The Henry Dossier

Henry, age 5, is a kinetic wonder. He came with only two operational modes: fast and off. He runs until he sleeps.

His soccer coaches commented with some wonder, that no matter how they tried, Henry was the one kid they could never wear out. Other kids ask for breaks but he only asks to get back in the game. While in the game, he is a whirlwind of simultaneous offense and defense. Katie reported he scored 4 goals in this morning's game. And to her joy, he threw a magnificent fit when the game was over and he couldn't keep playing. My absence, of course, makes such tantrums all the brighter. Katie really loves it when I travel.

Accounts from school portray a bright and eager learner. His competitive nature makes for a bit of a whiz at math because his desire to calculate the score differential and how long it would take to catch up is like a World War Z zombie trying to pass on its disease. Speaking of, that movie didn't make any sense. So, your dead, and all your bones are broken from stepping in front of a car, or jumping off a 100-foot wall to chase the living, yet you run faster than when you were alive. I can only suspend my disbelief so far. Am I off topic?

Henry has essentially two requests, which feel like they are coming from a Gatling gun: Someone must play some sport with him, and he needs candy.

He's charming when not tired, a terrorist when exhausted.

Goodbye Curb

I was leaving again for a three week work trip. The kids were anxious and sad. Caleb asked if he could walk me down to the taxi (we live on the eighth floor). Of course he could. Maddie wanted to come as well. Henry, a despiser of the goodbye scene, passed.

We went down with back pack and suitcase. The taxi was already there, so it was time to go. I gave them both a hug and reached for my suitcase.

"No dad," Caleb said. "Let me do this for you." He grabbed the heavy suitcase and dragged it to the curb.

Then they both stood on the corner and waived for the three minutes it took for the light to turn green and the taxi to drive out of view. It is strange how this breaks my heart, yet calms my soul.

It's Hard When It Gets Easier

The evolution of my role as father is more or less as follows:

1. Awkward observer

2. Eager helper

3. Worker bee (drone)

4. Clean up crew

5. Body guard

6. Psychological torture victim (aka "when the female mastered language")

7. Courier

8. Referee

9. Coach

So far the work has been physically demanding, a massive endurance challenge. But the objectives have been straight forward. Get kids to school on time and alive, for example, is a logistics problem with pretty clear inputs and objectives.

But strange days are arriving. Hints of adolecence are upon us. The first "body image" concern was recently expressed. The physical demands have eased. Not getting at least 7 hours of sleep is now of my own doing (Monday Night Football is on late, you know) and almost never because of the kids. Two thirds of them tie their own shoes.

How quaint do such concerns suddenly seem, however, now that reasons to worry have increased (I mean, they're just out in the world, like, doing stuff...without me) while influence is indirect and endangered. I realize "Coach" should have been earlier than number nine on the list above.

Dream Team

Caleb decided to try out for the "Dream Team" of his Tae Kwon Do dojo. This involved all manner of speed, strength, and flexibility tests. And man did he want it bad.

I know how flexible he is. I stretch with him in the mornings (can I say "in the mornings" if we got up three mornings and stretched and worked out?). When they asked him to go a little farther, he was at his limit. But then he just did it, pushing through obvious pain to reach about two more inches. And so on with the rope climb and speed kicks and other drills. Enduring pain to stretch his capacity.

I was proud of him. I might have cried a little in the dojo lobby.

He made the team.

Henry meanwhile, is doing great in soccer, so far as it goes at age five. They play three on three with no goalies and no throw ins. When a ball goes out, the ref just tosses another into the middle of the field. Henry's big advantage is that he never stops running yet never gets tired. Also, he just loves it. Sometimes he misses the ball because he is laughing so hard. Nothing "funny" has happened. It's just that playing soccer makes him laugh.

Unrelated to the sports theme, but funny, Maddie says to me today, "Dad, isn't it kind of weird that a naked baby would be a symbol of love?" It took me a moment to realize she was referring to cupid. Then I realized, yeah, that's totally weird.

Fathers and Sons

I took the boys camping with our church's "Fathers and Sons" activity. During a brief program at a large fire, the speaker concluded with the hope that kids will be able to bond with their dads. Caleb put his head on my shoulder and said, "Yeah, dad, we're bonding."

Later, just before going to bed, I hugged Henry and Caleb and told them how much I loved them. Henry looked up with a surprised expression. "Dad, I love you too," as though making an unexpected discovery.

So that was a good event for me. I hope they liked it too.

