Stay-at-home, work-at-home Dad

The Creation of Mr. Pumpkin

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 01:05:00 +0000

The Halloween jack o'lantern is a thrill for every youngster, it seems, and nothing seems more natural for him or her than to give the goblinesque creation the most realistic of appearances, getting every tooth and whisker just so. That is, until they try to carve it themselves.

Just two months shy of eight years old, my son appeared ready to handle at least part of the chore of slicing the orange melon's considerably meaty flesh, and I'm happy to report all went well. We used the score and score again technique, where a light line is notched with the point of the blade along the area to be cut. Then a second stab deepens the line, and a third or fourth goes all the way through the meat.

For the nose and ears, I demonstrated out the cuts don't have to go all the way through, but still provide plenty of pumpkinized realism.

And we even ate some of the noble squash, just to prove we could.

The picture at the right would have shown some of the cubed delights, if I'd taken a second to make sure they had made it into the picture. But here's what we did: all the pieces we took out--the eyes and the mouth--we saved, plus I cut some pieces of the fruit or flesh or meat or whatever you call the part that you eat. I cut them in small cubes, melted some butter in a small frying pan, added a couple tablespoons of brown sugar, and cooked them for about 15 minutes, just till they were soft enough to eat, but not mushy.

Okay, so it wasn't the healthiest of meals, but if the pilgrims had brought butter and brown sugar, I'm sure they would have done the same. Probably.

Soccer world

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 15:55:00 +0000

Fall soccer season has begun and Jordan has a good team again. We've got a great coach, and I'm the assistant coach again, so that's as it is.

Team is second- and third-graders, and the kids are getting a much better idea of how to play. We have referees this time, so coaches are not on the field, but we still get to roam the sidelines and yell instructions.

Soccer is a cool game. It's a world game. Great soccer players can go anywhere. Might not understand what the people are yelling at you, but there you are.

Vacation post 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 23:31:00 +0000

My second annual vacation with Jordan found us plying the Lake Erie coast again, because, hey, if it isn't broken, don't repair it. We did add a couple of things, though, and left out a couple others, just for balance. And variety.

One thing left out was forgetting to pack the Cedar Point season pass. This time, we forgot nothing important (three unimportant things I don't recall right now) and were on our way shortly after church. Didn't take long for Jordan to fall asleep, but that's cool. He'd watched a movie on the way, so a little nap afterwards while the wheels go round couldn't hurt a thing.

We had two places reserved, one a motel with a fridge, coffee maker, microwave, pool, playground, and excellent breakfast. We began our stay there for four days and ended the week with two days of camping out at East Harbor State Park on Lake Erie. I'll spend a few weeks between now and next year thinking about starting out at the campground and winding up up at the motel. Could go either way. The camping really helped us to wind down from the fun of...

Cedar Point amusement park. This year's visit to the park came with the revelation that Jordan had grown just enough to be eligible for the rides that required him to be 52 inches tall. And we took advantage, believe me. The best new ride was Maverick, a twisting, turning metal coaster that had a line an hour long every time we rode, but it was worth it. A close second was Top Thrill Dragster, which also featured a hefty line, but we got there early and only had 30-minute waits.

The weather on Lake Erie (where Cedar Point lies) cooperated with our plans to spend as much time at Cedar Point as possible, but we also visited a couple of other play areas where Jordan got to drive a go-kart, play some putt-putt golf, and his favorite, ride bumper boats. If you've never experienced bumper boats, do yourself a favor and do it.

What can I say about Sandusky, Ohio, the lake, the park that you haven't already heard? Probably not much, so I'll throw some out here and you can make up your own story: Dippin' Dots, Vintage Cars, Dodgems, Ferris Wheel, sea gulls, forgetting where you parked your car, finding your car, the evening fireworks extravaganza. Can you think of more?

One thing different this year was the proliferation of cell phones. I admit to carrying mine around everywhere and taking over 100 pictures during the week with it. My digital SLR stayed in the motel's safe and deep in the darkness of my car during most of the trip. I took four pictures with it. But they were darn good ones.

