Christmas

Christmas this year--at least the beginning of it--has felt over-shadowed. I know that my feelings don't matter at all in relation to the marking of the Nativity of Christ and that most important aspect of the holiday was the highlight. Because of the weather, very few people made it to Liturgy so that only David and I served at the altar. I loved serving with him and he enjoyed the additional responsibility. The weather was a blessing in other ways as well. I love snow and we got to go sledding--Simon's first time. Snow is a pleasant challenge and always creates memories, like getting stuck in grandpa's driveway having Uncle Paul tow me out. But for all the fun and beauty, the weather definitely overshadowed the larger family gatherings and celebrating of the feast.

Poor planning was another dark cloud. It is the same complaint every year with me--I hate spending the weeks prior to Christmas in a stressed rush to finish everything. The things that I enjoy most--cooking and wrapping gifts--I do quickly at the last minute. I have already outlined a timeline for completing the Next-Christmas Project. I begins basically now and is complete by the beginning of Advent so that all I have left is cooking and wrapping so that I may give those activities the time they deserve and really enjoy them. I was thinking about what this means--a year-long preparation for Christmas. Hopefully, if I do it right, it will mean that I am giving the appropriate amount of attention to it at any given time rather than having to think about it 24-7 during the Advent season, which is better spent in a more reflective preparation. It will also spread out my focus on making/buying things for others and anything that focuses me on others is good. It is possible that an easy, well-paced year-long preparation for Christmas will be very edifying.

Of course, none of this matters a whit to the boys. I remember back when each of them was very young--around their first or second Christmases or birthdays, when they would open a present and be so absorbed by it that we would have to remind them that there is another present to open. Reluctantly, they would put down the first to open the second and then be absorbed by that. Not now. Even gifts that they absolutely love are rapidly dropped in favor of the next box, creating a blizzard of paper, ribbons, and Scotch Tape in the house that was as intense as the one outside. Their enjoyment this year was increased by the snow as well as by the gifts that they gave. We spent some time making low-relief plaster casts of their hands as a couple of gifts. We also spent quality time one afternoon picking out gifts from each of us to Jaime. Jaime did the same getting them presents for me. So they were just as excited when other people were opening their presents.

A few family members got them Barnes and Noble gift cards, which we went out and spent last night. Part of me wanted to exert some control over what they got, but I resisted. I am pretty happy with the haul. Simon got a book featuring anthropomorphic bulldozers, another featuring Cars characters, a stuffed "Max" from Where the Wild Things Are, and a kit that contains a rocket powered by baking soda and vinegar. David got a book featuring Batman, a kit about the solar system that includes models of the planets and a mini-cosmosphere, and a book of knock, knock jokes. He is trying to learn how to tell a joke. Since I used the word "learn" in the previous sentence, and because I'll make him read the jokes himself, I am considering it homeschool material.

So nothing overshadowed Christmas for them. The weather meant we had our service early in the evening so they both got to enjoy it--Simon had his mom to himself and David got to serve. The snow meant all kinds of fun. They weren't rushed about anything. They had fun making and buying presents. And, of course, they had fun receiving them.

Christ is Risen!

Altar Boy

So, I mentioned before that David and I have been practicing at being an altar boy. Today was the big day. Having practiced several times and told everyone who would listen that he was going to be serving, came in the back stairway after Sunday school, got his robe on, came in, prostrated, got his blessing, and then served like an old pro. Before he came up, I prayed to various and asorted saints for patience, not knowing how well he would do at the paying attention and not driving me crazy. Prayers answered. He did wonderfully, alternately paying attention and being fascinated and curious about everything that was happening and asking a continuous stream of questions.

Everyone agrees that he was adorable. One young woman told me that when he came out, she smiled at him, and he winked back at her. He waved and smiled and I think even gave a thumbs up to someone. Given the chance, he would have kissed babies and made campaign promises, I am sure.

We have two other young boys in the parish who do not serve. Both are several years older than David. One of them has served in the past, and the other has served in other parishes. I have sometimes wondered if they did not serve because they didn't want to be the only child serving. This is an area where I am the most pleased with David--his comfort with pretty much anyone regardless of age. He can hang out with and converse with adults and then go play with toddlers. Today, one of the other boys mentioned to his mom that he had been thinking about serving again and might do so next week. Perhaps David will make it easier for other boys to come hang out with the Subdeacons.

He was curious as to why he only has an altar-server's robe whereas I have a cassock and orarion in addition to a stichera. I explained that it is because I am a Subdeacon. He told me that, when he grows up, he wants to be a Subdeacon, just like me.

Dream big, son.

