I've got your Father's Day right here...

A belated Happy Father's Day to the approximately 3% of my readership who is both male and a father, and same to the husbands of 92% of the rest of you.

I spent my day sleeping in, using the computer (for a welcome change of pace), and playing outside with the kids, who are trying to see if it is scientifically possible to melt the paint off the walls out here in Maine with the sheer quivering force of their pent-up energy.

While that may sound all quaint on the surface, I want to know what it says about my performance as a father thus far that the most attractive games to my son involved, in however convoluted a way necessary, punching me wherever he could reach?

His 2-year-old sister swung happily on the swings for more than an hour, using the wind she generated to keep always just out of reach of the blackflies, but this lanky 5-year-old was very soon discontent with boring old swings, soccer, and basketball.

Some of the alternative games we tried were:

1) "How Dare You Steal the Ball, I Will Now Punch You in the Butt While Roaring to Get it Back,"

2) "I'll Pretend to Be the Squirrel From Ice Age Attacking a Large, Ferocious Predator as Foolishly as I Make Him Do in the Ice Age Videogame I Was Just Playing,"

3) And finally the even more convoluted, though tragically aborted, "The Basketball Court is Water, the Picnic Table is Land, and I'm a Fighter-Guy Fighting Dragons to Save People in a Way That You Somehow Know Involves You Being a Series of Dragons Who Are Foolish Enough to Just Stand Next to the Picnic Table While a Knight Works Them Over With Both Fists Until His Hands Hurt Too Much to NOT Move on to Short, Efficient Kicks Instead."

Oh, and, should you ever be put in a similar situation, be advised that catching and teasingly holding one, then a second, fist carefully aimed at your back may result in a frustrated, em-boy-sculated cry of, "Don't ever do that again! I want you to leave me alone for the rest of your life! ...if you're going to do that again."

Notice that even at five, he's perceptive enough to say "your life" instead of "my life". Nothing like a special day of recognition to remind one's parents of their sizable lead in the race towards death. Happy Father's Day again!

May you all live long enough to feel the next volley of anniversarial punches, always stronger than the last.

Where can I buy my Wii gavel?

Exciting news, folks-- remember all those wasted days in childhood spent playing baseball, riding bikes, stomping Goombas, and driving Ganon back to whence he came? Remember how what you really wanted to be doing, as you wandered after school like a lost soul searching for its rightful home, was playing an educational videogame that taught you the ins and outs of working as a federal judge while also helping you develop a healthy respect for centralized authority?

Well, however well you may have managed on your own, now you can feel like a kid again, one lucky enough to grow up in a world that provides for you in the way every kid dreams:

Retired U.S. justice O'Connor unveils video game

Up next from the same company, C. Everett Koop walks us all through a day in a life of Surgeon-Generaling (with a hidden minigame showing us how he makes that delicious fried chicken!); one of America's top archeology professors spends 25 playable hours in a lecture hall convincing you how much his life and career is exactly like an Indiana Jones movie; a comptroller walks us through what exactly comptrolling is all about (now with 40% more paperwork!); and your grandpa inhabits a fully-realized virtual world encompassing an entire suburban den, where he reclines a full 55 degrees before enumerating the many ways in which the world today is much, much worse than when he was growing up.

Classic quotes, Vol. 3

Check out the Dad Blog Carnival at Discovering Dad, where yours truly is featured for my Joy of caprice post of a few weeks ago.

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Here are more things heard around our house recently:

D- (to our landlord): Bye! ...love you!

Me (to M-): Show me the money! (She was calling out "mon-nee, mon-nee" yet again, and I wanted to make sure she hadn't found a penny to swallow.)

D- (playing Connect 4): I want to make my own four-in-a-row here, so don't go in this row, okay?

Me: Please don't blow your nose on my clothes.

J-: Hish the push up!!! (during MarioKart-- meaning unclear... possibly "Push the up button")

Me: Keep your feet off the tablecloth, please.

D-: What is Daddy doing with my purse? (I was putting away an old camera bag full of Hot Wheels...)

Me (at a farm this weekend): M-, get your face away from the cow's butt, please.

Classic quotes, Vol. 2

As my way of taking a little break this weekend, today's post is just a short list of recent quotes from around our house, without any effort on my part to provide cohesiveness, theme, or even an introduction.

