A Father and Child Discuss the News

A Father and Child discussing the news over breakfast...

C: "Daddy, what's crack?"

F: "Crack is a kind of cocaine."

C: "Daddy, what's cocaine?"

F: "Cocaine is an illegal drug that some grownups use because it makes them feel good."

C: "Does illegal mean that it's against the law, and if you use it you will go to jail?"

F: "Well...yes. But only if you get caught and the police decide that it's the right thing to do to send you to jail. Like if you do it a lot, or if you were doing something else bad when you were caught."

C: "Was our Mayor caught using crack?"

F: "Well...sort of. There's a movie that the police found where it looks like he might be using crack. And the Mayor said that the movie does show him using crack. So yes, I guess he was caught."

C: "So he should go to jail, right?"

F: "Well...no. You see, the Mayor says he was very, very drunk when he used the crack. In fact, he was in a drunken stupor."

C: "What's a 'drunk and stupid'?"

F: (Mussing his child's hair and chuckling with paternal affection) "I said 'drunken stupor' not 'drunk and stupid'. A drunken stupor is when a grownup gets very, very drunk and does stupid things."

C: "Like using crack?"

F: "Exactly."

C: "And what is drunk?"

F: "Drunk is when a grownup has too much alcohol and loses control and responsibility."

C: "So it's okay that the Mayor was caught using crack because he was in a drunken stupor?"

F: "Yes."

C: "And that's why he's not going to jail?"

F: "Yes. Well...sort of. He's not going to jail because it was all a mistake."

C: "He was drunk and stupid by mistake and then used crack and even though he was caught, it's okay?"

F: "Well it's not okay, but the Mayor is a very important man who does lots of good things for the city and he didn't really hurt anyone and he says he will never ever do it again so it's kind of okay."

C: "But I thought he said some mean things about people when he was in a drunken stupor using crack. And you told me that sometimes words can hurt people a lot."

F: "That's true."

C: (Long pause) "So the Mayor should go to jail, right?"

F: "No, because the Mayor said that it was a mistake and that he is very, very sorry."

C: "And that makes it okay?"

F: "Yes."

C: "How do we know he's sorry?"

F: "Because the Mayor said he's sorry, and Mayors don't lie."

C: "But I thought that before he said he did use crack, he said that he never used crack. Isn't that a lie? Or did the Mayor say he was sorry for lying too, so it's okay?"

F: "The lying was part of the mistake so I guess he sort of said sorry for that too."

C: "And he wasn't lying when he said sorry."

F: "Right."

C: (Longer pause) "Daddy, have you ever used crack when you were in a drunken stupor and then said mean things about people and then lied about it by mistake?"

F: "No, because I would never do something bad like that."

C: "But the Mayor did, and that's okay."

F: "Yes."

C: "Oh."

A Parable: The People's King

A Kingdom, years ago and far, far away, found itself without a King (for reasons too obscure and unimportant to explain) and after years of bitter debate and innumerable impasses, its Senior Council conceded defeat and unanimously decided that the People would have to choose their next ruler.

Many candidates emerged and made their case to the People, arguing why they would make a good King (or Queen) - but they all sounded too much like past Kings and Council Members, and the People wanted change. The People liked the idea of choosing their own ruler and wanted someone who spoke for them, who wanted what they wanted, who represented the Common Folk and would remain Common even with a Crown perched on his or her head.

Finally a Common Man came forward and said "If someone must wear the Crown, let it be me. I'm as Common as they come, I know what the Common Folk want, and I will change the Kingdom to reflect the spirit of the People."

Finally the People had found their man and with One Voice they proclaimed him King.

True to his word, the new King didn't behave like other Kings and didn't turn his back on the People. In fact, he became even more endearing to the Common Man as he made change after change as he had promised. Some of the Senior Councillors tried to stop him when they felt he was going too far, but others understood in which direction the winds of popular opinion blew, and put their own misgivings aside to support the new King.