Brothers

"What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love."
- Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

I didn't grow up with brothers. One of my brothers died as a toddler and I hope intercedes for me before Our Heavenly Father. The other is quite a bit younger than me and has always lived in another town. I consider it a flaw in my character that I did not develop closer relationship with him. I have often envied the camaraderie of men who grew up together--brothers that I have seen in my extended family, books, and movies. Adult brothers often seem to interact within a constant running in joke, a funny, brave, and moving story about their lives together. Of course, sometimes that story is not funny and many brothers have tragic and conflicted relationships. Either way, the facets and flaws of masculinity seem to be amplified when brothers are together--stimulated by a lifetime of continuous reinforcement.

I was moved to reflect on this relationship when I saw this beautiful photograph of a groom with his two older brothers. The one on the right is friend of mine. Something about the groom's posture reminds of how I felt just before my own wedding. When I saw this photo, my first thought was about my own three sons. God willing, they will someday be gathered like this. They will posture, tease, horse around, recite old jokes and stories, allude to secrets kept between themselves. They will support each other, take council with each other and love each other. God willing they will be comrades in arms, teammates, shipmates, soul-mates. God willing, God willing, God willing. This is my prayer for them, that they will always be brothers.

Errata

I have uploaded a small variety of new photos to Flickr.

I came on this site one night in the boys' room, which I believe is an alternate ending to either Curious George or King Kong.

School time. Haven't talked much about that, but it is going ok. We don't do enough, but David is learning to read, write, do math, etc. When it is going well, it looks like this. Simon occupies himself on the other side of the table, usually with crayons and a coloring book. But here I decided to see if he has what it takes to begin doing some basic letter shapes . . . he does not . . . but look at the way he is holding the marker. It's like he was born with it in his hand. He also has much more interest in drawing, etc. than his brother.

David reading Where the Wild Things Are to me.

Getting violent on Thanksgiving.

Jaime was on the phone and Simon hopped up next to her . . .

To enjoy another Thanksgiving tradition.

David reading to Simon.

Where David surprises me by paying attention and Simon is sick

David behaves as well as any five-year-old in church--fidgety, tired, bored. our agreement is that he knows what points in the service that he is expected to stand, and for the rest he simply needs to not distract others. Then, I don't hassle or lecture him. If I see during the service that he is not standing, then I will limit his play for the rest of the day, expressing my concern that we are overworking him, which is why he must be so tired in church. But generally, he does ok and makes regular, if uneven, improvement.

We have decided to let him begin serving in the altar at Christmas. So last week, after church, I found an altar-server's robe that fit him and took him in to the altar to show him around and start teaching basic etiquette. I also gave him a lamp to see if he is able to carry it around while wearing an altar-server's robe. I started showing him the basics of the processions. We got to the readings:

Me: while everyone is singing 'Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal,' we stand here. Then when Father says 'Dynamis' we go out this way . . .
David: And stand by the carpet.
Me: Right! Then, what do we do after Reader John is finished with the epistle?
D: We go over here [turns, goes to the correct spot]. Then when Father is done reading [the Gospel] we do this [turns to the iconostas, bows turns and goes back into the altar]

I was stunned. I had no idea he was paying so much attention. Fr. Joseph and I decided tonight that he will serve for the first time on the 20th. He was elated.

In other news, Simon has a fever and mild cold symptoms. It seems like a mild flu with one exception. He has a red mark on his back that seems to be growing. We fear that it may be a spider bite. This was a bigger concern yesterday when the fever and some pain were his only symptoms. The addition of other cold symptoms makes me think flu but it could also be that he is suffering from a bite, but has also caught the cold that David has been carrying around for awhile.

We wait and see.

End of training season

A friend of ours gave David a bicycle a couple of years ago. For the first year we had it, he was too small and could not control it. But he has done ok with training wheels for the past year. Recently, I had noticed that, when he was riding in a straight line, he would todder back and forth from one training wheel to the other, indicating that he was not relying on them to keep him up. But I was not sure that he could start and stop--the points at which he would need strength and coordination to stay balanced. I feared the bike was still too heavy for him. On the other hand, he was clearly sick of training wheels. Many of the kids his size in the neighborhood had already removed theirs and David had reached maximum speeds, distance, maneuverability, and tricks possible with a four-wheel setup.

So, 2 1/2 weeks ago, on one of our lovely July Saturday afternoons, we pulled off the training wheels and headed to the parking lot across the street for a few hours of falling down. As I predicted, when dad held him up and gave him a push, he was fine to ride in a more-or-less straight line for about 80 yards and then fall over. I would walk to him, put him back on, point him in the other direction, and push. Gradually, he experimented with turns, and then with stopping. Then with starting on his own. One time out of ten he could get going by himself. After and hour he was confident enough to leave my sight. The lot where we were learning is a school campus so it has acres of black top and buildings and stuff to explore. I explained that the lot went all the way around the nearest building and challenged him to ride circuit. This gave me a couple of tense moments to question my wisdom until David came tearing around the corner at the bottom of the lot, up to me and right on by as I yelled "allez allez allez vite vite vite!" By the end of that first day, I dusted my own bike off, hitched up the trailer for Simon, and went riding in the parking lot with him. David fell down a lot, but I was in the clouds. I am sure there are few greater pleasures than riding bikes with one's sons. At one point he decided he wanted to go up a road from the lot that he had never been up. "I don't know what is up here, I just wanted to see." That, is the essence of a boy on a bike in July.