Other than that one, I guess.

D-: When will I have freckles? (totally out of nowhere)

J-: (to D-) This is like medicine to protect your skin from sunburn (drips a little on his hand). DON'T lick your hand!!

D-: (wearing a shirt with a breast pocket, before leaving for the park) If I find some rocks today, I can put them in this pocket... Daddy! If I find any potcorns or anything in the grass, I can put them in this pocket!

Me: (to J-, on phone) I can't talk to you when I'm driving in traffic! (I was playing MarioKart and didn't realize till I hung up how ridiculous it sounded.)

D-: She's just a little baby-o, but she takes a big bite! (Never were truer words spoken.)

J-: You do not hug people with the intent to hurt them!

D-: I am very disappointed in you, miss.

Developments at our house, Vol. 7

Here are yet more developments at our house in recent days:

1. M- discovered that sweaty little baby feet can do double-duty as handy tools for recovering food dropped on the floor. As a bonus, you save time and money by never having to refill your salt shaker!

2. I'm thinking I'll have to update my (joking, of course) lists of reasons why D- may or may not be homosexual, given how consistently he has been picking either Princess Peach or Baby Princess Peach the handful of times I've let him play MarioKart Wii.

3. M- tried to inspire a new Conversation with M- by, once every day for a week, climbing up on my lap and then shouting "Ear!" before trying to stick something in my ear, such as a car, a toy phone antenna, and (on several occasions) the aglet from a bear's shoelace. At least she gave me some warning so I could dodge them, which is a lesson she apparently learned from when she ambushed me and my eye later on.

4. J- and I have decided what to spend our stimulus payment on-- gas for the car and food for our children! I can't wait till the installation guys deliver that stuff and plug it in! Woo!!

5. M- found that rather than silence the cries for breakfast (which take the place of greetings) that threaten to wake D- early every morning, Daddy sticking a goldfish cracker in her mouth before quickly carrying her out of the room merely allows her to reach a new tonal range on "hunnnnnngreeeeeeee!"

6. Continuing #5, I've learned that I need to stuff at least three Goldfish crackers in M-'s mouth when I get her in the morning, to make her believe she will be fed right away just like she is every single day. Even if she doesn't believe it, I suppose, she may at least find it more difficult to speak in this state.

That, or I may just end up with a couple of damp Goldfish stuck to my face.

7. I have decided that the world can ignore its meteorologists when trying to decide what the weather will be like on a given day, and instead rely solely on whether I am wearing pants vs. shorts and/or have a jacket or umbrella with me to tell them what the weather will not be like. It's been a logic-defying couple of weeks for this effect.

8. D- spelled the word "Bee" all by himself, which brings his total spelling count to about 10-- I told him how proud I am of him, but I kept to myself that the logical next step for the near future is for him to become Professor of English Language History at Oxford. He'll discover that by himself When He's Five (the glorified time in which almost all things will happen).

9. I've been absolutely overwhelmed by your response to my nomination for Best Daddy Blog-- you guys are awesome! I owe you all big time. Just let me know when you want to collect. One caveat: I don't do windows.

10. I'm exceedingly proud of myself for defying my OCD demons and leaving this list at 9 items instead of rounding it out to ten... dammit!

Household occurrences likely to revisit me in nightmares

Here are several events at our house, most from this morning alone, that I believe I'll be seeing replayed in some form in the coming nights whenever I manage some sleep:

1. M- firmly poking the bottom of an open box of cereal on the table and me lunging forward to catch it just before it turned upside down. I haven't always been so lucky. (In my nightmares, I'm sure the box will always be just out of my reach.)

2. D- standing on the rug between the dining room and kitchen saying, "I'm having an accident!"

3. M- streaking through the dining room with a Spider-Man fork stolen from the dishwasher.

4. M- climbing all over me like a boa constrictor, onto and off of the chair, moaning, "No, no, no, noooooo!" over and over again for no apparent reason other than sniffles and crankiness (it was before 8).

5. D- holding a ball and taking aim at my happy place while I demonstrate how to stand upon the parallel bars at the park. (Luckily it was only a Nerf ball so it didn't hurt, but still I saw the look in his eye-- it was a vicious one expectant of painful hilarity.)

