Halloween 2014 - Deadend Cemetery

The big boys made Timmy do it. Right after taunting him for his lame "bed-sheet ghost" costume, they told him (lied to him) that they were giving away really good treats at Deadend Cemetery. "Go there alone for a special treat...", they said. So he did.





He almost walked right into the barbed wire fence that emerged out of the unexplainable fog as he inched his way toward the Cemetery's front gate. It was dark and he couldn't see much.  

"Trick...or...treat...?" whispered the small boy into the chill.


And suddenly the Cemetery came to life... 








 
...an evil-looking pumpkin-headed figure rose out of the leafy ground, menacing smile and glowing red eyes fixed on Timmy...





...a rustling sound on the other side of the fence drew his eyes to the nearest grave, where a rotting figure was clawing its way through the maple carpet...

 

...movement to his left, and a single hand punched its way up out of the ground...










...swooping phantoms dove from the sky, howling with rage...

...a coiled cobra hissed its warning...

...a giant rat, with teeth bared, prepared to pounce...











...a tiny person...a baby...no, a were-baby, looked up from where it had been gnawing on something and let out a tiny ferocious growl...










...hinges creaked, and a single skeleton pushed open an uprooted casket...
















...and when Timmy, tiny, solitary Timmy, turned to run - a giant spider lunged toward him, riveting him in place, frozen with terror!

Out of the fog, a man (?) emerged, giant eyes peeking out from under his cap, a lantern in his hand.


"WHO'S THERE?" he demanded.





Timmy, stuttered out a second "Trick...or...treat...?"

And this time the man looked his way and held up the lantern...

"HOLY SHIT! IT'S A G-G-G-G-HOST!!!!" he screamed, before dropping his lantern and fleeing back into the murky depths of Deadend Cemetery.

Timmy stood there in stunned disbelief for several minutes. The cemetery went silent, and finally the small boy turned for home.

On his way, he saw the big boys again. He lifted his lame little bed-sheet ghost costume, mooned them, and said "there's your special treat, stupid jerks" (using a regular-sized font instead of the tiny font that he used to use, back when he was scared of things).

Tales from the Kindergarten Water Cooler

Now that we've (once again) got a daughter who's just starting out in school, we get a second chance to hear all of the great stories and adventures from Senior Kindergarten. None of this is made up, except the names and unless my 5-year-old correspondent (who I will call 'D' - for daughter) made it up.

The boy who can pick up the whole school

"There's a boy at school who can pick up the whole school", reported D the other day. Not sure what she meant, I probed for more details. D continued, "He told us he can pick up the whole school. Into the air. By picking it up." Then she added, "He's 4", because that's an important detail.

I can just imagine this boy, standing around with the 5ers, and they're all chatting about their various exploits: "I have a wiggly tooth." "I stuck my finger in my bum" (more on that one later). "I have a cat". When this poor 4-year-old, in a rush to keep up, blurts out "I can pick up the whole school." Heads slowly rotate towards him as his more seasoned classmates mull over the news. "Impressive, Dude," one of them likely says.

So I asked D if she believed him. She thought for a moment, then said "no, because it's attached to all of the other buildings."

Didn't think of that, did you little man? No way you can pick up a whole strip plaza.

The friend who stuck a finger where it shouldn't be stuck

D asked her mom (my wife, of course), "Does my bum hole go all the way into my body?" Her mom did what she always does when confronted with one of these tricky questions, she blew it off, then sent an e-mail to everyone in the family telling them all about this cute thing D had asked (I prefer blogging).

Later, when I heard about the question (not having been included in the e-mail), I chided my wife for not asking where the question was coming from. After all, she might have been worrying about something, or imagining something gross about how her body works.

Being the responsible father that I am, I asked. (Aside: I was also the responsible parent who took it upon himself to have 'the talk' with our eldest when she was old enough. And I had to make a lot of it up because my parents never had 'the talk' with me.)

D got a cute little smirk on her face (where else would it be?) and revealed that a friend had bragged about sticking a finger there. She also hinted that she was thinking about trying it too.

To answer her question, we went upstairs to consult a picture book she has about how the human body works. Alas, no good bum pictures.

