Tough Parenting

As a parent, I’m constantly asking myself if I’m doing the right things, if I’m making the right decisions for my children, if I’m helping them to eventually do those right things and make those right decisions for themselves. That’s the thin line, isn’t it, doing just enough to guide them in the right ways … Continue reading Tough Parenting

Chatting With Lexi: On Chickens

funny kfc cartoonMy wife and I switch off on bath nights, but tonight was my second in a row (which I was glad to do), and needless to say last night was no picnic. So, I had no real preconceptions about what tonight would hold, except to say that I figured it couldn’t be any worse than the previous night. I was both right and wrong.

I let the girls have their toys for the first time during my bath nights in quite a while and they were appreciative. However, their play time created a little lake on the floor, which didn’t please me, especially since some of the water made its way onto my pants. Yeah, not pleased. But the conversation, it was interesting as usual.

Lexi: Why is a chicken up first in the morning?

Me: That’s a rooster.

Lexi: But isn’t a rooster a symbol for a chicken?

Me: I heard no cymbals.

Lexi: No! Not cymbals. Symbols!

Me: Yeah, they make good noise, but I don’t see how you would strap them on chickens.

Lexi: No! No! Symbols! Symbols!

Me: I know, like chickens.

Lexi: Like roosters, right? Continue reading “Chatting With Lexi: On Chickens”

Chatting With Lexi: On Being a Grown Up

quotes-about-friends-growing-upSometimes I swear I’m talking to a 20-year old when I have conversations with my daughter (who will turn eight in less than two weeks). She honestly says some things that are beyond her years. And then she’ll let out a whoop and swear the aliens are coming in the near future. I try my best to reconcile the fact that this is the same person. Regardless, today we had one of those really good talks, this time about growing up…

Lexi: When will I be a grown up?

Me: When you don’t have to ask me that question anymore.

Lexi: Huh?

Me: Never mind.

Lexi: No, tell me!

Me: What I’m trying to say is that you’ll know it. No need to try and speed it up.

Lexi: But I want to be grown up now!

Me: Don’t rush it. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

Lexi: When I’m an adult I can have my own daughters and give them money.

Me: Are you asking me for money?

Lexi: [laughing] Well, there is this one doll I want…

Me: You don’t even play with dolls.

Lexi: I would play with THIS doll. Continue reading “Chatting With Lexi: On Being a Grown Up”

Chatting With Lexi: On Love

thMy daughter, Lexi, is the epitome of the inquisitive child. From the moment she learned how to speak (her first word was “book”) she has been asking questions seemingly nonstop, and her questions make me think. Sometimes I’m able to answer them easily, (“Daddy, what’s a touchdown?”), and other times I’m stumped, (“Daddy, who makes the eyes for stuffed animals?”), but I’m never bored with her. Believe me. Some times it drives me crazy, I’ll admit, because for every answer there’s another question, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s what makes her special, and what makes her my daughter.

This week we had a conversation about love:

Lexi: Daddy, what’s love?

Me: Well, love is when you care about somebody a whole lot.

Lexi: But I love the cats.

Me: Um, animals count too.

Lexi: But animals aren’t people.

Me: It’s okay. If you care about anything a whole lot you can love it, or them.

Lexi: I thought love had to be something that can be returned to you.

Me: What do you mean?

Lexi: Like, I love you, so you love me too.

Me: You know I don’t love you because you love me, right?

Lexi: So, if I didn’t love you, you would still love me? Continue reading “Chatting With Lexi: On Love”

Tracing Scars

It is late evening and we sit together on the couch — she fresh from the bath and in her footie pajamas, me in my voluminous robe. She climbs into my lap and I notice the heavy lids that presage a sleep so deep no one will be able to awaken her for hours, but … Continue reading Tracing Scars