But here is what impressed me the most: his diligence. I could not have kept track of how many times he fell off that bike. And not just the little falls where the bike stops and tips over and he has to scramble to get out from under it (though that happened hundreds of times); he took some serious falls. There is a stretch of sidewalk in center of our own parking lot that forms a narrow, tall horseshoet. It is on a gradual slope. In the grass below the curve of this horseshoe are several utility pipes that stick up just a couple of inches and have metal or pvc caps. So, a boy on a bike will fly down this hill and try to take the very tight curve at the bottom and if he misses, he has iron and pvc mushrooms to deal with. And he dealt with them, spectacularly, in clouds of dust and pain. He got Tylenol at bedtime that evening. Another time we were in the school lot after a rain. I explained how wet tires don't turn well so he should avoid the puddles--the big puddles, the long, straight little streams of run-off like silver temptation down the middle of the lot. Sure enough, when you take a tight turn and then break with those wet tires--POW! And back up again. But mostly, it was stopping and starting. Oh the frustration. Over and over and over again he fell as he tried to get started. And I would refuse to help for long stretches of time. Once, the bike fell over and he made a couple of violent physical gestures towards it and then stomped over to me, fists raised and clenched, and pounded once on my hip. "Do you feel better?"

"No"

"Ready to get back on?"

"Yes."

It took me a week to realize that there was room to lower his seat an inch. That cinched the deal. Now. after a couple of weeks of constant riding, he is an old pro, having conversations with friends while turning slow, lazy little circles in the parking lot and then racing like a mad fiend a top speed around and around and around. He has switched from playing with the younger kids to playing with the older kids. He snaps his own helmet and parks the bike on the back porch (most of the time) when he is done. He comes in for the evening sweaty and exhausted and showers himself off.

I remember when he was barely eight pounds.

Fishing

Dad is threatening me unless I update the blog and I will admit that a lot has happened since the last time I wrote to you. Mostly: fishing and bicycling.

I don't remember now where David got the idea that he wanted to fish, but it came from somewhere a long time ago. I am always interested in learning a new way to get food from scratch, so I was game. Thing, is, I don't know diddly about fishing. Last time I fished was when I was about 10. As I recall, a worm is involved as well as a lot of standing around being bored, ending with getting to eat fish. While standing still for a couple of hours and eating fish appeal to me now, neither of these are on David's List of Fun. So I wanted to begin with a minimal up-front investment. I borrowed a rod/reel from my brother-in-law and then set out to equip us as inexpensively as I could. I started at the local fishing/bow-hunting supplier by basically walking in with Brooke's pole, setting it on the counter, pointing to it, then to a picture of a fish, then to my mouth and grunting. I walked out with floaters, sinkers, line, worms, and a license. At Walmart, I got David a rod, reel, and Spiderman tacklebox. $50.00 later, I was ready to kill me a fish. But I need skills, right? Well, I read the fishing section of the Kansas Wildlife and Parks Department Web site cover-to-cover and hoped that would suffice. David and I set off to the closest fishing hole: A few acres of pond on the governer's property up the road.

David got the first hit. It was a small Green Sunfish about the size of both of his hands. I was really glad he caught something quickly. Before we went out the first time, I made him promise that we would go fishing together five times before he declared that he is no longer interested. I just didn't want to drop two bits, have him see how totally boring fishing is, and give up. Him catching four times as many fish as me on the first day really helped. What is funny is that he was so impatient. He would drop his line in the water, pull it up and exasperate, "why didn't I get a fish?" I tried to model proper fishing technique by dropping my line and then reading "War and Peace." Finally I told him that he had to drop his line and count to 100 before reeling in. I don't know that he ever got to 100. But 50 was enough to get a hit most of the time. That was a good evening. I even caught one myself. The next time we went, Simon went with us. To help occupy him, I tied hook, line and sinker to a stick for Simon to "play" at fishing. He had a hit before I could even get my own rig set up.

