I was already smitten but I wasn
Stay Sweet and Not As Smelly
It saddens me a little sometimes when I do drop off and in the course of the morning circuit I have to return to the Elementary School after dropping off the older one at his campus just a few blocks away.
Whenever I can quickly contrast the difference between the ages at each school I awe at how much these little people change in a short amount of time. The little dramas they concoct at the younger grades are more male belief than the concerns the bigger ones face that could have actual consequences. The tiny ones are still in awe of us so-called-adults whereas the pre-teens keep us at a safe distance.
I sometimes wish they didn
Locked Out of Heaven
The kid sank deeper into the back seat with worry. At the wheel, the father was making wild gestures with his face and the most rapid articulations with his arms. There was sincere pleading from the concerned tyke but they were being ignored. The other more experienced kid in the passenger seat sat in resolved silence. “This will pass like it always does” he muttered to himself. Finally at the drop off the younger kiddo fumbled fast to unlock the backdoor and escape to her campus and away from the mad-energy.
To outsiders, once the car door opened the deafening beat of Bruno Mar’s Locked Out of Heaven wailed out and the dad inside kept on Car-Dancing with Muppet like precision.
The child still within the vehicle and the one that had escaped exchanged glances…first a glare then pity.
Style File
Hippie!!! My oldest had weaseled himself from getting a haircut for months and was way overdue for some styling. He
I Never
I never as a kid…wore my pajamas to school, have a class for just puzzles, taken out of school for In-N-Out hamburgers w/mates, have Subway subs with my teacher at lunch time, have Santa as a super-close friend of the family, walked in a parade with my school, have a DJ play tunes during my lunch hour…had my dad record all his observations for me to read and roll my eyes at years later.
Building a Memory
My wife and son left the table.
They went to tend to our new baby-chicks and left my youngest and I sitting behind. My littlest-tyke always eats slowly and I was in no rush to get up from the still steaming cup of Tanzanian coffee before me and her company. I watched her picking at her hash browns. Picking up bits of potato and gleefully popping them into her mouth. In the background Marley
Uncool
My pop was inherently uncool. He spoke in broken English. His pompadour-like hair hadn’t be “in” for a while. His belts were gaudy. He didn’t trust video games, news magazines and East LA neighbours that claimed to not speak Spanish. He didn’t shoot hoops but would speak endlessly about when he played front
At Drop Off
“Got it” his yelp trailed off as the passenger side door closed shut behind him. I sat there a moment watching him walk away and thinking that my own father would not have let me get away with that flip of a good-bye.
My parents were different though and each morning at drop off or each night at bedtime we had to tell our parents we loved them whether we felt like it or not. I recall countless times when I kissed my dad on the forehead before going to bed while seething inside about his latest trespass I had perceived. I recoiled when my mother demanded that I give her a good-bye hug the morning after she had told me she wasn’t going to pay for brand name sneakers. I didn’t care for those moments. Now here I was, limp in my seat questioning whether I should demand the “I love you too” I feel I have earned. The light honk behind snapped me out my pity party and I drove away from the Middle School.
A cup of freshly brewed coffee waited for me at home…it would certainly perk my spirits.
Ancient Tech
While on a walkabout the kids found an olde antique shop in San Dimas. There they came about an ancient device with some odd dial for sale. They pawed at it with wonder for a minute before I stepped in. I told them a land-before-time tale of phones without screens.
They stood there in wonderment of them simpler times.
A Cherub came Home
A cherub came home.
He was plump and a little wrinkly as I carried him past the threshold.
For some time his cheeks so pinchable, arms squishable and when he laughed his belly shook like a bowl full of jelly.
Fast forward a decade just after I picked him up at the airport from his first summer trip. His 5’1″ frame strutted into his home and shocked his mom for a moment. He’s now taller than some adults. Traded the wrinkles for long lean legs and arms.
His sweetness remains.
He has not but one care.
The cherub is gone and
morphing to debonair.