The People loved their King. Many Councillors supported him. And the King ruled for many years.

During his reign, the King - being a Common Man - occasionally got caught breaking the rules, behaving immorally, and even treating others unfairly. But such was the love of the People for their King, that each new report only strengthened their affection: "He's one of us - warts and all."

But there came a time when the Senior Councillors had had enough of the un-kingly behaviour, and some of them began to speak out: "He is the face of our Land and he is shaming us." Others joined the wave of criticism - Philosophers, Chroniclers, Historians, and Moralists added their voices - and soon the quiet dissent became a vocal outcry. Evidence of wrong-doings was gathered and presented in Public Forums. (Note: spellcheck doesn't like the word "fora" so I've gone with the wrong word in the spirit of speaking for the common people).

The King shrugged his shoulders and said: "I am who I am. I am imperfect. And that's why I was chosen by the People." And then, just to be sure, he surrounded himself with Local Toughs who pressured the Philosophers, Chroniclers, Historians, Moralists and Dissenting Councillors to stop causing trouble. Those who didn't stop, were vilified, bullied, and ultimately exiled from the land.

Finally, the King was caught doing something that everyone knew could not be tolerated. There was no doubt anymore that the King's reign should end. His loyal Councillors joined the ranks of those calling for his removal. His Toughs fell under heavy scrutiny and disappeared into the shadows. Until finally - with the exception of some members of his family and a few of the People - the King found himself alone.

Confronting the bitter truth, the King spoke to the People, saying "I am sorry that I let you down. I tried to be the King you wanted. I was imperfect, as you always knew. But you deserve a better Ruler."

And with that, he exiled everyone from the Kingdom so they could have a better King elsewhere.

He ruled the more-or-less empty Kingdom for years more, until he tripped over an anvil and broke his collarbone.

The End.

Halloween 2013 - Your Bedroom's a Hellhole!

For Halloween 2013, I was inspired to turn my garage into a warm and comfortable child's bedroom with the unfortunate and uninvited addition of one standard-issue hell mouth.

 

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Imagine it's Halloween and you've gone to sleep after a satisfying night of trick-or-treating. Around midnight, your clock radio suddenly turns on... as does your bedside lamp, now flickering. Is that the sound of something moving behind your walls, straining to get out?

 

Covered in goose bumps, you pull your pillow over your head. But that doesn't stop you from hearing your horrid wallpaper being ripped open (from the inside), skittering insects crossing your floor, and a moan of pure evil.

 

In a moment of foolish bravery, you hazard a peek and see a hell mouth has opened in the corner, oozing hot lava and filling your bedroom with a fiery glow, wispy smoke, and hosts of creepy crawlies. Is that something under your bed? Is that something on your bed? 

 

Up comes the pillow once more. In shock and fear you try to wake yourself up. Is this a dream? It has to be a dream? Wake up! Wake up!

 

 



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Well, that's what I was going for.

The neighbours loved it. We had people driving up and letting their kids out just so they could see our house (and take our candy, of course). The biggest compliment I got was on the hell mouth itself. Nobody - including the sister with whom I grew up - believed that I built it from scratch.

And despite all of my work, the last minute addition of a jumping spider was the biggest hit. As I mentioned on Facebook, it scared a Boxer out of his wits. Another canine visitor - this one more like a small horse than a big dog - arched his back and nearly jumped over the fence to take on the spider. But it was the teenagers who were the most impressed. One 14 year old boy said: "You scared a 14-year old boy. Congratulations". Another teen said "I'm so happy people still do this kind of stuff. Thank you so much" (like he was hearkening back to the good old days - when he was 9 - and life was so much simpler).

(In case you're wondering about the spider...in front of the garage door was a mat for people to stand on as they looked in. The trigger for the spider was under the mat. For some, the sudden jump of the spider was a complete shock. Other, more savvy trick-or-treaters knew there was a trigger under the mat but thought - for sure - that it would make the person in the bed rise up. So they were looking to their right when suddenly a spider lurched at them from their left. Got them too.)