One thing that was iritating David was that I was casting and he could only drop his line from the dock. The reason was simple: I didn't think he could cast without injuring inocent bystanders. When I bought him the rod and reel, I was full of confidence so I bought him an open-face spinning reel and a rod that seemed small enough in the store. But the first time he held it realized that it was about as long and mine--about three times as long as him and the reel was a complete puzzle to him (they are to everyone at first). So I put off teaching him how to cast for as long as possible. The process of casting goes like this: you pinch some line against the rod just above the reel to secure it, flip the bail over to release the line, raise the rod up behind you, and then cast forward releasing the finger holding the line at just the right moment. Not too soon, not too late and not your whole hand. It took a lot of practice for me and I just was not sure that David has the coordination. So we set up on the hill next to the house. I weighted his line and tied some frayed rope to the end where a hook and lure would normally be. He pinched the line, released the bail, pulled the rod up over his head until it was touching the ground behind him, let go of the line, and cast, leaving the line on the ground. 20-30,000 casts later, he is a pro. The ease with which he pinches the line and flips the bail amazes me. He cannot cast as far as me for lack of strength, but he can cast successfully as often as I can (feint praise). We are ruthless with other about casting. When I botch a cast, David yells, "lousy cast!" I return the observation when he ties his line to the end of his rod. Open face reels can be a bit touchy at times and we have had to deal with problems with too much line coming off and getting tied up in knots. We have cut off scores of yards of line. I spend much of my time just helping him work out little problems like this. But the other day, I watched him cast, take up his slack, realize the line was acting up, re-release the bail and fix it without hesitation.

I remember when he barely weighed eight pounds and get all verklempt.

We have been fishing five times now in three different places on two different bodies of water. We have expanded our repretior in an attempt to pull in a larger, more varied catch. I have been working with jigs and we have fished with catfish bait. We've only gotten one catfish, which was not a keeper. The last time we fished, on my first cast, I hit our first keeper--a modest Drum fish with a tube jig. David was thrilled and spend most of the rest of the evening just watching it pout in the bucket of water we put it in. That evening I clumbsily filleted it and the next night we had fish tacos. David was excited until I put it in front of him when suddenly he was not hungry. Additionally, he has been getting bored earlier in each fishing expedition. However, he still seems to be interested in going again. We had to run an errand up by Lake Perry yesterday, but didn't have time to fish while were there and he was disapointed. Hopefully, he'll land a keeper before he gives up. Something I like about fishing with jigs is that you cast and reel rather than cast and go write your memoirs. It is more suited to a five-year-old. Likewise, I have decided I don't like worms. They are boring, easily picked off the hook, and you have to keep them alive.

I have a couple of friends and a brother who are anglers, so I hope to get some more lessons, soon. Lessons that will produce pictures of David and I holding up great big fish. I'll post them when I get them.

DOWAMAPLCSHRF2009

Part of the problem with trying to keep a regular blog (if memory serves) is remembering interesting things to write. I hit on a new idea today. Typically, when something of note happens, I Tweet about it. So my Twitter/Facebook status list becomes a sort of outline for possible blogging.

Thursday, David and I set off for an adventure. We were to spend two days in Wichita at the Parish Life Conference and then two days in Salina at the Smoky Hill River Festival. The Parish Life Conference is the annual gathering of our diocese (Diocese of Wichita and Mid-America--DOWAMA) to conduct business and have fun. This is my third conference and David's first as an attendee (he was at part of one as a PLCCK--Parish Life Conference Chairman's Kid). The Smoky Hill River Festival is an annual festival of music, arts, crafts, and games and a Major Family Event for the Gilberts. David and I have done a bit of long-course traveling together and we always have fun, so I was really looking forward to this one.

Part of the appeal of the conference for me is seeing people that I hear and read on the Net or only know through email. I have previously met Fr. Joseph Huneycutt, but haven't gotten to speak with him much. This year I had a couple of conversations with him, which was weird. He produces the goofiest Orthodox Podcast on the Net--always trying to be funny. Part of the humor is his thick Dixie accent, which he plays up on the podcast. When listening to it, I picture him being highly animated and goofy at the mike. So it is incongruous to hear that same voice, with that same accent, while discussing the St. Phillip's Prayer Discipline, with someone who is, in fact, not animated at all, and who is wearing a long black cassock. I pestered him enough for information about the prayer discipline that he gave me a pile of materials and deputized me to recruit others. I look forward to getting a group started. Other notables connections included my old boss, Fr. Justin Matthews, my hopefully future Chancellor, Fr. Chad Hatfield, all the various officers and organizers of the conferences and it committees and, most important of all (though he would say least of all) our beloved Bishop BASIL. These are all our elder uncles and cousins in the family of the faith and it is nice to see them, if only briefly.