I even took a picture of some people on the Ferris wheel and tried to bluetooth it to them. We couldn't figure that out. I think my phone might be to blame, although I can bluetooth easily to my old phone and to my computer. Getting to another iPhone and another computer isn't as easy as it should be; indeed, it hasn't been possible yet, so I'm missing some important piece of information. But I was able to message the picture to the folks from the Ferris wheel, which was pretty neat in itself.

We spent half a day on Kelleys Island. (For you punctuation nerds like me, they don't use an apostrophe in the island name.) Jordan likes to go to Kelleys because he gets a chance to drive the golf carts we rent to go around on.

Kelleys has a great beach, where we spent a couple of hours, and an excellent state park, with a couple of rentable yurts that are right on the beach almost. Very Hawaiian feeling. Might consider staying there a night sometime.

One thing we quickly found about the island entertainment: it's largely adult-centered. Very few restaurants that didn't also offer liquor, which is part of the mystique, perhaps, of a maritime-themed business district.

But there's good news, if you're like me and my son and not so big on the drinking and smoking:

Erie Island Coffee Co. and Papa T's, two places on Division Street where you can find good coffee and good food, along with great service. Of course, I zeroed in on the coffee shop because I like coffee and needed to augment my blood-caffeine level. Erie Island Coffee, according to Jessica, the beautiful and helpful attendant at the shop, is based in Cleveland. I think they are giving Starbucks a run for the money when it comes to coffee drinks and non-coffee drinks for the little ones who don't need the added stimulation.

Jessica directed us to Papa T's just up the street for good food and ice cream sans the alcoholic haze. The picture of Jordan eating an ice cream was taken on the porch of Papa T's. The only trouble we had at that place was choosing one of the over 30 flavors of ice cream for the cone. Anyone know what Superman flavor is? Or want to go half on a peach ice cream cake?

Soon enough it was time to go camping, Jordan's first experience with it. He especially liked the idea of the campfire and kept trying to get me to fetch more wood and make it bigger and bigger. So for our final night, we built a monster for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. He ate two hotdogs and half a dozen marshmallows, but the fire burned for over five hours. It had been a long time since I spent the evening watching a fire burn. Felt like a pioneer, albeit one who buys his wood in bundles at the local general store.

Our first evening at the camp, we spent a couple hours at the beach, which was nice, but they're doing some work on the bathrooms. It's not Waikiki or even Myrtle Beach, so it gets a little crowded, especially during July tourist season, and the waves, well, the waves are bigger at the Kings Island wave pool, but that's not the point, is it? The point is, you can go really far out into the water, throw Frisbee, football, whatever, and it's calming and relaxing.

Back to the beach for some sand/mud castle building and to the tent for a night's rest on the ground.

And then it rained.

The gentle thunderstorm wouldn't have been so bad, but it turned out the tent had never been seam-sealed. The manufacturer had kindly included a bottle of sealer in the tent peg pouch. I plan to ask them if anyone ever requested a tent that leaked and was that the reason they didn't just make the seams more water-resistant. Definitely a case of "buyer, pay attention to what's in the bag next time."

But only a pint or so of rain got into the tent and nothing was harmed, except a pillow. I gave Jordan mine and I used a couple of beach towels for the rest of the time there.

All in all, it was exciting. And something else struck me: the honesty of campers. I mean, it doesn't take a lot to unzip a tent and make all kinds of trouble, but you hardly ever hear of it happening. The same for beach people. Beach blankets, cell phones, car keys, all sorts of things get left behind while their owners enjoy the water that feels too cold at first.

We packed up on a Saturday morning. By Friday, the campgrounds, which had been practically empty the night before, had become filled with campers. It got noisy, and not the good kind of noisy that we experienced the first morning after the thunderstorm. That morning, birds of many kinds awakened us. From inside the tent, they sounded like all sorts of creatures: ducks, dogs, hyenas--who knows what?

Jordan had never heard so many so close, and he was amazed and enthralled. I recalled my youth as a child of the country, where I could recognize a lot of bird calls. Was quite an old memory those repetitious bird calls pulled out of me. Those were the days--having the time to memorize bird calls. Wow.