We then turned to Google and searched for "pictures to show your child how a bum works" (or something like that). We got sidetracked when we saw a link about how to teach your child how to wipe his or her bum. Big mistake. Back to the search. This time we tried "pictures for children of bum anatomy" (trying to avoid the wrong kinds of bum pictures, of course). We found some good pictures and learned that your bum hole doesn't go all the way into your body.

We ultimately agreed that it's probably not a good idea to put anything up there. And that we'd wash our hands more rigorously and more frequently at school.

Princesses are real and they live in Florida
Schoolyard chatter has it that princesses are real and they live in Florida. This has been confirmed by several of the kindergarteners first-hand. They also vacation in California sometimes, which is where D saw some of them (we have pictures to prove it).

Apparently, one of the more street-smart children voiced a dissenting opinion ("they're people in costumes", or some such nonsense), but that kid has no credibility.

(As an aside, I'll tell you that being a smart-ass Dad, it's tough when your 5-year-old looks you in the eye and says "Princesses are real and they live in Florida" not to say "Yes, and some live in Thornhill too." But I didn't. I would never say such a thing.)
 

Oops, we missed "show-and-share"

D told me that we forgot to send her to school with something for "show-and-share" (what used to be called "show-and-tell").

"It was about Fall".

I told her that it was a shame that we didn't send anything in because that's a really good topic. I didn't tell her that it's not our fault when she forgets to bring something in for show-and-share, and that she's got to take responsibility for things like that. We like to prevent our kids from feeling responsible for things, after all.

Instead, I made a wee joke: "Because you didn't have something to show, did you fall down a lot instead?"

Again, the little smirk: "Yes, but that's not the same kind of fall." (I like the fact that first she said "Yes".)

Then I asked what other kids had shown-and-shared.

"There were lots of leaves".

I felt less bad.

Tales of Inspiration from the Weekend

A look back at a weekend of great growth for David:

1. If I had any prior doubt about how truly blessed I am, yesterday's crisis leaves me doubtless: My wife and I had our scheduled hot air balloon ride cancelled because the weather was too good (does that mean it was "clement"?)
2. The light over our staircase has been burnt out for a very long time. I am haunted by dreams where I fumble about in the dark trying to turn on lights throughout our house and they're all burnt out. These dreams started when that staircase light went dark. So, why didn't I just change it in all the time that's passed? Because it's positioned directly over an opening that stretches all the way to the basement, and it's got a heavy glass fixture. I am simply unequipped (literally and emotionally) to reach out over the chasm of death, remove the heavy glass fixture, carefully unscrew a dead light bulb, somehow screw in a new bulb (while dangling precariously two stories above the basement ceramics holding a heavy glass fixture and a spent bulb), replace the fixture, and make it safely back to land. And, by the way, with Angie there to help me, I would have had to wait in that precarious position while she dusted the inside of the fixture and all around the frame since one can never miss the opportunity to dust an open fixture. Well. Yesterday, inspired by my impending hot air balloon ride, I decided it was time to change the bulb. I brought the step ladder to the precipice, reached out to start unscrewing the fixture, and the thought occurred to me that maybe I could just reach over the fixture and replace the bulb without removing it. I could. I did. It was over in 30 seconds flat. How many Davids does it take to change a light bulb? Just one my friend. Just one.
3. Earlier in the weekend, a tarantulaesque (yes, spell check, that's a word) spider showed up in the garage. It was playing dead on the doorway to the outside, so I let it have its little fun and slipped casually back into the house. The next day, I caught it in its lie. Oh giant spider, did you really expect me to believe that your corpse had moved all by itself from the door to the floor of the garage? With that incontrovertible evidence that the creature still breathed (do giant spiders breathe?), it was now time for decisive action. "Mom!", I shouted, "There's a giant dead spider here in the garage that you should remove post-haste!" (Mom and Dad were over this weekend, don't you know). As Mom bravely reached down to remove the beast (still playing dead) paper towel in hand, she had a fortuitous second thought and decided to confirm that it was in fact dead by gently squishing it beneath her slipper. Just then, the horrendous thing jumped up, spitting and snarling, red eyes flashing with fury, and Mom (dear Mom, the bravest of the brave), finished the monster with an instinctual stomp. Then she gently scooped up its remains and dropped it into the previously empty garbage pail. It landed with an audible thud. A thud, I tell you.
4. I went to Home Depot to buy some stuff. Amongst other items, I wanted to buy a new ladder (this was before the amazing stairway light bulb feat of which I earlier gave account). I was hoping they'd show me two and I'd have a chance to say: "While I like the former, I'll take the ladder." It didn't go down that way. I didn't, in fact, buy a ladder at all. I did, however, successfully buy two big bags of sand. This was special magic sand that is used to seal cracks in walkways. You pour it onto the walkway, sweep it into the cracks, wet it, and it hardens into an impenetrable seal. Right before I bought it, I asked one of those very helpful Home Depot guys to confirm that I had the right product for the job. He snickered and said, "No, that's concrete. But I'd love to come watch you use that to seal your walkway." I used to feel safe in Home Depot. Now its magnificent hallways echo with the sound of scorn.
5. Speaking of scorn, the Blue Jays played their last game of the season this weekend. We all said we'd be happy with meaningful games in September. What we meant is that we'd be happy with meaningful games played well. If the Blue Jays were a giant spider, September was my Mother's slipper. 