I think the highlight of the trip for David was the Motel 6, where we stayed because it is cheap. it is cheap because it is smaller than my bedroom and smells like feet. But he did not care. He had two beds to jump on and he wanted to skip the conference and spend the entire time in that room. But I insisted that he go with me and actually participate. He did all the kids stuff, which involved games, coloring, a magic show, a trip to the zoo, and lots of running around. As I predicted, he quickly made fast friends with a number of boys and girls. At various times during the event, we would see the youth being shuttled from one place to another. David was always in the middle chatting and gesticulating wildly with other kids. But whenever he saw me, he wanted to know when we could go back to the motel.

On both days, the kids stuff ended right before Vespers. In both cases, we had to sit next to a new friend of his. I realized at some point, that this was the most important aspect of the trip for me. I really wanted David to have a good time with other kids from the Diocese. Church is simply too often drudgery for a five-year-old-boy. It is important to me that he have many reasonably positive experiences without giving him the impression that Jesus is simply his playground buddy. Thursday night, when he suggested that we pray before going to bed, I nearly exploded with joy.

One of the highlights of the conference, if you like this kind of thing, is the "Bible Bowl." It basically "Hi-Q" for bible geeks. This year was on the Gospel of John. I forgot to study except for the day of the bowl. There are adult teams and teen teams. Out of a dozen adult teams, our team came in forth--six points behind the winning team. I personally cost us three points on questions that I had reviewed in the one study session--questions that I would have known if I had studied. Me and my teammate even had a conversation about the 153 fish caught in chapter 21, but I could not remember the quantity at the crucial moment. Still, with very little studying on our parts, we came in forth. I see no reason why we cannot dominate next year in Oklahoma City.

Another highlight--Western Rite Matins. This is matins chanted according to the Western Rite (looks and feels like Roman Catholic or Anglican rites) using English Plainchant that Anglicans would be familiar with. I love this. Byzantine Chant is lovely, but will always sound foreign to me--especially in English. Plainsong, on the other hand, is the English Language at its most perfect. It is the way God intended English to be heard. I hope that as Orthodox Christianity takes root in American and England, that the chant will be allowed to naturally drift in that direction--some sort of Plainchant with Byzantine tonal references perhaps, I don't know. I know what you are thinking--"why not just become a Western Rite Orthodox?" Well, too many issues there.

The Business Meeting is hardly worth mentioning, thank God. These are very informal. Substantial business is truly conducted, but it is done quickly, with humor, without rancor, easily. I've been in staff meetings at work that are more onerous (and longer).

Then, David and I headed back to Topeka, met up with Simon, Skylar, Brooke, and Isabelle, dropped of the car for Jaime, and took Grandpa's van to Salina for the River Festival. I think we took all of the pillows that we collectively own.

It seems that the music was particularly good this year. Of course I am going through a blue/folk/country/roots phase right now, so that could have something to do with really enjoying all of the acts I saw. At first the kids seemed to get into the music as well, but that didn't last long and I am not sure why. So they did crafts, got their faces painted (well, Simon and Izzy did), won free* fish, and begged for expensive fried food.

Dad lives just a few blocks from the festival, so we walk back and forth between the park and his house quite a bit. One time, Brooke noted that a lot of people in Salina use blankets as window coverings. I suggested that we open a "Blankets for your Windows" store and tap into this market.

The Big Event Saturday night was the Fabulous Thunderbirds--or the one original member who still has rights to the name, and his back-up band. I missed most of it putting the kids to bed, but I arrived in the middle of the World's Longest Harmonica Solo. That guy kills on the harmonica. He is better than me.

By fortunate coincidence, Sunday was the Feast of All Saints, which is always the Sunday after Pentacost, and the Orthodox Church in Salina is All Saints Orthodox Church. Furthermore, the founding pastor of this parish was in town because of the conference down in Wichita, so he served the Liturgy for their feast day.

Sunday afternoon, the kids spent most of there time at the play ground. At one point David and Izzy started playing in the sand pit and so did Simon. Eventually, he got tired of sand in his sandals so he sat on the curb that demarcates the pit, and took them off. This was very close to the main stage and a great band began playing, so I sat on the bench next to the sand pit and watched while keeping one eye on the kids. Long after David and Izzy had run off with other kids, Simon remind sitting on the curb. He made little piles of sand and knocked them down. He piled sand on one his shoes and then pulled the shoe out. He made piles on the curb, and swept them off. For the full 45 minutes of the performance, he sat quietly with the sand. He only then stopped because I stopped him so we could potty.