  






Much fun was had by all. Thanks for all of your great suggestions for this year's garage theme...I used none of them, but was inspired by...none of them. Better luck next year. And thanks for all the help from my wife and three daughters. I couldn't have done it without you. (My youngest positioned the cat, my wife otherwise kept her out of my hair, and the older two daughters encouraged me from afar - so yes, I was being sarcastic).

The Ten Reasons it Was Brilliant to Start All Over Again with a Third Child

Since the birth of our 3rd daughter after a 14 year hiatus in daughter-making, the question my wife and I get most frequently is probably "Are you crazy???!!?!?!" (The second most common question is "You're crazy, right?") (And, as an aside, I will add that last week I got the following question from two different people: "You have a 20 year-old? How is that even possible?")

Four-and-a-half years after the fact, I can tell you now that no, we were not crazy. And to prove it, I now offer you the...

IN-RETROSPECT, TEN REASONS IT WAS BRILLIANT TO START ALL OVER AGAIN WITH A THIRD CHILD.

10. It's really nice to meet new people my age at my daughter's school when dropping off or picking up the little ones (I mean the grandparents, of course).

9. It deeply saddens me to see the empty houses of the people my age who no longer have children at home (the houses are empty, of course,  because those people are off in Europe, or on Cruises, or at Mardi Gras, or spending the weekend in New York, or sipping martinis out back in their Jacuzzi, etc. etc.)

8. Having the little one at home is like having my own personal sunbeam that lights up my life every day. Those words are from my own Grade 1 report card, but they still resonate all these years later. Thanks Mrs. McLeod!

7. On Halloween, I'm not the creepy old guy who goes over the top decorating his house every year for some creepy reason; I'm the cool Dad who goes the extra mile to bring joy to his little daughter.

6. It's nice to have someone in my life again who believes I'm all-knowing, all-seeing, tall, strong, and just generally perfect in every way. I'm going to really enjoy the last few months of that.

5. Somehow, in my first pass at parenthood, I missed "I Lost My Bear" by Jules Feiffer. Best. Book. Ever.

4. If I didn't have a young one again, I might never have seen all of the amazing sequels to the Disney Classics. Would my life have been complete without the opportunity to cuddle up with a four-year-old and watch Bambi II, Cinderella III: A Twist in Time, Lady and the Tramp II: Scamp's Adventure, and 101 Dalmatians II: Patch's London Adventure? (By the way, we have not watched any of these and don't plan to. That's why I italicized "the opportunity").

3. Nothing in the world is better than the 15 minutes at bedtime spent reading story books and singing lullabies. Now I don't have to do it alone any more.

2. A walk at dusk can be a) old people exercising in the only way they still can, or b) a Dad and a daughter out on a Hundred Acre Woods adventure. I much prefer the latter.

1. When we have a fourth child, he will have three great big sisters just like his Dad.

October is "My Phone is Just a Phone" Month

Imagine for a moment that you woke up today to discover that all of the smart phones on the planet had suddenly and permanently stopped working. We still had (ordinary, not-smart) phones and computers and televisions and portable music devices and portable gaming devices and calculators and flashlights and wallets and maps and books and newspapers...just no more all-in-one smart phones.

Now ask yourself what would be wrong with that.

(I'll give you a moment for quiet contemplation - "the Girl from Ipanema" playing in the background while you think...)

Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes, each one she passes goes - ah
When she walks, she's like a samba that swings so cool and sways so gentle
That when she passes, each one she passes goes - ooh
(Ooh) But I watch her so sadly, how can I tell her I love her
Yes I would give my heart gladly,
But each day, when she walks to the sea
She looks straight ahead, not at me
Tall, and tan, and young, and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes, I smile - but she doesn't see (doesn't see)
(She just doesn't see, she never sees me...) 