So how do all these things connect? What did burnt out light bulbs, cancelled hot air balloon rides, giant spiders, an orange-apron-ed Home Depot bully, and the Blue Jays teach David this weekend? I'll tell you...

Change that bulb (if it's easy)! Stomp that spider (or get someone else to)! Ride that balloon (unless it's cancelled)! Buy that sand (but ask for help first)! And make all of your September games meaningful (even if you aren't up to the task of winning them until all of the pressure's off)! Don't let anything stop you from achieving your goals, unless they're just too big for you. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step; or you can just get into your car and drive it, or let someone else go and tell you how it was.

Have an okay week.

On the Decline of September

For me, September used to be the most poignant, exciting and depressing of all 12 months.

School used to start in September. It still does for many, but for how much longer? Year-round schools, American back-to-school in August, and the inevitable arrival of e-learning will eventually spell the end September's identity as the start of the school year. In my family's life already, this September was just another month. When my youngest daughter enters Grade 1 next year, maybe I'll feel the emotional wallop of September once again, but it feels like years since I have.

Autumn used to start in September. I realize it still does on paper, but with Mother Nature's recent tendency to season surf, it doesn't feel like spring ever really left or summer ever really gained a foothold, and now fall is looking a bit like all three. September's once proud place in the turning of the seasons is irrevocably under assault.

September used to be the single most important month in the television calendar. It's not even a good month any more. Only a few network shows that are mildly interesting will be starting up in September. Fewer than October, fewer than January/February, and probably fewer than June/July. Cable delivers the goods all year round. PVRs and the Internet are non-stop. As a kid, the Toronto Star TV magazine used to do a special Season Preview every September and I'd pour over its contents religiously. Those days are long, long gone.

September used to herald yet another exciting and promising Toronto Maple Leafs season. Fresh off the previous year's thrilling playoff victories, even a Stanley Cup or two, I remember looking forward to September's training camp as a time to take great pride in my home team. Other teams might have their false hopes in September, but only the Leafs were a sure thing. Oh, the joy of another season. How would they do it this year? By how many points would they lead the league? Which Leafs would lead the league in goals? In assists? In overall points? Alas, the Leafs are not as dominant now as they were in the '80s and '90s. Heck, they nearly missed the playoffs last year.


September, I lament your decline. You will be missed.


(Go Leafs Go! Save next year's September!)

Interview with a Couple

On the occasion of their 25th Anniversary, our intrepid reporter sat down with Husband and Wife to discuss how they overcame the odds and made it through 25 years together....

Reporter: 25 years! That's amazing. Tell me, how did you make it so far?

Husband: It's going to sound simplistic, but really it comes down to...
Wife: (Interrupting) Mutual respect.
Husband: I was going to say love.
Wife: (Nodding) Yes, mutual respect.

Reporter: So which is it? Love or respect?

Wife: Which is what?
Husband: He's asking if we made it so far because we love each other or because we respect each other?
Wife: What do you mean 'so far'? Are you planning on going somewhere?
Husband: No dear. I'm just repeating what the reporter was asking us.
Wife: This guy? What does he know about marriage. He looks like he's 24 years old. You should have seen me at 24. I was skinny. I was beautiful.
Husband: I did see you at 24. That's when we got married.
Wife: I was 22 when we got married.
Husband: No sweetie. You were 24. 24 plus 25 equals...
Wife: I know. I used to be a math teacher dear. Started when we got married. I was 22, beautiful and skinny. Before the kids.