We left around 9 and headed for Cedar Point for one last hurrah on the Dragster before heading south to Uncle Les and Aunt Grace's where Jordan made them uncover the pool, despite it being only 76 degrees. He seemed not to mind. Likes pools, I guess.

And that's it, folks. Vacation 2009. I put a hundred pics in a flickr account that you can see, if you're feeling especially voyeuristic. It's here, and you're more than welcome to take a look.

July the What?!

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Fri, 31 Jul 2009 14:54:00 +0000

Before the month is over and I'm out the door again, wanted to quickly post a pic and a promise of more posting to come to let the family member and friend who read this blog (and whoever that other person is) that I am still waiting for the mythical time when I can spend a few unhurried minutes putting together my thoughts on vacation, softball, and many other things a father and son take the time to do when the days are longer and the nights are filled with blood-sucking flying beasts and the beat-down of thunderstorms on our tent.

Oh, it's an exciting story, one well worth pulling up a seat and a bowl of popcorn to hear/read. You'll see (I hope).

A moving story

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 01:49:00 +0000

We've finally learned as a society that movement is essential to health. Not a big revelation, until you think about how hard we try as a society to keep kids motionless and silent.

As soon as we can, we shuffle them into classrooms of other kids and tell them to sit still and do nothing till told differently. Then, when they're older, we wonder why some of them get planted in front of the TV or behind a desk and do little else but add to their posteriors.

I'm glad summer vacation is here for Jordan. We spend a few hours a day reading, writing, learning, and part of it involves watching science programs on the computer screen. My desk, pictured, includes a NordicTrack ski machine that I use a few minutes most days. I have it set up for Jordan to use when he's here. Can't keep him off it, so I figured might as well size it for him.

While a program about the Kileaua volcano was on, I left Jordan in the chair and went to the kitchen to fix a cup of coffee. When I came back, Jordan was on the exercise machine while watching the program.

Did he deduce that his future life would be better if he trained himself now to keep active? Did he decide he needed to increase his heart rate so his brain would be fed more oxygen and he could learn more thoroughly? Or does he enjoy moving around on the NordicTrack and feel like he could do that AND watch the volcano show?

Movement is natural for children. Becoming a stationary blob takes a lot of effort from well-meaning parents, teachers, and employers. As a society we need to change that paradigm, drastically and soon.

Mad thermals

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Mon, 25 May 2009 13:33:00 +0000

I strive to be a writer in my playtime, and to help, I'm in a critique group of various individuals who usually do not agree on anything much in the realm of writing. It's a good cross-section. Somebody's bound to like what you do. And somebody isn't.

A recent story I wrote for kids dealt with flying and the science of flying, specifically thermals. Couple of people couldn't believe that kids seven years old would have any idea what a thermal is. To them I say: watch some Sesame Street once in a while. But I say it with a smile firmly planted because everything we say to each other is given and taken with a grain of salt, which, I suppose, is meant to season the comment and make it more tasty.

From the photo above, taken at the Wright Patt Air Force Museum in Dayton, you can see the evidence that at least in the case of my son, flying is a way of life. He's known about thermals for at least two years, and while he might not be able to give you the scientific reason for their existence, he definitely knows they exist, that they are more prevalent on south-facing hillsides, and that they help you fly.

Couple of years ago, I observed him and a friend flying, and the other guy said, "Wow, Jordan, you got mad skills."

I could only agree.

What's good for the goslings...

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Sat, 16 May 2009 21:27:00 +0000

Another soccer season is over and a new softball season begun. Our amazing kids have learned the game of soccer better and better, they've become good friends, and I've grown as a coach and a human being.

It's tough sometimes being positive when kids are doing the opposite of what you ask them, when they don't listen to you at all, when they don't listen to anything at all except the voice in their head that says to do anything but play soccer. It's tough for me, anyway. I'm not naturally a forgiving person. It's against my nature to put up with being ignored and to keep trying to make children listen.

But that's what I worked on doing, because you know why? That's what we tell the kids to do: Don't stop attacking the ball. Keep after it. Don't stop.

