The beach is a nice lawn
An ocean’s beach has the constant ambiance of a seashell’s breath. For my son’s fifth birthday, or rather the weekend after, we’ve been marinating in a hundred and two year old seaside beach house designed by A. E. Doyle.
It’s a rare opportunity to enjoy the Oregon coast as a family with friends in the midst of the optimum season.
The location and birthday make it a once in a lifetime experience.
Continue reading Birthday At The Beach, Spindrift In July
Cherries taste better by the bucket.
A berry tastes better when U-Pick, though I’m not complaining about the sixty five pounds of ripe picked organic cherries for fifty seven dollars that we got on the fourth from Wolfe’s.
I think my son Yuri may be able to eat his weight in berries.
Continue reading My son’s weight in cherries. Summer is berry fun.
Actually, you know, like, um; actually, you know, like. um….
My son, Yuri, is actually a good kid. We survive his shenanigans with little harm to home or body. But with him turning five, there is worry about how fast he is growing, both physically and in expressing independence.
Our children are a product of ourselves interacting with their environment. Whenever they say or do something bad, as a parents we should feel partially responsible.
Certainly my wife blames me for Yuri’s rude habits, as if I’m a big brother rather than a father. Children are sponges. Four days a week at a school/daycare, means he picks up actually quite a lot.
“Geeks smell bad and nerds wear plaid.”
Continue reading Actually Daddy, I’m The Boss. Now Play With Me.
Since I found out I would have a son (Yuri), I’ve been considering what games would best give him an edge. I picked three initially that I enjoy and wish I’d learned as a child. Parenting is, after all, a vicarious life style.
These games topped my list
I find it best to play with friends. Defeating strangers isn’t as savory.
Continue reading Games for my child, arming his mind with a fourth
My son gets exited about hiccups. He’ll make a bee line towards me and yell, “Daddy daddy, tell me a scary story.”
After a moment’s reflection about the odd juxtaposition I’ll jump right in.
Curing Hiccups With Reality
“Son,” I’ll tell him, “let me tell you something really scary.”
Continue reading Tell Me A Scary Story. I have the hiccups
I savor Father’s Day. I admit to appreciating the attention, the clear authority over how my day will be spent. More so than any other day I am allowed to rule.
…Was what I was thinking when I went to sleep last night. However, my son
had other ideas at six am. To him I am only a semi-authority figure. As he would say “You’re not the leader of me!”
Continue reading Father’s Day, I am Optimus Prime