Brooke likes to eat a lot. The boy is always hungry. During this trip, he was always hungry for Sirloin Stockade and the running joke was that he constantly asked to go there. "Sure" I said as we left Salina, "we can eat there." What I meant was, "I would never set foot in a Sirloin Stockade." I'm pretty sure he understood my meaning. I was interested in taking hwy 24 from Manhattan to Topeka because it is a more pleasant drive than I-70. But I missed the Manhattan exit. I was fine giving up on the idea but Skylar convinced me to just take the next exit--Deep Creek Road. Half way down the exit ramp, the road turned to gravel. Then we drove for miles on this winding gravel road with no idea where it might lead. Finally it lead back to Manhattan so we headed for hwy 24. By this point we were all very hungry, so we decided to stop and eat. What would you guess is at the junction of hwy 24 and Whatever-road-we-were-on? Sirloin Stockade. What a weird place. Pay $9 and just eat as much warm beige food as you can fit inside of your self. I had meatloaf, salad, coleslaw, beets, bread pudding, ice cream, cookies, part of a cupcake, a piece of brownie, root beer, and probably other stuff that I am forgetting. It was bizarre. Deliciously bizarre. Brooke was hungry as soon as we got back in the car.

Home was a welcome sight, as was my wife, who had to miss the whole trip for various reasons. If this weekend is to set the tone for the rest of the summer, then I am going to have a lot to blog about.

How David Got a Free* Fish

So we were at the Smoky Hill River Festival (more on that later) and the boys wanted to play some of the games. First David attempted to pitch the dunk tank, with no success. Next, we spied a game consisting of a table covered with vases of water. There were some small fish in a couple of these vases. The object was to throw a ping-pong ball in the general direction of the vases. If the ball landed in a vase with a fish, you won a free* fish. It seemed fun. It seemed just David's skill level. It seems that I must have been thinking something like, "in the unlikely even that he lands in a vase with a fish, we can all praise his skill and laugh about how he won a hypothetical fish but not really but that is ok because he'll be satisfied with the sense of accomplishment," or something like that. Second ball, free* fish. Turns out it was just a coupon for a free* fish at the local pet store. From that moment on, going to the pet store and getting his free* fish was the only thing that mattered.

Incidentally, I thought Simon could play this game as well. I know he can throw, but that day, he just kind of jerked around spasmodically and then let go of the ball.

So I gave the issue some thought. The coupon is for a free* gold fish but you can't just buy a gold fish and take it home and put it in a bowl. Bettas are the fish for that because they can breathe from the surface and don't need water pumps and all. So I decided I would just go to my local pet store and drop some spare change on a Betta, and put it in a bowl for David. Skylar mentioned that the pet store has a whole Betta kit with bowls and rocks and all for less than $20--way more than I wanted to spend, but I figured it was less than equiping a gold fish. So that was the plan.

Well, then Jaime mentioned that Walmart has inexpensive little fish tanks. They are probably cheaper than the ones at the fish store. Sure enough, just $9.43 with a pump and a light and everything. Everything except rocks, and a plant, and fish food and water conditioner, and a little net, and a free* fish. So we get all that stuff, too, except the free* fish. Turns out that is still less money than just a plastic box with rocks, plants, food, nets, and water conditioner from the pet store where we go to buy the free* fish. As I write, it occurs to me that, since we ended up with a pump, we really didn't need to confine ourselves to a Betta. We could have gotten a gold fish. As a matter of fact, we could have gotten a free gold fish with our coupon, but I don't think that occured to us at the time.

So just shy of *$40 and an hour later, we have a very cute little tank with rocks and a plastic plant, and a pump and a free* Betta. I think we should name him Patrick Henry since he was not free, is not free and will certainly die.

After the Betta has been thoroughly user tested, we'll move to a standard release. Our plans include a real plant and some snails to keep the place tidy. So our household and grown ever so slightly and the boys have a slightly new level of responsibility.

We have decided that we'll remind David to feed it every day for one week. Thereafter, we will not remind him. My initial idea was that, if the fish died, well, he would learn. But I don't like that idea. Fact is, I like the fish as much as he does and I don't want it to die. So I think I'll keep tabs on wether or not he is feeding it. If he does not feed it, I will and if that goes on for a week or so, I'll move the fish to my bedroom for a period and call it mine.

I had a farm in Africa

Tomorrow, David and I leave for Wichita for the 2009 Parish Life Conference of the Region of Ambiguous Status formerly known as the Diocese of Wichita and Mid-America. I'll spend my day doing grown up things, like listening to annual reports, while David goes to the Zoo. He was feeling nervous about it because he thinks that he is afraid of crowds of people he does not know. Nevermind that you can give him scads of examples where he OWNS crowds of people he doesn't know. I finally pointed out to him that he is just feeling nervous--that his chest is a bit tight and he has a weird feeling in his stomach, but that is not the same thing as fear. I told him that the game is to see how long it takes for that feeling to go away. He was certain it would take ten years. I estimate 10-15 minutes. Plus, I told him he gets to ride a bus, which cheered him right up.

Jaime and Simon, meanwhile are going to Kansas City to drop in on Friends.

Then, David and Head back here Friday night, hook up Simon and the Esteses and head to the Next Annual Smoky Hill River Festival.