It wasn't till the last game that the message sunk into my head deeply enough to make an impression that lasts. But it did, and now I'm ready to coach softball. I think.

Tony the Tiger would be proud

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Tue, 05 May 2009 17:20:00 +0000

At best I'm an optimistic pessimist, or maybe a pessimistic optimist, either way, it equals out. So I don't know how my son has developed into such a positive force. Maybe it's because his mom and I have always strived to give his thoughts and feelings their due importance.

Don't misunderstand. We don't negotiate every little thing. At least I don't. If it's green bean casserole for dinner, that's what it is. No begging for something else. For one thing, if it's green bean casserole, I probably don't have anything else. Besides, I add a little Tabasco and a touch of garlic and make that casserole rock, dude.

One day I made a new recipe of chicken and cabbage burritos, and I could tell by his face that the combination did not work for him. So I let him eat the chicken by itself, along with a side salad. (I think the disgusting cabbage made the salad taste better to him.)

So I keep it real for him, just like I'd treat (as I've said before) any obnoxious stranger. He deserves at least that level of respect. He is, after all, a human.

I took him to school this morning and pulled to the curb where we line up and let kids out. The principal came over and held the door for him. "Hi, Jordan," he said. "How are you today?"

Jordan steps out of the car into the 53-degree weather, big (mostly empty) backpack, shorts and aloha shirt, uncombed hair, and said as he closed the door, "GREAT!"

"What a good answer," principal Schwieterman said.

And I had to agree, though I'm not sure how it happened.

Pancake Serenade

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 14:26:00 +0000

I am a lover of the pancake arts. They inspire me to many things. We have no IHOPs in the Dayton area, and this is a travesty of pancake justice. Thankfully, we have many memories of IHOPs in Colorado. One of the earliest memories my seven-year-old son has is of him and me going to IHOP for specialty pancakes.

"That was in Colorado, right?" he asked me. "I remember we used to go there a lot, didn't we?"

Jordan was aged three through five during this time, so it's cool that the memory stuck with him. His brain is developing so fast now, many of those toddler memories are being wiped out.

We also stopped by Sonic once or twice a week in those days. For those who don't know, that's a fast-food joint where you pull up to signs outside to order your meal, and it's brought to your car, often by roller-skating waiters or waittresses. Jordan would unbuckle from the seat, take off his shoes, and go crawling through the Vibe station wagon we had at the time. It had a sun roof, too, so of course he'd be sticking his head through that, weather permitting.

The last time I asked him about that, he didn't really remember it. Stupid me, I didn't take any pictures of it. Stupid! Always take pictures, people. It's the 21st century.

Being without a member of the IHOP franchise nearby, I've had to perfect my own pancake art, and can report success. Whenever my son stays with me, we have pancakes the next morning.

One of the best memories I have of my own dad is the making of pancakes on Sunday mornings. Not every Sunday, but there was a period of time when it was semi-regular. I'm very glad to pass down that positive memory to my son.

Passing, shooting, and reading

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 00:59:00 +0000

Basketball coaching continues to be rewarding. The kids are doing much better at passing the ball. Some still have trouble guarding without going all helicopter on the opponent, and there is the problem of agressiveness causing more agressiveness till finally one or the other is called for fouling. Invariably, he doesn't understand it because the other kid was going it too. The no-touch policy works for a while, but soon, it's back to guarding by gymnastics.

Jordan's on the medium height segment of the team, though one of the younger. Next year, he'll be on the far end of the age range. He'll also be a bit more mature. He's already high up on the maturity scale, able to give up the bad percentage shot in favor of a pass inside. That's a hard lesson for this age to learn.

Tonight, he's playing computer games. I'm amazed by the online games and how they've grown over the past couple of years. They look like expensive games now. And Jordan plays them way better since he's learned to read.

Knowing that he has a good time reading is another high point for a writer daddy. His writing skills haven't quite caught up yet, but just to watch him sit and read a story book, that is about as good as it gets these days.

