Rebel, Rebel

O: Why is mommy going over there?!?! She is not supposed to go over there.

J: It's ok, O. Your mom is just a little bit of a rebel. 

P: Daddy, is rebel-ing ok?

J: It is, Pen. Sometimes, it is ok to do some rebel-ing. 

I hopped a fence. Well, that is not really fair or accurate. I shimmied through a gate, and, for context, it required virtually no actual shimming. The gate on the hip high enclosure was locked, but locked so loosely most adults could easily pass through the opening. It was left more than ajar. What would that be? Open. 

It was open. It was essentially open, but I wanted to take a picture inside the burnt-out, century-old house, so I shimmied through the gate, much to the horror of my oldest daughter. Jim, who has been at this for over a decade at this point, knew better then to be horrified and just looked on bemusedly. 

I shouted over my shoulder, "Anyone want to come do some rebel-ing with me?"

O and P, in unison, "NO!"

But, I as I turned around, I saw her, just past the gate, venturing barely past the threshold of the old stone structure, my not-so-tiny P. She skittered back quickly, but not before she stopped and touched the cool stone of the decaying structure. 

It is tough. We want our kids to follow the rules and be good citizens, while at the same time, we hope to teach them to trust their judgment, and recognize when a rule is worth breaking, either because the reward out weighs the risk or, more pressing going forward, that the governing body that is creating the rules has overstepped and requires challenge. 

Side note: I hereby, acknowledge all of the very sound research about prepubescent and pubescent humans lacking the neurological ability to adequately asses risk. Please see here.

Regardless, it did my rebel heart good, to see my Tiny P creep past that barrier, challenging herself to take a risk and to venture into the unknown. It is something all civic minded people are going to need to engage in going forward. Sometimes, even the rebels among us might need a little inspiration. 

POTUS v. Preschool

O: I mostly didn't like it.  It was exciting, but loud.

This is not a political post. I promise, not even kind of.  

Los Angeles is a strange and wonderful place.  A few days ago, after sign out at O's school, a bunch of parents were just hanging out in the park, when WWIII began, or at least that was where my hyperactive worst-case-senario brain went.  

Several large grey helicopters flew low over the playground, ruffling the kiddos hair.  They landed in formation just up the hill.  Moments later two identical green helicopters approached from different directions and landed on the field too.  The loose perimeter was maintained by a couple of intimidating dudes in polo shirts and jeans.  Everyone ran up the hill to watch.

  It was very clear that this level of security was way too lax for Marine One to have it's illustrious passenger inside, but it was still pretty cool.  A couple of the babies are still pointing emphatically at any plane, helicopter, or bird they spot in the sky, and then insisting that their mothers force a landing for closer inspection.  

I'm not saying that that was a dry run for Obama's visit to Los Angeles this week.  I am saying that preschool was unexpectedly shut-down for two days due to unforeseen "park maintenance".  I guess it makes sense that POTUS trumps preschool, and at least we got a really awesome, up-close, personal air-show out of it.  

Sunday Guest Blog: Finding a Magical World

O: We are in the porky pine needle forest. If you wake the porky pine, it will poke you.

Kate and I have spent late nights planning adventures to museums, aquariums, zoos, or [insert other culturally/historically/scientifically relevant places here] with the lofty hope of not only entertaining our little ones, but enriching their lives. These trips are fun, exhausting, and sometimes overwhelming for all involved. Today, however, I was reminded that to a nearly-four-year-old, a walk with the dog around the block can be a magical adventure all by itself.

Mending Wall?

Hungry ghosts live in this tree. To pass, you must stop so they can nibble on your hair.

Don't forget to stop to smell the flowers.

This is the porky pine needle forest. Shhhhh...you might wake the porky pine and get poked.

While we will keep planning and going on those far or at least farther flung adventures, to be honest, when viewed through the eyes of a nearly-four-year-old, this nearly-forty-year-old found that walk around the block pretty magical too.  

Saying Yes: Another Sunday Guest Blog

O:  Daddy, will you dance in the rain with me?

J:  Yes.

I was already a half-hour late for work when O posed this question to me one morning.  Without hesitation, I said, "yes."

