THE PEANUT GALLERY: Par for the Course

Playing miniature golf with Peanut is finally fun. She's able to play on her own. She's not a sore loser. And she genuinely enjoys it. But she does have trouble counting strokes. 

Let the video replay provide the evidence. Count the strokes, then see how many Peanut says she did it in:

She clearly completed that hole in four strokes, with an impressive shot to finish it if I do say so myself. There are two other videos just like this one. And I only started recording her antics after she had done this on several previous holes. I'm not sure if summer has sapped her counting skills, or if she's a cunning cheater disguised as a diplomatic, for-love-of-the game little girl. Either way, My Director and I are now vigilant, watching her every move on the golf course. 

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Reaching New Heights

I am a feet-on-the-ground kind of guy. But when faced with a death-defying stunt that would force me to push my limits, overcome my fears, and teach my daughter something all at once, I was all-in. Ok I admit, I was a little in. You see, I am not one to back down from a challenge. So I'd be lying if I said this story doesn't start with some good-old fashioned hubris and machismo.

My Director, Peanut, and I spent  a long weekend in Lake George, NY with two other families over Columbus Day. One of the days we spent at Fright Fest at an amusement park called The Great Escape. Fright Fest is appropriate because after a few rides with the kids I found myself face to face with this:

Zoiks

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A Disturbance in the Force

"You see, there are two sides to every Schwartz." -from Spaceballs

The tide has turned. Peanut, forever and stubbornly a momma's girl, has switched allegiances. Could it be? Yes, my daughter has turned to the dark side. She's all about daddy now. (Wait a minute. Who says my side is the dark side anyway?)

Making funny faces
is one of our things

Through an unforseen series of fortunate events for me, I have knocked My Director off the top of the parenting pedestal. Somehow, Peanut now likes me better than she likes mommy. And I will be the first to admit that I have not earned my place through merit. No, I haven't earned it at all. But I have to tell you, it feels good. Strange, but good.

Here's how I did it: dirty politics. A smear campaign, of course. I've masterfully, not-so-subliminally turned Peanut against My Director. She gets a kick out of calling her mom "bossy," for example. Whenever she tells one of us to do something, Peanut and I will look at each other, flash a mischievous grin, roll our eyes and sing, "Mommy's being bossy again." Peanut might even add a, "Mommy, you're Miss Bossypants," for an extra laugh. She'll then look at me for approval, and I'll give it to her with a grin and a nod of the head.

The whole race to number one that I've been running since Peanut popped out has been a no-contest despite my best efforts. But true to her form, My Director could care less about the favoritism. She is not remotely amused by my tactics, however. On the other hand, I am loving it. And what do I do when she calls me out on my negative message? Call her more names, of course. "Mommy, stop being so crazy."

"Yeah, mommy," Peanut will echo. "You're being crazy."

This may make me a horrible parent and husband but I'd be lying if I said it's not awesome to be number one. It took more than five years, but Peanut finally realized how much fun I am. How cool I am. She finally sees the value of a good sense of humor. That's all it boils down to really. I make Peanut laugh. I make her laugh hard and I make her laugh often. I sometimes do it at the expense of others. Most notably her mom, who gladly serves as a constant straight man to my lunatic vaudeville act. I'm a funny guy and Peanut is a very good audience. Eats it up, in fact.

When she was a toddler,  I would tease Peanut like I do now. She, in turn, would freak out. It often led to a meltdown. Or if she was upset and I'd try to make her laugh, it would make her more upset. I was at a loss. These were not my shining moments as a dad. (As a result, there weren't many blog posts during that period.) I didn't understand my daughter and she didn't understand me. "She doesn't want to laugh," My Director would say when my efforts to cheer her up would fail. "She just wants love." My Director was good at that. And with her guidance, I became good at that too. Now Peanut knows when I'm teasing her. "Are you joking daddy?" She'll ask. "Or are you for real life?" (Yes. She says, "for real life.")

Peanut is no longer a baby and is an actual person who recognizes humor, sarcasm, and the skill of of delivering those things with perfect timing. And therefore, I am number one. She knows comedy and daddy is the king of comedy. You name it I use it and she gobbles it up like pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving. Physical humor, props, jokes, song parodies. When she spontaneously busts out with one of my versions of a song, I beam with pride. In turn, I repay her with a dance party to her favorite song:


My daughter and I finally get each other and it's the best thing I've ever gotten from her.

There was a day when I wondered when my time as the number one parent would come. I never thought it would, as I wrote about here. 

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Stepping Up is Hard to Do

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.” -Dr. Seuss, Oh the Places You'll Go!

Now that Peanut is kicking the comfort of daycare off her shoes and heading into Kindergarten in the fall; now that she's participated in the emotional, adorable "stepping up" ceremony that had my face soaked with snot and tears, causing me to lose all of my street cred as a stoic, stone-faced sarcastic dad; now that all of that is behind us and we are looking forward to the rest of her academic career, I have some words of wisdom to impart on Peanut and her pint-sized classmates.

First: Learn to read. You're not going to get anywhere in life having other people read things to you. It's embarrassing, really. Grab a book, sound out the words, and string a sentence together. Educate yourself. Stop relying on other people - mainly, your parents - to read to you. It's lazy. (Actually, you're so close it's scary.)

While we're on the subject of parental dependency, that brings me to my second point: your mommy and daddy aren't always going to be there to help you. Cut your own meat. Blow your own nose. Wipe your own butt. Have some dignity. When you get older, and you ask someone for a favor that you're perfectly capable of doing yourself, and they respond with, "You want me to wipe your butt for you too?" You'll know what I'm talking about. Cut the cord.