Reporter: Tell me about the kids. How have they contributed to the long and happy marriage?

Husband: Each is a gem. As we've raised them our love for each other has deepened. There isn't a moment with them that I would give back.
Wife: You don't remember the diapers, do you? Oh wait. You never touched the diapers.
Husband: Actually I did. You always conveniently forget that.
Wife: Oh. And you killed the spiders too. Right?
Husband: I never said that.
Wife: (Muttering) Such a weenie.
Husband: How did we get onto this? The reporter was asking about the kids and you turned it into an attack on my arachnophobia.
Wife: A rack of what?

Reporter: The kids. Tell me about them.

Wife: They don't clean their rooms.
Husband: They've moved out. What does it matter if they clean their room? How is that our problem anymore?
Wife: Just the thought of the stuff growing under their beds. Dust rabbits. Mold. Spiders.
Husband: Again with the spiders! And it's dust bunnies.
Wife: You've seen them?
Husband: No. I'm saying, it's 'dust bunnies' not 'dust rabbits'.
Wife: What difference does that make? It's six-and-a-half of one, half-dozen of another. You know. A bird on the arm.
Husband: I did diapers.
Wife: And I'm 36, skinny and beautiful.
Husband: You are to me.
Wife: Aha! You're saying I'm old and fat.
Husband: Next question?

Reporter: I thought one of your kids still lives at home. She's 5 isn't she?

Wife: She's a saint. Finally, one of them who listens to me.
Husband: Yes. Our little one is amazing. I've got pictures and stories. One time...
Wife: He doesn't want to hear about the baby. He wants to talk about us.
Husband: She's not a baby.
Wife: They're all babies. They'll understand when they're grown up.
Husband: Two of them are grown up. They're 19 and 21 for God's sake.
Wife: I agree. They're just babies. I should call them. I haven't heard from either one in days.
Husband: You just hung up with them before the interview started.
Wife: Yes, but they were going out and they haven't called yet to let me know they got there okay.
Husband: You smother them.
Wife: The grass is always greener over the bridge.
Husband: On the other side.
Wife: Whatever. That's water under the bush.

Reporter: Ahem. What attribute do you think each one of you has brought into the marriage that has been most critical in making it work so well?

Wife: He's good at doing what I want.
Husband: She's loving, open, hard-working, beautiful, loyal, ...
Wife: (Interrupting) Beautiful? You still think I'm beautiful?
Husband: Of course.
Wife: I wish I could wear his glasses. When we first got married maybe. But look at me now.
Husband: Still beautiful.
Wife: See? Good at doing what I want.

Reporter: You said your wife is loving. Do tell.

Husband: She loves everybody. Everybody loves her. She can walk into a room full of strangers and walk out 20 minutes later with a room full of friends. It's unbelievable.
Wife: It's because I talk to people. I engage with them. I ask them questions.
Reporter: What kinds of questions?
Wife: Like, "That's a great hat."
Husband: That's not a question.
Wife: No, I mean the hat the reporter is wearing. It's great.
Reporter: Thanks. My wife bought it for me last week.
Wife: Oh. I didn't think you were married. You don't wear a ring.
Reporter: That's only because it's getting cleaned.
Wife: Wow. I like people who keep their things clean.
Reporter: That's nice to hear. Thank you.
Wife: You're welcome...Tom, is it?
Reporter: Yes, Tom. Nobody ever uses my first name. You're sweet.
Husband: Excuse me. We were talking?
Reporter: Right, right...

Reporter: And you said that your husband does what you want. That's it? That's the key attribute in a long marriage?

Wife: And he stays out of my way. And he still thinks I'm beautiful...
Husband: That's because you are.
Wife: Stop interrupting me. He's also kind of funny.
Husband: Kind of funny? I'm hilarious.
Wife: And he's confident. I've learned that from him. Or at least I think I have.

Reporter: Last question. If you were giving advice to a newlywed couple about how to ensure they stay married for 25 years, what would that advice be?

