tongue, alternately disgusting and wowing us with the little strand of whatthehellever that holds the tooth to the jaw.
But now that it's out, what the hell do we do with it? Right now it's in a plastic baggie in my underwear drawer. Part of me thinks I should keep it for nostalgia's sake (and probably not in my underwear drawer), but another part of me feels that keeping any body part is the first stop on the journey to Dahmerville.
But then again, you never know when you might need to whip up a voodoo spell that calls for a tooth.
Song of the day: Crooked Teeth by Death Cab For Cutie
I lost my High School Musical virginity this weekend. And while it was nowhere near as enjoyable as the real thing, it was just as messy.
Zoey received a very good report card last week, so we asked her what she would like to do to celebrate. She told us she wanted to go see High School Musical 3: Senior Year. But because I am anal and will refuse to watch a movie if I've missed the first five minutes of it, there was no way I was going to hop on the HSM train on the caboose of the trilogy. So I suggested a double feature of the first two flicks instead.
I knew most of the kids in my daughter's class had seen these movies long before now. Hell, the little boy down the street has High School Musical trading cards. But I have always believed that since these movies are about high school kids, they were inappropriate for my six-year-old daughter.
I was mistaken. You'll see far worse in an average episode of Hannah Montana than you'll see in High School Musical or High School Musical 2.
My daughter, of course, loved the movies. She already knew most of the songs thanks to YouTube, Radio Disney, and countless birthday parties. But even she had problems with the flicks.
At the end of High School Musical, while the whole school was singing We're All In This Together, Zoey turned to us and said, "What is this crap?" I felt a small tug at my heart, knowing that my young daughter could realize that all these teens from different social backgrounds (cheerleaders, jocks, band geeks, brains, Drama Club kids, etc.) wouldn't be singing such a song together. I was beaming with pride.
Then today, when we were watching the second movie and Zac Efron's character got all pissy and ran outside and started belting Bet On It, my daughter muttered, "Oh, please."
Ella looked at me and said, "I don't know if I can live with two of you."
Song of the day: You Are The Music In Me (Sharpay Version) from High School Musical 2
As I was reading to Zoey before bedtime, she informed me she wasn't going to school tomorrow.
"Why not?"
"I have too many troubles."
"You're in first grade! What troubles do you have?"
"Homework and boyfriends!"
Song of the day: I Hear The Call by The Unforgiven
The other night we had a major thunderstorm roll through our area. At one point, the vibration from the thunder knocked a picture off the wall.
As soon as Zoey heard that particular clap of thunder, she jumped into my arms like a cat, ready to claw out my eyeballs if the storm didn't come to an immediate stop.
Zed, on the other hand, ran to the window, signed "More," and shouted, "Agee! Agee!" (his word for again).
Song of the day: You're No Rock 'N' Roll Fun by Sleater-Kinney
When you're young, you can't get older fast enough. But when you reach a certain age, you wish you could reverse the aging process. At what age does this phenomenon plateau and you're genuinely happy with the age you are? That number probably has a lot to do with the amount of sex you're getting.
Zoey and I were at the park the other day. She was riding her bicycle and I was walking next to her. An elderly lady came up to us, smiled, and said, "It won't be long before your Daddy will be teaching you how to drive a car!"
"Tell me about it!" I replied as we continued on our way. I looked over at Zoey, who was beaming from ear to ear.
"Why are you so happy?" I asked.
"I bet that lady thought I was TWELVE!" she exclaimed.
Song of the day: The Rainbow Connection by Kermit The Frog
When you hear her scream at the television, "God, Joe! Why can't you figure this out? It's sooooo easy!" I was expecting her to throw a brick through the screen.
P.S. Do yourself a favor and watch the video below. The song isn't that great (even though it features David Byrne on vocals). But the video is funny as hell. This is proof the music video isn't dead. Yet.
Song of the day: Toe Jam by Brighton Port Authority
Be careful when you let your children watch Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana.