OK. What did you come up with? Me...I'm having trouble seeing how my world would be worse without smart phones. A little less convenient, yes. But worse?

Now, how would my world be better?

• Drivers would once again be focused on driving their cars, and they'd be fully attuned to their surroundings.
• Pedestrians would once again walk down the street with their eyes looking forward.
• Restaurants would once again be the scene of many happy people enjoying each other's company, talking, laughing, and looking at each other.
• People wouldn't be equipped to play photo journalist, expert commentator, or celebrity unless they'd earned the right to do so.

And how would I be better?

• When out for a walk, or at a movie, or relaxing in front of the TV, my phone might not be in my hand quietly whispering "play with me".
• When my young daughter asks me a question, like "why is grass green?" I would be forced to be a Dad and a human being - giving her an answer based on what I know or don't know - rather than being a clerk who is really good at looking things up.
• When a precious moment happens, I might commit it to memory instead of digitizing it and instantly sending it out for public consumption.

On our recent trip to Mexico, we all left our phones at home (metaphorically, not actually). My wife carried a camera. That was it. And I can't remember a moment where I regretted it. Even sitting on a 2.5 hour bus ride to Chichen Itza with "nothing to do", we instead sang songs (quietly), drew pictures, read books and played games like "20 Questions" (well, those of us who didn't sleep for 2.5 hours did those things).

Again, I'm only talking about smart phones. Lose them and the world becomes a better place again. They're not guns (or they're not guns yet). They're just devices that we adopted for convenience and coolness, which are having serious consequences - car accidents, tuned-out kids, ruined lives - because we're not using them responsibly, and can't use them responsibly. Too seductive. Too powerful. Too ubiquitous.

I got my phone as a work device, for phone calls and e-mail when I'm working, but not in the office. I'm going to use it for just that for all of October and see what happens.

Donnie Booth's Tooth

The following is inspired - obviously - by "There Was an Old Lady who Swallowed a Fly" and - less obviously - by a good friend of mine who snapped a toothpick when trying to free some wedged-in dental floss from his teeth.

I dedicate it to everyone who has ever experienced that sinking feeling when you hear your dental floss rip.

Donnie Booth's Tooth

A boy of eleven called Donnie Booth,
Had a kernel of corn lodged in his tooth.

He went to the pantry for floss just then,
To loosen the corn and take it out again.

But the space was tight and the floss was wide, 
And a piece ripped off and stayed inside.

With a toothpick, next, pushed there and here,
He tried to force the floss strand clear.

(The floss that stuck beneath the corn
Causing Donnie grief that early morn.)

But the toothpick snapped and half got lost,
Behind the kernel and the piece of floss.

Out came some tweezers with which Donnie meant,
To grab the wood all splintered and bent.

(From the half a toothpick with which he'd tried
To free the floss from his mouth's inside;

The floss that stuck beneath the corn
Making Donnie's mood somewhat forlorn.)

But the tweezers slipped off Donnie's thumb,
And one tweeze got wedged between tooth and gum.

So next young Don tried pliers to tease,
The tweezers from out his gums with ease.

(They'd gotten there when Donnie meant,
To grab the wood all splintered and bent;

From the half a toothpick with which he'd tried,
To free the floss from his mouth's inside;

The floss that stuck beneath the corn,
Making Donnie wish he'd not been born.)

But just as the pliers got fastened on,
Their handle cracked on poor, young Don.

"I'll saw them off" thought Don with care,
About the broken pliers now hanging there.

(The ones he'd used to try to tease,
The tweezers from out his gums with ease;

That had gotten there when Donnie meant
To grab the wood all splintered and bent;

From the half a toothpick with which he'd tried
To free the floss from his mouth's inside;

The floss that stuck beneath the corn,
Now long forgotten that fateful morn.)