Husband: Marry your best friend.
Wife: What kind of stupid advice is that? Marry the love of your life.
Husband: Play together.
Wife: Work together. Clean together. Struggle.
Husband: Have lots of children.
Wife: Why haven't they called?
Husband: Get old and fat together.
Wife: You're saying I'm old and fat.
Husband: And listen to each other.
Wife: Yes. Respect. That's what I'm saying.

Reporter: If you don't mind me saying. You seem to be very different people. You seem to disagree on everything. I can't believe your marriage has worked so well.

Husband: That's because we agree on one thing.
Wife: Yes. One thing.
Reporter: And that is?
Husband and Wife together: Putting the other person first.
Wife: It's like it says in the bible. Do unto others as you would do to yourself.
Husband: That sounds dirty.
Wife: It's from the bible for God's sake. You make everything dirty. Like the girls' rooms.
Husband: And the dust rabbits under their bed?
Wife: You think they have some? Ew. I can't believe I raised them.
Husband: We raised them.
Wife: I sure know I didn't. With all that goobledyguck under their bed.
Husband: Gobbledygook. And that means gibberish, not dirt.
Wife: Whatever. You say tomato and I say potato...
Husband: First base.
Wife: You're so dirty.

How to Negotiate Like a 5-Year Old

(#17 in the Series: Living Life Like a 5-Year Old)

Nobody negotiates like 5-year old children. Tap into their secrets, and you too can dominate at home, at work, and in a wide variety of public places. It's simple really. Just remember the word

N-E-G-O-T-I-A-T-E

• Noise
• Emotion
• Guilt
• Obstinance
• Tears
• Irrationality
• And
• Threatened
• Estrangement

Before You Begin

Before entering into the negotiation size up your opponent and get a sense of the surroundings. 

• Your opponent is probably much older than you. He or she may be in a good mood or a bad mood, tired or full of vigor, playful or deadly serious. Ignore all this. If the opponent is your parent, you're already halfway to a victory. If the opponent is a teacher, you know better than to try.

• The surroundings will be your battleground and it's important to understand how to take advantage of the terrain. Public places lend themselves to quick and decisive victory. Negotiations in private places occupied by a guest and/or grandparent are successful almost before they start. One-on-one showdowns at home can be tricky, but are almost always winnable.

Now, you're ready to N-E-G-O-T-I-A-T-E.

Noise

Make lots of it. Incoherent, nonsensical, ear-shattering, nerve-grating noises work the best.  Your goal is to subdue your opponent through sheer volume. Keep it up, wear them down - it's psychological warfare in its most primal form and it works to undermine your opponent's size advantage. Noise alone will secure you a quick victory in public and/or when surrounded by onlookers.

Emotion
Let the emotions fly, the faster the better. Anger, sadness, frustration, fear, hurt, ... Don't hold back. Quick emotional flip-flops will unbalance your opponent who is trying as hard as possible to stay calm. If you can't undermine their calmness through your emotions, play on theirs: "I don't like you very much!"; "You are so mean"; "You promised!"; and so on.

Guilt
Your opponent may try to make you feel guilty for behaving as you are or for not backing down. Ignore these feeble tactics. If your opponent is much older than you they have a lifetime of pent-up guilt you can manipulate to your advantage: "Why don't you ever give me anything"; "You're the worst parent ever"; "You're making me sad"; "Grandma lets me stay up as late as I want". (That last one is really a probe - see if your opponent has deep-seated guilt issues associated with his or her relationship with his or her parents. If you see a twitch or a wince, go for the jugular).

Obstinance
The Free Dictionary defines obstinance as: "Resolute adherence to your own ideas or desires." Stubbornness. Mulishness. Pigheadedness. Dig in your heels as deep as you can and don't move at all. Some negotiators believe you should find middle ground and work towards that. Nope. That's for grownups. You can get everything you want on your terms if you don't budge.

Tears
Your one differentiated advantage over your opponent is tears. You can make them happen at will. Your opponent cannot. Tears generate guilt, they demonstrate emotion, they come with noise. Your opponent is not going to cry, so you must! When you must stop the tears in order to hear whether or not your opponent has capitulated yet, make sure to snivel. Sniveling is like kryptonite to your opponent; it will make your opponent deeply regretful ("What am I doing? Look what I've done to this child. Time for a hug...") BOOM! Victory.