I am not taking a computer with me, so beyond what I can Tweet, I will not be updating. I know, what are you going to do without daily updates, right? It'll be like the bad ol' days earlier this week. Instead I am taking a book to pass the down times. The Topeka and Shawnee County Public Library mailed me a copy of "Out of Africa." Apparently, I requested it. I don't recall doing that. But they sent it to me right on the heals of a notice that I have about 15 overdue items. Enabling, that is all I can say.

Also, my camera is broken, so I won't be documenting anything that way, either.

The house smells like chicken and beets

Auntie Skylar started a new blog about her latest project and that got me to thinking, "hey, I have one of those; I should dust it off and see how long it takes before I can prove I know how to use a semicolon correctly."

The Big News around here today is that David woke up from a bad dream to a Buzz Lightyear. The way Jaime tells it, he told her that he had a bad dream this morning and woke up and turned over and there was Buzz and he closed his eyes and opened them again and Buzz was still there. I am the one who put Buzz in bed with him. After years of keeping my finger securely in the hole of the dam holding back the Buzz Lightyear, I was finally overwhelmed by the forces of nature. It happened when the mother of David's bestest friend said that this friend wanted to give David his Buzz Lightyear. She is standing there with it in her hand and I didn't have whatever it might have taken to say, "No, he can keep it." Just the other night, David and I were eating ice cream on the front porch after sunset when he spotted a star. I taught him how to wish on a star and he wished for Buzz Lightyear. So this morning I put it in bed with him before I left for work.

He called me later at work and told me that he really liked the Buzz Lightyear. There was not a shread left in his voice of a little boy or toddler or anything. I was struck by how very grown up he sounded. I have been thinking a lot lately about how little he was when he was born and sighing.

This evening I made chicken stock and pickled beets and eggs. Actually I finished stock that I began several days ago and then ran out of time. I have been reading a couple of books about food and cooking, which inspired the stock: Nourishing Traditions (I'll omit the embarrasing subtitle) and Ratio: The Simple Codes Behind the Craft of Everyday Cooking. As a result of both of these, I have been doing a lot of experementing in the kitchen. I've made various things such as Kombucha, cream cheese and whey, Kim Chi, pickled carrots, five shortbread cookies, dumplings, pop-overs, fritters, and, this evening, stock and pickled beets. Not sure what I am going to do with the stock. Tomorrow is a fasting day, I am out of town Thursday through the weekend, and the Apostles' Fast begins Monday. So basically, I will not have the oportunity to do anything with it unil July. But the house smells nice, if you like beets.

Reading with David

Although we are beginning later than I had wanted, we are finally moving into full gear (2nd-gear, at least) with David's reading. Jaime's new schedule has allowed us more breathing room for this kind of structure. Additionally, David is developing a growing awareness of reading and the benefit to him.

We had our biggest break-through last week when he finally got the idea of blending sounds together rather than pronouncing them separately like syllables. That seemed to happen overnight. One day he is saying "cuh-aaa-tuh" and the next day "cat." Additionally, I began using techniques for teaching that I learned when helping teach a learning-disabled child. It is a system that curbs the amount of frustration that comes with trying to answer a question he doesn't fully understand the answer to, while still giving him incentive to figure it out on his own, while not taxing his attention span.

Lord have mercy, he is squirmy. Every ten seconds I am asking him to put his bottom on his chair and his feet in front of him. I am the same way still.

So, now his primary barrier to reading is his own willingness. It is something else that mom and dad (especially dad) want him to do so, even though he wants to learn to read, it is sometimes more important to test the limits of his own will by refusing to cooperate. I am being as dexterous as I can be here. I really do not want reading to become a power struggle. So far so good though. I generally only have to ask him twice to compare the understanding of evil and human nature as depicted in "Les Miserables" and "Crime and Punishment." When he gets it right, he gets a sticker.

Later squirmy fans.

"Best Buddy" the final episode

"Best Buddy" Episode II

We filmed this at the end of the day so David was getting kind of worn out (hard to believe, I know). He had been singing these all day. So they aren't quite as imaginative as they had been earlier in the day. Nevertheless I think they still reflect the bold creative genius of the thrash-toddler-mosh-haze genre.

Best Buddy, the video sensation that is sweeping blogs around this house

David told me on the way home from grandpa's that he would sing me his new song and I was intrigued. His mom reminded him at dinner. While I am always entertained by David's attempts to, um, entertain, nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. Over the next couple of days, I'm sharing a nugget of the improv rock poetry deliciousness with you.

Enjoy.

Pasta

So, we made pasta last week. Sometime during the summer, Grandma Suzie gave a real eye-TAL-yen pasta makin' contraption. This thing is so authentic, the directions are in seven languages and none of them are American. We had to use British directions.