A better day coaching

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 13:16:00 +0000

After our 7- and 8-year-old basketball kids were pelted in their first game by a group of kids who looked closer to 9 and who played closer to 14, I was a little fearful that my first foray into coaching had been a mistake. More so for the kids than for myself.

We'd missed our weekly practice because of snow and frigid weather on the 14th, so we went in without proper knowledge. This led me to a vigorous practice on the 21st where I explained proper guarding techniques. Most of them understood in practice, but when they got in the game, it was more of the same bunching around whoever had the ball. But that's normal.

We'll work on defense again this week, and add a few offensive maneuvers to get them away from dribbling into the mass of bodies and losing the ball, either by having it stolen or because they throw up a lob pass in the middle of the pack.

All in all, I think we scored more baskets this week. I was busy trying to keep our benched players on the bench and watching the clock so I could do substitutions. I felt semi-victorious in the knowledge that most of our players on the court had a better idea of what they were doing.

So far, so good

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 00:05:00 +0000

Today was the first day back to school for kids in my son's elementary school. We're all proud to note that he made it through the day on the green light, and he was able to wake up on time without a lot of trouble. I was worried that his late nights staying up till 11 and 12 might give him a problem when school started back, but the night before the night before he zonkered out by 10:30, so that helped him get back on schedule.

SAHWAHD has seen schedules change drastically since the boy has been attending school. There's much more time to be at-home working, and less time to be at-home daddying. Just like when he started half-day prekindergarten, and when he potty-trained himself, Daddy feels a little less needed, a little less important in the life of this fellow who has changed his life. It felt good teaching him the year of kindergarten in half a year, and it felt super-good when he passed his Iowa tests with supersonic flying colors. I'm a little sad that he's kind of floating along scholastically now, but he's having fun learning how to work the system, and in the end, that's as important as learning how it's supposed to work.

I still maintain enough contact with him to let him know that there is a level of expectation above and beyond what the state has in mind. He knows that he can float or he can rise above; it's up to him. Right now, he chooses the path of least resistance to the computer games--unless somebody's there to chase him around. And after 10 laps around the house upstairs and down, I'm usually ready to sit down for some games myself. Hoping to build up to 20 laps by year's end.

So far, so good. :-)

Whose teeth are these?

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 14:22:00 +0000

Watching a new human become aware of self is fascinating for a parent. It's been a couple of years since Jordan first started asking for his hair to be styled a certain way. For a year or so, that was spikes. The last few months, he's been combing it straight forward, like in the picture here. Hair is controllable, but another part of his face isn't: his teeth.

He started losing them kind of young, plus he got his six-year molars at four, so his mouth is full of teeth. He had a pretty nice smile before the front ones started coming out, and he's still got a wonderful smile, especially when you combine the full effect of his cheeks and eyes. A recent question he asked me told me how much he's thinking about his looks.

"Why are my two front teeth so big?"

It's rough growing up, having your parts fall out, regrow. Your clothes get too small, too short, too tight. You bump your head on things you used to be able to walk under.

And your teeth don't always fit in your mouth.

Think!

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 16:46:00 +0000

When my son tells me he can't remember what he had for lunch or what he did in school or how something happened, I tell him to stop and think.

His answer at first is always a millisecond denial that he recalls anything. Why? He wants to do something else. He doesn't want to answer test questions from Daddy.

What color was that car? How many people just walked by? Write a sentence about what you did today.

These are all things that would be natural to retain if not for the mega-distractions of the world around, the games abounding, the attitude that everybody gets a pat on the back for doing the best they can do so who cares if they can't add eight and five without thinking about it for 30 seconds.

Well, all bad things must come to an end.

And after he thinks for a couple of seconds, he remembers something.

It's called thinking.

It's roundball season

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 21:31:00 +0000

I stepped up and have been chosen to set out into the unknown of basketball coaching for 7- and 8-year-olds this season. Teaching the fine art of dribbling, passing, and shooting the "rock" is a challenge I do not take lightly.

Okay, maybe just a little lightly. They're only kids. I'm not looking forward to the coaches' training this Saturday morning. I kind of had other things on the backburners, but that's why God made Saturday afternoons, for the backburners.