Irrationality
Throughout the showdown, it is extremely important that you maintain total and complete irrationality. Past agreements don't matter. Earlier promises and earlier arrangements are irrelevant. There is no such thing as precedent. Every negotiation exists in a vacuum and nothing else matters except what's going on in the moment. You can be rational later, or not, but now is not the time for that kind of weakness.

And...

Threatened Estrangement
It is not always necessary to get to this stage in the negotiation, but it is very effective if you need to snatch victory from impending defeat. Your opponent can't threaten to run away. Your opponent can't tell you they won't love you anymore. Your opponent is legally bound to protect and nourish you for years to come. You, on the other hand, are not bound by any of these things, so fire away.

(Stay tuned for the next installment in LLLA5YO: #18 How to Shop Like a 5-Year Old )

A Picnic! Oh Joy.

Partook in a picnic yesterday with two daughters and a wife (all mine).

Close your eyes for a minute and think about going on a picnic. Nice, right? Sunny sky, warm breeze, wispy clouds slowly drifting overhead against a deep blue backdrop, plaid blanket spread out on a green manicured lawn, a wicker basket with one side carelessly tossed open to reveal a red and white inner lining, some carefully wrapped food, maybe some champagne and two glasses. A lovely family with smiling faces, wind tousled hair, faces flush with the joy of togetherness and outdoors-iness.

Ah, the family picnic.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH (that's the sound of the needle on a record player being ripped across an LP which had, until that moment, been playing easy listening jazzy picnic music).

Now here's the reality:

• Damp ground with bald spots. No way I'm putting my nice clean blanket on that. Let's sit at a picnic table instead.
• Bird shit on the picnic table. Yum.
• Is that the only drink you brought? Where's the mustard? You forgot the bocconcini that was in the fridge that we wanted to get rid of. And the prosciutto. Did you bring any fruit?
• Don't put your sandwich down on the table Micaela. Not clean. NOT clean.
• Oh look at that cute dog that's visiting our table. Aw, he's got a saliva infused rubber ball in his mouth, and he's gently waving it around near our food. How cute! He wants to play with us.
• Wait, there's another dog... a German shepherd! And this one likes to bark ferociously and strain at his leash to kill us. Aw.
• Now the gale force gentle breeze keeps blowing the plastic wrap away from the table. Don't worry, though, because we don't litter and Daddy will keep getting up and running across the park to catch up with it. Why secure the plastic somehow when Daddy's young and can run forever?
• Oh dear, the bugs have found us now! How could that be? Surely they should know better than to be attracted to the food we've left uncovered on the filthy table because the plastic wrap keeps blowing about. But again, don't worry. Daddy loves bugs. He's walking away from the table with his sandwich because he's trying to draw them away from the rest of us...not because he's fleeing.
• I know! Let's play Frisbee. Sure, the 5-year old has never thrown one before. But let's stand way far apart and pretend she'll be able to throw it to us. Oh, the 21-year old likes to throw the Frisbee too. And vertically! Let's also pretend she'll be able to throw it to us and keep dashing about trying to chase it in the many random directions she flings it. One more thought: Let's get Mom - all wrapped up in the picnic blanket to keep warm - into the game as well. Sure, she can't catch with her hands under the blanket, but what could be more fun than throwing things at her?
• Time to do something else. How about a nice walk in the surrounding Hundred Acre Woods? Bye Mommy. We'll see you when we get back to the car. We're not afraid of a few mosquitoes like you are.
• Isn't this nice. Just Daddy and two of his daughters. Walking in the woods. With swarms and swarms of mosquitoes. And poison ivy. "Leaves of three, let them be!" Whee!
• Time to go now. See if you can keep up with Daddy as he flees to the car waving the Frisbee madly in all directions to keep the swarms at bay. Wow, he can run fast. Why is there blood on the Frisbee?
• All together again. Enjoying our fine picnic dessert. So cool and refreshing. No bugs. No dogs. What could be better than this? Thank you Yogurty's!

Note: I exaggerate. We had a fine picnic. Great idea 21-year old. Lots of fun. We missed you 19-year old. (at least you can throw a Frisbee). It would be remiss of me not to mention the Monastery Bakery that provided our picnic food in all of its deliciousness. If you haven't been to Oakville before, you probably don't know about their potatoes. If you live in Oakville, you certainly do. If there is a better potato on the planet, I have yet to meet it.