6. M- taunting D- by walking across the family room with his Corduroy bear and, instead of giving it back as originally ordered, slapping him twice across the face with it (like Monty Python's Fish Slapping Dance) and running back away.

7. Driving off a giant mushroom and falling into a bottomless pit, like I did a couple times last night in MarioKart Wii. (In my nightmares, I'm sure the magic man on the cloud will never come to save me.)

8. M- splashing her hands in the toilet saying, "Pee-pee, pee-PEEEE!" (we've gotten thisclose to it several times now), before bidding it bye-bye while waving as she has been doing for the past few weeks.

9. Closing a fresh, clean diaper, standing up and turning around, and then detecting a dreadful hint of baby byproducts. Yes, M- tends to be picky where she defecates, but then so do some adults.

10. A massacre by a rampaging spoon-spork hybrid. Okay, I only read about it, but I have a very impressionable brain, and things like that tend to stick. At least it's better than a velociraptor attack.

Things that should revisit me in my dreams:

1. M- comforting a crying D- by saying, "eye-ing", offering a kiss and hug, and then sitting down to let him read her the book (Good Night, Maine) they had been fighting over earlier.

Betcha thought I wasn't posting today

Well, I considered taking today off from posting, for the first time since February, but I don't think my obsessive-compulsive disorder will yet allow me. Rest assured, though, as promised on May Day, I'll be taking a couple days off per week soon enough.

The reason I thought to take today off was not because I walked 7 miles yesterday; nor because D- woke me up at 6:45 this morning, wide awake and begging for food (after not getting to bed until 9 o'clock last night-- he normally sleeps at least 12 hours); nor because I have a million chores to do; nor because it is beautiful outside again today; nor because D- is standing next to me shirtless, slapping his belly and asking when we can go to the Exploritorium; nor because M- is a little clingy and has the sniffles. No, the reason is because my lovely wife also has the sniffles, which, when combined with some particularly fervent insanity at work recently, meant that when she woke up this morning, she decided today was not a day to persevere.

So I'm posting this little notice while she naps on the couch, but once I click Publish Post, I shall be gone for the day to have lunch as a family, walk to the park, visit the Exploritorium (score one for D-), play some MarioKart Wii (just got it=very exciting), make some dinner together, and maybe watch a movie.

And with any luck, several hilarious things will happen en route to bed to provide me with something to write about the rest of this week. Fare thee well!

Oh my god, Dad, what-everrr

Is it just me, or does this provide a blurry little peek into the next decade?

D- slumped over on the couch, lost in a videogame, and M- posing while casually chatting on a cell phone... (shudder)

That's it, we're officially Luddites from now on!

...Except I still get to use my Wii... and my DVR.
And some other stuff.

Okay, just the kids will be Luddites.

Gimme 10 Mommy kisses and 50 CCs of fairy dust, stat!

I've always known that kids have an imaginary world all their own, ever since I said goodbye to mine around 3 or so and began observing my peers much like scientific subjects, but I had no idea how far it really extended until now.

The other day, while desperately trying to finish doing our taxes once and for all (which is as difficult as you might imagine to do during the afternoon), my attention was called away to M- as she tried to insert a sticker into the Wii, possibly in an attempt to fish out the Cheerio she thought was still in there from a few days earlier. (I know, I know-- it's obvious now we're going to have to give up on the honeymoon and move the Wii somewhere out of her reach.)

Half a second after turning my attention back to the taxes, I heard M- say, "Uh-oh!" in a whimpering voice, holding her hand out with her fingers pointed awkwardly. Not as in bent or broken, mind you, just in a deliberately exaggerated position, trying to show me the back of her hand without turning her hand over.

I looked at her and asked what the problem was, and she held her hand out and said, "Uh-ohhh!" more insistently, starting to cry a bit more. It was clear she just kind of scraped or bashed her hand imperceptibly on something. But since she looked so cute and so dependent on me for rescue (this must be what mothers inherently recognize and respond to, I guess), I picked her up, kissed her hand randomly (not having any point of reference on where this injury was supposed to be), and then said, "All better!"