But as Donnie tried to aim the saw,
He trapped its handle against his jaw.

At last Don knew he needed aid,
And called his Dad to free the blade

(The blade of the saw trapped near his face,
When cutting the pliers from their place;

The pliers he'd used to try to tease,
The tweezers from out his gums with ease;

That had gotten there when Donnie meant,
To grab the wood all splintered and bent;

From the half a toothpick with which he'd tried,
To free the floss from his mouth's inside;

The floss that stuck beneath the corn,
Since hours before, that early morn.)

AND his Dad succeeded in freeing the saw!
AND when out it came, so came it all!
The pliers and tweezers and pick and floss,
Without another moment's loss.
AND finally the corn, there from the first,
POPPED OUT on its own with a tiny burst.

So young Don Booth, now free for lunch,
Took another cob and began to munch...

(Knowing his Dad was there, if he needed him,
To pull out a saw should things turn grim;

If the saw got wedged in any way,
When trying to cut some pliers away;

If those pliers snapped when trying to tease,
Some tweezers out from whence they'd squeezed;

If the tweezers were jammed into a space,
When aimed at wood stuck deep in place;

If wood had splintered off a pick,
When digging at floss, shredded thick;

If the floss had ripped,
when sliding free,

A new piece
of corn...

...or 2or 3).

Making Amends

For some of us, it's that time of year where we make a point of reflecting on the good and bad we've done during the year and - where necessary - apologize for the bad. Here I go:

To the British Guy in Mexico

Sorry to the British guy sitting in front of me on our tour bus in Mexico. It might have appeared to you that the 30-minute long, unsuccessfully muted hysterics coming from my middle child and me that started at the same time as the obviously painful collision between your head and the luggage rack (and your subsequent very proper upper-crust British-accented muttering to your wife about the resulting pain) were related. Not so. We were laughing at something else entirely. But I am sorry if you thought otherwise.

To Sports Fans Who Read My Blog

When I wrote optimistic pre-season reports on the Raptors and Jays, I may have inadvertently caused some of you to share in my annual rite of self-delusion. I'm sorry for that. To make amends, I won't give you a heads up re: what could be a championship season for the Leafs. (Nay, likely will be a championship season for the Leafs. In the bag.)

To My Wife

Sorry about the spiders. Sorry that I continue to fail to buy you gifts that you like on the first try. Sorry that I write things that directly or indirectly refer to you in my Facebook and Blog posts and then don't have the courage to tell you to read them. Sorry that I'm not serious about apologizing for any of these things (including this last one).

To My Two Older Daughters

When you were little, cameras weren't as ubiquitous as they are today. There wasn't Facebook. I didn't Blog. So it may seem like I make a much bigger deal out of your little sister's childhood years than I did with yours. I'm sorry I didn't chronicle every detail of your early years. You two were also cute and clever and many of your amazing moments have been lost in the annals of time. If it's any consolation, your little sister didn't get to live through the Spice Girls years.

To My Youngest Daughter

I'm sorry that I make your older sisters so jealous and that they take it out on you. I think I may have fixed it above. If it doesn't help, let me know if they try anything. I've got your back. You know how much daddy loves you.

To Cats

You know who you are. I'm sorry you suck.

To the Readers of this Post

I'm sorry that this post isn't very good and I wasted your time just now. I just wrote it because I wanted an excuse to tell you about the British Guy banging his head. Man that was funny. I haven't laughed like that in months.

The funny thing is that it's usually my lovely wife who loses it when she sees someone hurt himself or herself. She's done it to me - laughing uncontrollably when instead she should be taking steps to save my life. And I've called her on it many times, scolding her self-righteously when she laughs - for example - at her daughters stubbing their toes, flipping over their feet, or whacking their elbows on the furniture.

So when British Guy had his encounter with the luggage rack and I lost it, I felt like Mary Tyler Moore at the Chuckles the Clown funeral.

Anyways, I apologize.