That leads perfectly to number three on my list: entitlement. You are not entitled to a snack, a nap, or dessert. You don't get a toy every time we go shopping somewhere. These things are rewards and they are earned. You work hard, you play hard, you follow the rules, you be kind to others, you reap the benefits. Do those things, and you get a bowl of ice cream. Do those things and I'll get you that Rapunzel pez dispenser you've had your eye on. 

Number four: if you don't do those things, you don't get a reward. And you definitely don't cry to get your way. Do you think that's how people act in the real world? In Kindergarten? This is the big leagues. Shape up. Crying because you want to read a different book than we picked? Or because you wanted to be the one who opened the door when we got home? Or because we didn't let you play a ninth round of hide-and-seek before bed? That's immature and unacceptable. Suck it up. Choke back those tears. As The Rolling Stones say, you can't always get what you want. And as Frank Sinatra says, that's life. Sometimes it's not fair. You cooperate and coexist. Deal with it and move on.

Finally: grow up. Everything is not a game. Or a joke. On second thought...who am I kidding? I still make a game or a joke out of almost everything. It's why you're so funny. (That and your mom serves a great 'straight man.') But if you do everything else on my list, you can get away with the occasional - or not-so-occasional - nonsense. People will take you seriously when it matters if you lead by example. Show that you're smart, capable, independent, hard-working, fair, dependable, and realistic. You'll have yourself allies. More important, you'll have yourself friends. Friends you can joke with. Friends you can be silly with. Friends for life.

You stood up there on stage at your Pre-K Stepping Up ceremony. You walked up to the microphone with a big smile. You grabbed it, leaned in, and said confidently and excitedly that your favorite thing about Pre-K was "being with your friends." You can tell a lot about a person by the quality of their friends. Keep surrounding yourself with good people. They will help you. They will love you. They won't judge you. They'll make you laugh in the good times. They'll make you laugh until you cry in the bad times. No person is poor who has friends.

That makes you one of the richest kids I know. Keep doing what you're doing, Peanut. I'll always be here to guide you along.

Kindergarten here we come. But first, one last summer as my baby.

Here is the video of Peanut saying what her favorite thing about Pre-K is. (If you listen closely you can hear a proud dad's reaction):


Two days before her Stepping Up ceremony, I wrote this for my "little girl."

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The Song in My Head

"It's the way I'm feeling, I just can't deny." -Rihanna, We Found Love

Behold, the amazing and yet somewhat disturbing chain reaction that lands a song in your head. And, subsequently, in your child's head. Not only is this song in Peanut's head, she now claims that it's her favorite song. And it's all my fault.

Here's how it happened:

1. One day on my way to pick up Peanut from daycare, I didn't change the car radio from My Director's Top 40 station to my classic rock station. (A station that has been instrumental in Peanut's musical education. More on that below.)

2. A song comes on that just so happens to remind me of the book I couldn't put down. The Hunger Games. If you've been living under a rock, the two main characters fall in love during a televised fight to the death between themselves and 22 others. Or did they? You never know if they're in love, or playing the "game." (Ya gotta read the book. Then ya gotta read the next two.)

3. Since I instantly connect this song that I have never previously heard (because I listen to classic rock) to the popular book I am reading, I start to sing the chorus repeatedly in the car.

4. I continue to sing the chorus at home while cooking, then during dinner, playtime, and bedtime.

5. A couple of days later, I catch Peanut doing this:


6. A week later, we're all in the swagger wagon and My Director points out that she and I listen to different music with Peanut while we're driving. So I ask Peanut, "Which music do you like better? Mommy's or Daddy's?"

7. She answers, "We Found Love in a Hopeless Place." (I cringe a little.)

8. We get home and Peanut asks us to buy that song on iTunes.

9. We buy it and this happens the first time we play it:


10. Now Rihanna has become part of the soundtrack of our lives. We all bust out to this song constantly. And it's all because classic rock dad just so happened to be listening to Top 40 mom's station at the right (or wrong) place at the right (or wrong) time.

And we can't stop. But at least it's not as bad as this:

Or is it?

Luckily, Peanut DOES enjoy and recognize a lot of the classic rock I expose her to. I wrote about one special instance here.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: What is Love?

What is love? It's a simple enough question. Can you answer it? Think about it. It's tough to put into words, isn't it?

Often children give us the best answers to these questions, because their answers are so pure and honest.  So I asked Peanut the same question, out of the blue. No prompting or practicing before the camera was rolling. Here's what she said:
 

My Director and I are writing a speech about love, to be given at her brother's wedding this spring. I'm looking for quotes from different sources, well-known, religious, and otherwise. We'll be speaking for probably no longer than five minutes. Leave it to my daughter to sum it up it perfectly in 45 seconds.

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Howling at the Luna

And now for something completely different and ridiculous...

Here's what a young(ish) couple whose plans fell through at the last minute do for entertainment on New Year's Eve while their four year-old sleeps upstairs. (It's not as kinky as you might think.)

After the ball dropped we quickly discovered that Luna would freak out every time we said, "Happy New Year." So we waited until she calmed down, and fired her up again for the camera. Enjoy:



Yes, I sound very happy and lovey. I had consumed six glasses of wine at that point. But I've seen this video every day of the year - without alcohol - and it still makes me laugh out loud. Hope it made you laugh too.

If you love you some Luna ridiculousness, you'll enjoy this post too.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: The Turkey Song

"Celebrate real well. for life is short but sweet for certain." -Dave Matthews Band

DKL has so much to be thankful for. My amazing, loyal, understanding, honest, beautiful wife. My joyful, exuberant, healthy, imaginative, clever daughter. A dog that does't judge, just loves and listens unconditionally. A warm, comfortable home. Employment, in a time where a lot of people are looking for it. Health. Happiness. Family. Friends. Neighbors. Community. You.

And this:



From our family to yours: Happy Thanksgiving.

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