She stopped crying and laughed a little, reaffirming my dismissive theory, but she wasn't truly all better until D- got down from the couch (a.k.a. Toyland) and asked to see her hand for himself. She held her hand out in much the same position once again, and D- loudly drew in a deep, dramatic breath (I can't think of a way to spell it out, but we've all heard it). He then said, in a genuinely shocked and concerned voice, "Oh. My. Gosh!!!" as if she had fingers dangling off, flicking blood in every direction. M- looked very satisfied with this, though she retained the look of concern appropriate for someone who might presently die of gangrene.

I double-checked her hand as D- turned it over a couple times with a shocked look on his face, just in case I was insane, but it was 100% pure baby hand, with no sign of anything but cuteness. I felt like I was missing some kind of special gift to be able to see this horrible injury, like with those magic death horses in Harry Potter 5 (as my sister reads this I know she is stating plainly whatever they are called).

As you might imagine, all this lavish attention and validation of her concerns worked wonders, and I set M- back down for much more sympathetic hugs and kisses than I could ever manage with my bitter-old-grownup, reality-based worldview. Those two were made for each other.

Oh, that's an old bowling injury...

J- discovered, as did I many months ago, that with the advent of Wii Sports, it's possible to strain much more than just your thumb while playing videogames. Two hours of Wii Bowling may get you (J-) a lot closer to Professional status (a.k.a. Dan League), but it can also get you a sore shoulder and hamstring.

As a seasoned veteran, I know enough to recognize Wii Shoulder on the horizon and to switch to lefty in response, so I was in the clear the next day. There's nothing like watching someone lay on the couch after a long day of work only to hear her complaining about being sore from all the videogames she played on the weekend.

The sad thing is, you may have noticed we're on a bit of a Wii kick of late, and odds are good we'll both be right back at it today. She should probably let herself heal up before facing me again, but then she's just as competitive as me. Maybe I'll do some Wii boxing during naptime today, to keep it fair. With our luck, we'll both be stiff as zombies tomorrow.

Developments at our house, Vol. 4

These are some developments at our house in recent days:

1. J- discovered a forgotten Easter egg full of jelly beans in her coat pocket more than a week after the event, much to her giddy pleasure.

2. I determined the reason no one makes wine from oranges: because fermented orange juice is disgusting. Just check my fridge.

And my sink. And my shirt.

3. D- has amped up his habit of calling out made-up words and then asking me what they mean. I cannot explain this habit, and I can barely stand it, given his straight-faced insistence on getting an explanation. He's definitely my kid.

4. I found out how creepy it can be when your 1-year-old wakes up quietly and remembers she has a singing pig ("Five Little Piggies") in the corner of her crib. The disembodied adult voice inexplicably wafting in from the baby's room at nap time is extremely disconcerting.

5. I learned that when you tickle a baby while she's drinking, she will spit milk all over, just like a real person. I couldn't resist! It was worth it.

6. I'm wondering if I'm manly enough all on my own to pull off wearing a Utilikilt. The answer, of course, is no. The next question is, do I care? They're just so convenient.

7. M- found out that as delicious as oyster crackers may be, and as fun as it is to share with everyone, Daddy does not find them yummy when they are shoved up his nostril while he is closing his eyes for just 5 seconds at 7 o'clock in the morning.

8. Expanding on this knowledge gained yesterday, this morning M- tried to stick a Cheerio into the Wii disc slot instead ('Cheerio' being the singular form of 'Cheerios', rather than a British greeting, which would be far less damaging to the hardware) . As a show of good faith, she then spent about 2 minutes afterwards cementing the new lesson by pointing at the slot and repeating, "No. No. No."

On further reflection, I can only hope this doesn't mean she had already shoved one in there undetected. I'll have to plug it in and eject the game to clear out any detritus.

9. I have found, after more occasions than even I would ordinarily have guessed, that nobody (so far) appreciates being compared to Jabba the Hutt in any way, even when it has nothing to do with his weight problem, and no matter how apt the comparison may be.

To each his own, I suppose.

Note: Here are the other volumes.

Wii will crush you

You know what's great?

Spending an evening repeatedly playing all of the wide-ranging games on Wii Play, as well as a (baseball) hitting contest and a Power Throws (bowling training) match in Wii Sports, with your impressively competitive wife, and completely dominating her across the board like the house against a compulsive gambler on a down day.

You know what's even better?