This is not a post condemning her Vanity Fair photo spread. More power to her! I've been after Vanity Fair to post topless photos of me for years but they've yet to return my calls. Bastards.
Awhile back, I started letting Zoey watch Hannah Montana. While she enjoys the show (she watches it about once a week but I'm always nearby with my hand on the remote, ready to act if things get out of hand (kissing, inappropriate language, kissing, etc.)), she's more into Hannah's music. Recently, we started watching some of Hannah's videos on YouTube. Then we branched out to High School Musical numbers and other songs she has heard on Radio Disney.
Well, she has digested all those dance moves from YouTube, processed them with her five-year-old brain, and has come up with her own dance routines.
And now my daughter dances like a stripper.
The end.
GHS: 7
Footnote: It's been a long time since the wife and I have been to a drag show, so what I'm about to ask could very well be common practice, but wouldn't Fabulous from High School Musical 2 be a perfect song for a drag queen to sing at a show?
Song of the day: I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor
On Saturday, we rewarded Zoey for earning great grades so far this year (and no, I don't feel like getting into a debate about whether children should be rewarded for grades). Zoey decided to get her ears pierced.
We decided to let the fine folks at Claire's take her lobes' virginity (if it was good enough for her dad, it was good enough for her). Luckily, the place was practically empty so they were able to double team Zoey. After I had filled out the eighteen pages of paperwork, two otic adornment technicians stood on either side of Zoey, counted to three, and pushed their buttons.
Zoey turned pale. She looked at us. I didn't know if she was going to cry, puke, or faint. Luckily, she remained calm and once they held up a mirror for her to see the new earrings, she started grinning from pierced ear to pierced ear.
Now she's counting down the days until she can remove her starter earrings and put in another pair. It's going to be a long six months.
So… earrings at 5 1/2: too young, too old, or just right?
Song of the day: Dead Flowers by Townes Van Zandt
We went to a little nontraditional wedding over the weekend. It was nice; the kids had fun and so did we. During the ceremony, a girl sang a song (today's Song of the day).
On the way home, we heard the song on the radio.
"Hey!" Zoey yelled. "That's the song the guitar player sang!"
"Yes it is," I replied.
"Wow! She must be famous!" Zoey exclaimed.
"Next time you see her, make sure you get her autograph."
Song of the day: The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson
Zoey: Daddy, what did you do when you were little?
Me: I went fishing, rode my bike, played baseball, that kind of stuff.
Zoey: YOU PLAYED BASEBALL? You should've played for the Yankees!
Me: Daddy wasn't good enough.
Zoey: Maybe we should get out my T-Ball this weekend so you can practice.
Of course, if Billy Crystal can suit up for a spring training game for the Yankees, maybe I have a chance.
Song of the day: Piazza, New York Catcher by Belle & Sebastian
Zoey received an invitation to a birthday party yesterday. The child's mother had written on the invitation that instead of a gift, the child would like each partygoer to bring ten cans of food to be donated to the local Food Bank. I explained this to Zoey.
"She doesn't want presents?"
"No. She wants you to bring cans of food so she can donate them to people who don't have any food. Isn't that a nice thing to do?"
She thought about this for a moment.
"She doesn't want presents?"
"No."
"What's wrong with that girl?"
Indeed! "I don't know. She's probably just trying to get on the news or something."
Song of the day: Jesus Of Suburbia by Green Day
No. At least not the one that resides in my home.
But you knew that already.
Today as I was loading the kids into the car for one of our thrice-daily trips to Target (not really, but sometimes it feels that way), I noticed the tree in our front yard was beginning to blossom.
"Look at that, Zoey," I said. "That tree is blooming."
"That means Spring is coming!" Zoey yelled, anxious to get her shorts and dresses out of storage.
"No, it's just been warm here the past few days. The tree thinks it's Spring."
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Trees don't have brains."
I'm just glad she doesn't use the word dumbass.
Yet.
Song of the day: Stop by Against Me!