Aunt Marla was in town, so we invited her and Aunt Skylar over and made a morning of it. Lots of fun. We took pictures and I made a set called "cooking" for this and future such endevors.

David takes his pasta very seriously.

Simon played quietly with the left over flour crumbs the entire time.

Yes, we bleached all the surfaces that the pasta touched

AHGHG! MY FINGER, YOU ARE CRANKING THE WRONG WAY!
It is amazing how long your index finger gets when you set the press to "5"

1.5 hours later. Simon is still playing with the flour crumbs.

Sick Simon and growing David

We drove to Manhattan last night to see dad. Simon fell asleep on the way, but not the whole way. He woke up grumpy, complained of his tummy hurting and rested on his mom's shoulder the entire rest of the evening. He was a bit under the weather in the morning but seemed fine when I saw him in the evening.

I spoke with David on the phone this afternoon and marveled at how different he sounds. His inflection, the sound of his voice, and the things he talks about reflect a boy who is, for all intents and purposes, a five-year-old. He is already planning his fifth birthday party, which you are invited too.

Having hung the Simon-bait on the branch, David runs to his hiding place
to wait for the boogy man to fall for his trap.

On the couch, in the woods.

Last week, Jaime sheared the boys, dressed them up in flannel, and took their pictures.



Then on Saturday, I sat them down myself for a photoshoot.




On Sunday afternoon, the weather was perfect for a three-hour walk in the woods, with dad, and his camera:

Chapter books, great books, award-winning books, and letters

We've passed another milestone on the path to literacy. Last week, I began reading David a chapter book--Stuart Little. Previous most bedtime reading was stories that we could get through in a single sitting. The occasional exception might be when I simply did not have it in me to Bartholomew Cubbins start-to-finish for the 1,000th time and I would split it over two nights. But I came across our copy of Stuart Little while cleaning a couple of weeks ago and decided to give it a go.


It is a great choice for first chapter book. Each chapter is only five-or-six pages most of them have a plot arc within them. The language is for the most part direct and simple with just the right amount of advanced vocabulary. It is fairly entertaining for the child and the adult. David is eating it up. I am impressed with the amount of information he retains as well as his over-all interest in the book. Simon could not be more painfully bored. But he has his own milestone that I'll get to in a minute.

So onward and upward with the chapter books. If you have recommendations for a four-year-old, I would love to hear them. I assume when we get to the end of this one, David will want me to start it over again, so there is no rush. But we have reached the next step in his library building.

Speaking of reading, I have been thinking about Great Books for kids. I plan to focus the boy's education around a "Great Books" curriculum to the degree that I am able and want to get started. You know how you can get a quadrillion books of Bible stories for children? Well we would certainly love a high-quality volume of those. But I also want some stories of Great Literature for children. These are more difficult to come by, but they are out there--teh stories of writers like Homer, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Melville, Dickens etc. as well as the standard classic stories for children. Also, I have found some selections of poetry, as well as children's versions of stories from the Arabian Nights. That last one demonstrates the difficult waters we get into here. I brought a children's telling of Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves home from the library forgetting that it is a story of gore, dismemberment (and rememberment), and boiling oil. I had to practically make up a new story and skip over certain pictures as I was reading it. Please do not feel obligated to find Titus for kids. But I want to get David started on as much of this as possible. I would like him to be familiar with the Great Books of Western Civilization starting with the stories contained therein. Frankly, it the only way I'll become familiar with them myself.

My second general recommendation is this article about Caldecott winners. By those for Christmas. Get some for David and Simon, too. The only Caldecott that I know we own is Where the Wild Things Are.

As for Simon's milestone--letters in the environment. When we are out and about, he has begun pointing out letters and numbers. Not by name, usually, but just as general fact; "letters daddy!" Signs on buildings, mostly. This is interesting to me because I don't recall David ever doing this. Simon seems generally more interested in letters than David ever has been. He is also more interested in coloring than David generally ever has been.

Ssss Ehhh Ksss

I am very proud to announce that David has passed an important milestone on the path to literacy. We work with him quite a bit on letter sounds and he pretty much knows the what sound each letter makes (well, at least one sound per letter anyway). He is still struggling a bit with short vowel distinctions. But he has not been able to mush the sounds together into a word. He has not been able to get C-A-T from "Kuh. Aaa. Tuh" to "cat."

Until yesterday. For the first time he looked at a series of letters, not as several unrelated sounds, but as a pronounced unit.

We were in Brooke's truck where he was messing with a promotional beach ball containing this logo:

Which he proudly parsed as "SEX."

So, we had to remind him that "C" can be hard, as in "cat" but I did not let the significance of his effort pass.

We are on the way to literacy. Perhaps Freudian literary criticism, even.