We danced and laughed together in the gentle rain for a few minutes, and then I left for work.  I didn't care that I was late anymore.  I didn't care that traffic was a little bit heavier now.  I didn't care that my dress shoes were a little (or maybe a lot) wet.

I had danced with my daughter in the rain.

Birthday Cake: A Sunday Guest Blog

O:  I want to have the first taste so it won't taste yuck!

This is O and P's Dad. No, I haven't hijacked Not Sure How Today Ends, but rather this is a guest post in honor of Kate's birthday next week.

Since Kate was rehearsing and performing all day Saturday, I had the chance to conspire with my children to come up with the perfect birthday celebration. P thinks we should celebrate by eating bananas all day. O thinks we need fancy decorations and round balloons. The long skinny balloons that we actually have in the house have not been deemed to carry the appropriate celebratory weight. I think as long as we celebrate together as a family, Kate will be happy.

So, here's the compromise we arranged. O and P made birthday cards and once P went to bed, O and I baked a cake. It is not a fancy cake. It came from a box. But it was a box that O selected at the market, and it was easy enough that an almost-four-year-old, and a baking-challenged father, could complete with relative success in the hour before bedtime. Fortunately, we had strawberries in the refrigerator. I didn't realize frosting wasn't included in the box so I had to  convince O that cut strawberries mixed with sugar make a sweet, syrupy topping that is WAAAAAY better than frosting. Come to think of it, maybe it really is.

Where the $%@# is the frosting? Come on, it's shown on the box!

Anyway, happy birthday, Kate! You are loved.

Humming Birds and Trumpet Vines

P: AAhhh egg canto black plaaa.  

O: She said she is going to find a spot where the flowers will grow, because that is the spot that will make them happy. 

We are too sick to go to school, but too well to stay home, and the weather has been beautiful, so we ventured out to the nursery.  There is a small family-owned nursery that has been around for generations, just a few blocks from us.  

this is our smelling flowers face

While wandering the rows O spotted a humming bird's nest.  She admonished me not to disturb the mama while I took her picture, but was perfectly delighted when I offered to scoop her up so she could get a closer look.  

Is it spring yet? It sure feels like it.

We found a climbing trumpet vine, with pink flowers.  It looks healthy enough and the man assured us that it would thrive in our very shallow, full-sun, flower box outside our front window. 

Behold, the conquering hero

Every morning, on waking, O rushes to the front window to update us on the vine's progress. So far, we have gotten a new flower every day, well worth the twelve dollars and fifty cents, especially if you include the fresh air, the humming bird's nest, and the sense of accomplishment. 

They have the most beautiful orchids.  I have yet to bring an orchid home.  I tend to kill plants, not with neglect, but with an abundance of love, a good metaphor for my parenting (I'm working on it). Perhaps, next time, I'll bring an orchid home to practice mindful neglect. 

Rainy Day at the Huntington Library

K: We are going in.  Do you remember the two rules about museums?

O: Quiet talking and no touching.

K: Right. 

O: But those are the two hardest things in the whole widest world.  I know, if I feel like feeling a painting, I'll just touch my nose instead.

Collecting Camellias 

I've been in rehearsal for Much Ado at the Long Beach Playhouse for the past month and family time has been hard to come by.  We used our first day off after opening to go to the Huntington Library.  It was drizzly and glorious, and I had a new camera.  

P had about 6 wardrobe changes due to excessive puddle jumping

We stayed outside for nearly our entire visit. The children's garden was a huge hit. 

Pink bear really got into the microscopes

Then, we attempted the main house. 

P is a rebel, just like her momma

After a pep talk about museum etiquette and promises of cookies, we visited several galleries and touched our noses a lot.  O thought that The Blue Boy looked very sad because he didn't have any one to play with.  I agree.  I wonder what she'll think of the Gutenberg Bible. Maybe next time.

So long, farewell...

We took selfies in the bathroom (babies and buttons), had a subpar lunch at the cafe (packing a picnic next time), and had, by all accounts, a stellar day.  

Which button?

The camellias were all in bloom and it was nice to forget we live in a city for a minute, and even nicer to be back in that city when we were were done. 

Fairyland

Can't recommend enough, a thirty minute drive and a world away.   

Where do you escape to when you only have an afternoon?