On two, break. Go to the post, number 2, the post. Didn't we go over "the post"? Okay, time out. Hey you. What's the post?

Nothing but green lights

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 13:25:00 +0000

The past month has seen Jordan really take hold of the whole "green" concept. It's now the rule rather than the exception, and I couldn't be more proud. Well, maybe if he discovered faster than light travel or how to run the car on grass clippings and dog poop, but for now, I can't say enough about his social growth.

He and his friends down the street are more and more in charge of their play times. It's great to have him be able to socialize with kids so close by, and as much fun for me to watch him play as it is for him to play. I'm amazed constantly by the ability of children to become thinkers and doers, little adults, but kinder and more honest.

How great it would be if we could keep that honesty as we grow.

Lessons learned

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 15:03:00 +0000

The lessons of life continue to fill my little boy's days and evenings.

Green days have been more prevalent the last couple of weeks. If he makes it through today, he will have done the unthinkable and stayed green an entire week. That means a trip to the job jar, or something. He needs a job. He is, after all, almost seven.

We're learning the ways of live-and-let-live, respect for others, even if they're disrespective, and it all leads to leadership and self-respect.

Got a Christian group on Wednesday evenings for him at the school. Still doing soccer. Basketball is coming up. Supposed to get him in indoor soccer through the Y. Yikes, sign-up for that was last week.

My pride and respect for the growing boy is boundless. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to have the answers for him. He'll be teaching me soon, I know.

The pencil situation

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Sun, 21 Sep 2008 12:27:00 +0000

After a short week, my big first-grader managed to string two green days together before he raised his hand with a pencil in it and the pencil went flying and he laughed, then his table mates laughed, and the teacher moved his pin to yellow.

But hey, I think two green days is cause for celebration.

A green day

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 11:38:00 +0000

Jordan's school uses a traffic light chart for kids' behavior. They have pins or clips with their names on them and everybody starts the day on the green light.

The teacher issues warnings and it's here that I'm a little unclear as to how many warnings and for what each kid gets before the clip is moved. Jordan always gets the requisite number, whatever it is, and his clip is moved.

The first few days, he stayed on green, but now every day is at least a yellow, a few are red, but at least he hasn't landed on black yet.

I was bemoaning his lack of self-control yesterday, knowing that if it's hereditary, that it came from me, and found myself praying that Jordan could have a green day.

Then I thought of the group Green Day and wondered if that's where they got their name. I can't picture them going through many days in grade school without having their clip moved. Nothing personal, mind you, just saying.

Another soccer season off with a bang

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 22:47:00 +0000

I was unable to attend my son's first soccer game with his new team, but was happy to get a call from his mommy saying that he'd scored the first point of the game, taking the ball the length of the field. And it's a big field for little kids!

He scored the second point on a penalty kick after somebody tripped him. Whammed it in, according to reports.

The other team scored their only point in the third quarter, when Jordan had to set out to let others play.

Then he scored another point in the last quarter, as well as an assist on the fourth point the team scored.

I can't wait to watch them play tomorrow and the rest of the season.

The class clown

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Sat, 06 Sep 2008 12:26:00 +0000

Jordan can't help doing the wrong things sometimes.

Yesterday, he got put on the red light of his class's traffic light. No recess Monday. It'll be at least the second time he's had his recess taken away.

I blame his super-outgoing personality, along with being a child. It's not really that big a deal, but I think it's time that he took control of some of his fidgeting when he's away. Since he can do it when he's with me, I know he can do it when he's not.

Shock and dismay accompanied the discovery that his teacher had phoned Mom and Dad to discuss his unwillingness to do things like not rock his chair back and not put his eraser and pencil in his mouth. Several times he's lost his balance in the chair, causing it to fall. He thinks it's funny. It gets him attention.

I see a future where he's the smart kid in class who's a cut-up, a little disruptive but smart enough not to get caught most of the time. I knew a few of those in high school. They were fun. I might have been one. Might have. Okay, I was. Jordan adds super athlete to the mix. I was also a super athlete, but I was into music and growing my hair long at the time, so I wasn't allowed to represent the school in sports.