In the morning we raced back to Arlington and caught the end of Maddie's soccer game. Then we stopped by McDondalds on our way to Caleb's baseball game where Katie dropped me off with C while she went to Henry's soccer game. After which we raced home and got Maddie showered and changed and ran her over to a birthday party and then hurried to a park for Caleb to meet his friend. And then we thought, we could use a second car.

Jawbreaker

Caleb's torture apparatus is fully installed. We have been turning the crank two clicks every night for a week now. He grimaces, holds out is hands for a while in sort of a "calm-the-waters" gesture, and then says, "I'm good." Not a single complaint.

The day it was installed, he noted his new and distorted speech and commented to the orthodontist, "How will I make new friends talking like this?" The orthodontist teared up. Katie teared up. Guess who did not tear up? Caleb.

In his Caleb way, he asked more as an observation of a new problem to be solved than as an expression of self pity or a request for sympathy (though sometimes he plays that card masterfully to acquire new toys). And he has largely solved the problem. This may be correlation and not causation, but immediately he increased his time spent reading aloud, improving his speech to the point that the impediment is hardly noticeable.

I've always loved my kids. Then, as they got a little older, I liked them as well. Now they are giving me opportunities to genuinely admire them. Parenting is a cool gig.

Summer 2013 Photos: Disney World and Misc.

A little target practice at Merida's place.

Maddie likes the hotel room view of zebras, giraffes, and so forth.

Caleb conquered Everest

Captain Jack Sparrow grants Caleb a pirate diploma

Summer 2013 Photos: Camping and 4th of July

Redfish Lake

Floating Bed Garage

Special thanks to Krisy Wolle for lawn access during the parade!

4th of July in Idaho, therefore camels. Duh.

A Five Year Old Psyche

June

"We're going back to America for seven weeks."

"How can I go to kindergarten in Egypt if we go to America for seven years?"

July

"Is Idaho our new home."

August

"Can we go home."

"Well, we can't right now because of the evacuation. We don't know when we will be going back."

September

"It's the last day of summer vacation!"

"Yeah. We can finally go back to Egypt and see my, I mean our, cat."

"No, buddy, we have to stay here. We're going to school here."

"But how we will find each other?"

Saw VIII: The Orthodontist

The gym of the Amman Marriott has treadmills equipped with small television sets right in front of your face. They automatically turn on when you step on the treadmill. I've run on them approximately 84 times, but still can't figure out how to change the channel or even turn it off.

So one morning this past July, my most recent Jordan trip, I stepped on the treadmill and was presented the choice of running while watching a supremely distasteful horror gore bloodfest movie, or not running. My commitment to the run won the day, but at a high price. I don't watch horror films, ever. Hate them. This opinion was confirmed.

Fast forward to yesterday. Katie is explaining to me the details, with photos and charts, of what the orthodontist is planning to do to Caleb's mouth. It was like a flashback to the treadmill. I've seen this movie before!

We have to turn a crank every day that slowly splits his jaw in half. What kind of sadistic torture is this! Then they say, all casual like, "Bone and cartilage will eventually just fill in the gap we create in the roof of his mouth." Wait, what?

I've often wondered why these terrible movies even have a market. Now I know: Orthodontists.

Who Misses a Flight to Disney World?

We were on vacation anyway when the evacuation was announced. In fact, we were in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho and didn't even know of the "counter revolution" until three days after it happened.

We were in the midst of a typically Tim-Hart-overplanned summer fun extravaganza, mapped out in five minute increments for each of 18 days (I exaggerate only slightly). This meticulous and glorious detail included these ill-fated numerals: 0700 (yes, I plan in military time as it is way easier when up to 8 time zones are involved).

On the morning of our IDA to MCO (yes, I travel enough that I now think in airport codes, so to translate, that's Idaho Falls to Orlando) we were casually driving to the airport at 0600. As we neared the airport, Maddie said, "Cool, look at that plane taking off."

There just aren't that many flights out of Idaho Falls. It took about one second to realize this was bad. Suddenly the scales fell from my eyes and I saw clearly. I remembered the emails received one day prior: "Check in online now for your 6:00 am flight." Oops.

Funny (I use that word because otherwise I get too mad at myself) that writing 0700 on my master schedule created a confirmation bias so powerful that when I received that email, I understood it as "Check in by 6:00 am for your flight."

In any case, there remained the problem of not that many flights departing IDA. We couldn't get to MCO for two more days. Tears were shed. We began making alternative plans to just rent a car and drive to Disneyland that very day.

Ultimately, at the expense of time with Papa J (which had been scheduled to follow five days at Disney World), we were able to push back all Disney reservations two days to spend the same time there.

But seriously, who misses a flight to Disney World?