Knowing she's going to read this and immediately demand a rematch. Moohoohoohahahaaaaa!

Only now will I have a worthy competitor again.

P.S. She may make me cry a little bit after her hurricane of game-related pain has passed.

10 unanswerable questions

Here are 10 questions whose answers will likely elude us all in this lifetime:

1. Why is it when a toddler spasms awkwardly in the presence of music, it's considered cute, but when I do it, I'm told I shouldn't ever dance again?

2. Why are the little rafters over our porch considered the coolest place in town for birds to hang out (based on the number of white spots, to put it delicately, that accrue right outside our door each day), when there are millions of alternatives just within a block or so? I can't help but feel personally targeted.

3. Why does my daughter wake up before 8:00 in the morning just to whine and fall apart before nap time about an hour later? I know I'd whine a lot less right back at her if I could get that extra hour of sleep.

4. Why did my landlord build an office in the basement (which does flood a bit, occasionally) and then later decide to rent it out as an apartment to a lady who has something weird about her that I can't put my finger on? It's like having a troll secretly living under the building, a troll who doesn't have a mailbox or any other standard amenities.

5. Why does my daughter insist on doing everything by herself, her own way, except simple little things that she's actually capable of doing herself? And why does she always want us to do and undo each of those things over and over and over again for 15 minutes straight?

6. Why is it I spend my whole day exhausted and praying for bed, but when bed time comes, I'm wide awake and only thinking of all the things I now have the freedom to do? For example, last night J- went to bed at 8:30 (extra tired and having to get up at 5am as usual), while I stayed up till 11 watching the Daily Show/Colbert Report and Conan (both in double-speed on the DVR), and then playing Tanks and Shooting Gallery on Wii Play.

7. Why does my son feel compelled to ask me questions to which he knows the answer and then get indignant when I give him joke answers instead?

8. Why is it that when kids' tummies stick out a little, it's cute, but when mine sticks out a little, I need to lay off the pizza?

9. Why is a clean, fresh diaper the only diaper into which it's acceptable to vacate one's bowels? And furthermore, once one has done that, why does one insist on acting oblivious to this fact while hanging around me like iron filings on an electromagnet?

10. Why did I feel an inexorable pull to round this list out to ten items? I know there are many, many more questions I could add, but I also knew how hard it would be to think of enough of them in time to publish this and get off the computer before noon. The answer has something to do with obsessions and compulsions, but as to why they are my slave masters, the world may never know.

Eyes on the prize

I have reason to believe that my daughter, M-, may be desperately trying to eat her way to a forward-facing carseat.

She is an extremely willful child, but I'm happy to say she seems to be learning that tiny balled fists being what they may, she can't scream her way to getting what she wants. So now she eats.

The backstory: In the chaos and confusion of trying to install two carseats in my parents' car on our way to the airport a few weeks before M-'s first birthday, I accidentally installed her carseat facing forwards instead of backwards, as recommended before age 1 and/or 20 pounds. This didn't strike me until we started driving, but given that we didn't want to risk missing our plane and that she looked pretty safe in the seat (not like a 16-inch softball on a sack of sugar with a Jell-o neck, like during the first few months), I let her be.

I cannot do justice to the looks of wonder and unexplained giggles that frequently radiated from that seat during the magical 20-minute ride, so I won't even try.

Since we got back from our trip, she has resisted being set into her usual backward-facing seat by any means available to her, including crying and stiffening her body while arching her back. Whenever she gets a glimpse (usually upside down) of the front seat, she shouts with glee, attempting to address anyone she sees up there.

After several trips starting like this when we got back, she began eating voraciously, essentially not ceasing all day to cram anything she could find into her cry-hole. This is because shortly after we got back, she turned one, but since she was sick for over a week around that time, she is still shy of the required 20 pounds. (We plan to make her wait till she's safely over that level, but don't tell her that.)

She has been plowing through her remaining baby formula, downing jars of food, shoveling in baby cereal, and even licking her hand and dunking it into piles of grownup cereal, for more efficient stuffing of said cry-hole. It's all I can do to get in a couple hours of videogames a day.

I've just got to get her feeding herself more reliably and less messily, so I can set up the baby gate in the kitchen and leave her there with the pantry door open for a little while each day, so D- and I can read and relax..... and play more Super Paper Mario.