So it's punishment and correction time for my little boy. I hate it, but he needs to know that I am concerned. Many times when he's goofing off, he misses something important. And while some of his antics are meant to impress his friends and make friends, he needs to learn better methods of friend-making.

Anyone got any advice on teaching such self-awareness issues?

First week of school

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 12:07:00 +0000

The Bug, as I sometimes call him, made it through his first week of school with flying colors. He's having a grand time, so far, and looking forward to it so much that he'll likely get plenty tired of it soon enough. I hope new activities continue to keep his mind alive and interested.

His teacher seems to be disposed to keeping the children invested in things to do. With a "reading loft," four computers, and a room with so much on the walls you can't see it and so many book shelves full of books an adult can barely turn around, the classroom is a child's paradise of learning.

The school uses technology much more than others I've encountered. Would be nice if the technology worked all the time. (Complain, complain, eh? Sorry about that.) One minor glitch is in the lunch room payments area. Students are given numeric codes to punch in to pay for their meals (if they choose to pay that way), but the school is having a problem getting new student information to be recognized by the meal-paying computers.

Balance that with everything else, and it's not so bad. I've got to pay a visit their anyway to turn in some other paperwork. Parents are allowed to join in the classroom now and then, as well as to visit the lunchroom. I plan to do both as soon as possible.

Jordan also had his first session of soccer last week, with Assistant Coach Daddy. He said I did awesome, so that's a feather in my cap. I got a pretty good workout from it, as well, so that's just an added benefit. I should do it every day.

Summer's end

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 12:41:00 +0000

Today, I waved at my son on the school bus, his first school bus ride. I waited at the bus stop with another dad and his two sons. My son didn't want me to bring my camera and take pictures, because the other dad wasn't doing that. All the kids had new shoes, new backpacks, shiny new faces, and a new future coming at them.

And so I join the unknowable number of parents who have watched their babies take the first steps to becoming their future selves.

We've instilled a summer theme, a vacation, as it were, into our last days of summer before school starts. Trips to Cedar Point and Lake Erie islands, visits to nearby relatives to brag and demonstrate the boy's growth, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

As I look out the window at the sun shining on trees and grass and houses, I remember my own first day of school, photographed by my mom, as proud of me then as I am of my son now. As any parents must be of their children leaving the nest on a new adventure. Just as on his first day of prekindergarten two years ago, I'll hold back the tears and let go the prayers and wait on pins and needles for his report this afternoon.

Bite of shirt?

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 21:24:00 +0000

My son is eating his shirt.

Okay, maybe not actually ingesting it, but he sticks the collar or any part of it into his mouth and chews on it. He does the same for certain pillows.

I remember a time in the distant past where I found the taste of saliva-soaked cotton curiously comforting. I think I was told at least half a million times to quit doing it, but didn't help. I'd still eat my shirts.

And now I'm waging a similar battle with my son, telling him for the 499,999th time about the 500,000th time I caught him with part of his shirt in his mouth.

Hm. He is losing another baby tooth, though. I wonder if the salty sweat in the shirt goo makes the blood in his mouth taste better. Weird.

The real reason

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Farley) — Sun, 03 Aug 2008 18:40:00 +0000

Jordan likes to play his video games, and that's all right, I guess. I would, too, if I were him. But sometimes I like to get his nose out of them. And here's where I forgot to ask a question.

Getting ready for church this morning, I tell Jordan to turn off his game and get his shoes on. He says he wants to take the game with him, but I say, no, turn it off for a while. He disappears for a few seconds, returns, and says Mommmy said he could take the game.

I let it go. Not a battle worth waging. Especially when I tried being heavy-handed in demanding no game. After I had time to think about the situation, I figured out what had gone wrong: I'd demanded he do what I say without explaining the reason. And when he went over my head, I was too upset to think about the real reason I wanted him to turn off the game.

If I'd explained to him in the first place that the reason I wanted the game off was so he and I could talk. I like to hear his feelings and thoughts, and if I'd told him that, you know the game would have been off in a second. Or maybe his "thought" at that moment would have been that he'd rather play the game.