The 10-year-old very much enjoyed an episode of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt in which a character composes a song called Pinot Noir, prompting him to put up a good many post-it notes.
Wearing his mother's coat the kid looks great.
The kids continue to refuse crayons but I have no compunction.
The daughter photographed me in the mists of my distraction.
We all know what's coming with this.
Portland's northeast neighborhood grows impatient with 50 years of Occupation.
Not to be put off by lack of access, I had a forthright conversation about various issues with President Obama's life-size cardboard figure.
An older gentleman informed me that one aspect of successful parenting was modeling behavior. As his children survived into adulthood and apparently live "normal" lives, I felt he was onto something.
The kernel of the idea is the nippers will see us parents doing stuff and want to do it, too. The trick is to get the kids to see the good stuff and not the psycho angst that compels me to stay up all night firing off emails to the Ukraine and screaming at an imaginary Slavic assistant named Pjotr to bring more Slivovitz and pierogi.
We all have our moments.
More to the point, I have playfully spoken into a banana pretending it is a telephone, created a song and dance celebrating southern culture and hot dogs, inverted children when necessary, and dutifully watched The Walking Dead because otherwise I would have no common reference point with my offspring.
When recently in Washington D.C. I wanted to show my family back home that I was involved in "issues" and "stuff" that "people" get involved in. So I had my earnest moment of dialogue with Cardboard Obama. We spoke wistfully about the Affordable Care Act, Congressional obstructionism, and had a good laugh at a certain prime minister's expense -- you know who you are Mr. Soggy Felafel.
I suppose I should feel inadequate that a piece of cardboard spoke more eloquently than myself, but I am blessed with short attention span and am not troubled by such things.
Perhaps because this dated book lacked the pretense and truffle oil of Food Channel recipes the kid wanted to try it out.
The 10-year-old went to a used book sale and purchased the above tome. Apparently the cookbook was published by Campbell as there was no title page or ISBN number, leaving me to approximate the date -- best guess 1958.
The kid was keen to try out a recipe -- "Pizza Doggies" called out to him. Not sure if he knows what a square dance is.
He made a shopping list and we went together to the market to buy supplies. As it was Saturday he asked for a special lunch treat -- sushi rolls -- proving his tastes are not mired in the pedestrian. Extra fun occurred when we found Campbell tomato soup and did not need to risk using an off brand.
That evening he prepared the meal, asking questions and getting annoyed with I offered too much hands-on help.
I am thrilled he is showing interest and initiative in the kitchen.
The pizza doggies tasted good, too -- as someone with a deep appreciation of pizza I find it hard to dislike any food item covered with tomato and garlic sauce with melted cheese on top.
Not to be outdone, the 13-year-old baked delicious chocolate chip cookies. Proud? You bet!
Yesterday I commanded my crew in a portage at the Federation’s Field’s
Trail, we had to carry a kayak full of supplies across the trail, to
simulate what the Lewis and Clark Expedition had to do.
We faced multiple challenges such as Prickly Pear (Blackberry Bush), The
weight of our food, water, and guns (Backpacks), and unforgiving terrain (Such as very steep parts of the trail, both up and down). I commanded my crew to the Pacific Ocean (The field again), and as Captain It’s my duty to yell something inspirational to the troops.So I yelled “OCEAN IN VIEW!” and we all were cheering (Or screaming in agony from the Blackberry Bushes).
When we got to the middle of the field, we put the Kayak back, I gave my crew showers and drinks, Pvt. Feinblatt of the platoon known as West Of The Mississippi crafted
bandages of grass and tissue primarily for the Capt. of the platoon known as River Runners, and Pvt. N. of West Of The Mississippi, who both had many marks on their legs.
The weekend is here! And the 10-year-old is fed up with blogging and bloggers! The written word? Feh!
The kid got up, ate breakfast, dressed and brushed his teeth, wrote a script, shot it, and spent a few hours editing it for the masterpiece below. A lesson in artistic vision and focus.
The kid's videos are popular at school so he definitely knows his audience. I'm always happy to be in the company of certitude and direction.
I suggested to the kid that the word "crime" instead of "misdemeanor" might make his message more readily digestible to the public, but he would have none of it.
The kid's thinking was that his awesomeness would translate to such a vast amount of misdemeanors that society would have no choice but to put him in a supermax prison, even though the nature of his criminal offenses were fairly minor.
Wacky Packs were the pinnacle of cool in 1975 4th-grade Minnesota.
The 10-year-old got the chance to design his own "M.T. Freezer" T-shirt. I will not spill the beans about all the graphic excellence so as to save some content for another post.
Seeing how happy the kid was in his new shirt made me think about one of my favorite shirts from a similar time in life. However, my shirt had the graphic of "Belches Grape Juice," rather than the jelly pictured above. As a 10-year-old belching was the best activity ever, and to wear such on a shirt was, well, to live in a constant state of giddy excitement.
Whatever problem I have with the new generation I need to remember that somehow kids today have better taste in graphics.
