Kindergarten krush

One unappetizing vision.

   Well, it was bound to happen. My daughter and one of her classmates have professed their love for one another.
   He's 6, she's 5.
   It figures.
   I'm not sure how it all started but it appears he's captured her tender heart with vivid descriptions of a trip to Chuck E. Cheese's. I really didn't think I'd be having to deal with this so soon, but would I ever be ready?
  Daughter: Daddy, can we please go to Chuck E. Cheese's?
  Me: Well, we'll have to talk to mother about it.
  Daughter: Awww, do we have to?
  Me (emboldened by her slight deflation): Yes, I'm afraid so.
  You see my tender offspring has never been to the boisterous pasta bistro, and no doubt her 'boyfriend' has filled her head with visions of some sort of pizza-scented nirvana.
   Me (attempting to dampen her spirits a bit more): It's so loud there.
   Daughter (who has never been to such a place): No it isn't.
   And so it begins.
   In order to drown out the screeching and banging I imagine I'll have to load the iPod with Ozzy Osbourne, Hendrix and some Stones for the inevitable trip to the munchkin mecca.
   I somehow found myself inside an upChuck E. a couple of decades ago. I can't remember why or exactly where. All I do recall is that I wanted to get out as soon as possible. I don't even think the party I was with included any kids.
   What I do know is that this 'older fella' my precious girl is enamored with better keep his hands where I can see them or he might be finding it difficult to pick up his pizza.

La Dee Da, indeedy do do

Ingenuity trumps tramps.

   Our neighbor is a wonderful guy who has a great rapport with my daughter. He brought her a doll for Christmas, and maybe because the doll's 'story' claims she's "from New York City" (as is he) is what made him purchase the thing, but it's obvious he's never had a daughter or he'd never have given it as a present (I hope).
   Dee, the ringleader of the La Dee Da dolls, is manufactured by a group of grotesque profiteers called Spin Master.
   While 5-to-12-year-old girls are the stated target market, Dee (the persona) is said to be 16 years old. Charming.
   So, of course, a 16-year-old streetwise New Yorker is exactly the model teen-ager that 5-year-old girls need to emulate.
   Fortunately for my daughter (or maybe more so for me), Dee wasn't all that impressive in her "fashion-forward" outfit. So my munchkin fashioned her own togs with which to drape the toy trampette (note pic).
   I must say I was rather pleased. Though her mother and I rolled our eyes and cringed when the present was initially opened, our daughter — on her own — decided to 're-fashion' the toy.
   As for Dee and her La Dee Da friends, I found an online review of the toy line written with far too much detail. It would be humorous if it wasn't so pervy.
  Here's a bit:
   "Well, I got my hands on a few of the newest dolls from Spin Master. These girls have been causing a stir since they were displayed at the Toy Fair in New York last February. They are called "La Dee Da" dolls, named after Dee, who is the fashion-forward leader of the pack. The name of the line confuses me, though, because although it's catchy, don't people usually say, "well, la dee da" when they're being mocking and dismissive? Sometimes even "la dee frickin' da?" Are these dolls dissing me from inside the box?"
   Somehow, it doesn't sound like it was written by a female.
   Ick.

Art, yes; tattoos, oh no

Original typing by SKZ      Dec. 12, 2012

   One of the great and vastly understated joys of being a parent (of a 5 year old; I won't get ahead of myself) is sharing the creative experience all over again.
   Watching my daughter this past year takes me back to the time I was her age: a time of unbridled creativity.
   You take a song you've known for a couple of years triggered by a cartoon or visual stimulation, add characters that are handy (a stuffed toy, an empty paper towel core) and make up a story on the spot.
   All the synapses are firing because your mom is there, your dad is there, you are safe, secure, satiated; anything is imaginable because possibilities are endless. There is no death.
   There is only the joy of creating a story or drawing a picture that allows intuitive spontaneity to come gushing forth.
   What happens to a parent is an overwhelming connection to the child and reconnection with your childhood — joy begets more joy.
   No one who is not a parent will understand this.
   It is an amazing spiritual connection, a greater understanding of oneself through understanding the child.
   And then you think of how precious this gift is, how you want to nurture and protect it forever.
   I think of how I'll do everything in my power to shield her from tattoos, drugs, Paul McCartney lyrics, alcohol, bad boys, broken hearts and the Kardashians (pornographic profiteers, not Armenians).
   But she's going to live her own life and is (and has been) already making preferential decisions that shape her values and limits.

Going off the rails with pride

Thomas is quite a useful engine.

   I find it odd that a man of the cloth champions pride so much, yet such is the case of the Rev. W. Awdry.
   Awdry, a Church of England clergyman, has provided children around the world with his fictional series, Thomas the Tank Engine.
   My daughter can't get enough of Thomas and his many engine friends who grapple with moral dilemmas in ten-minute segments.
   A good engine is a useful engine is a theme visited and revisited, and that's all well and good. Thomas always tries his best to make everyone happy and goes to great lengths in this endeavor.
   One problem which often rears its head is stubbornness. It is another theme that Awry writes of with frequency, indicating that it is better to ask for help rather than end up in an intractable situation.
   In these stories it seems obvious that pride is an obstacle to success as one engine or another can't admit it needs help for fear of losing face. Pride is a problem.
   But very often Awry will also tout how proud a character is after a successful venture, a development which introduces conflict in a young mind searching for understanding of right and wrong.
   Pride is a slippery subject: one can be pleased with an effort or problem solved, but pride, as I know it, precedes the fall.
  Of this I know from experience.
   Now I'm not going to prevent my daughter from watching the show but I feel better when I watch it with her and discuss the lesson from each episode.
   Again, I've just found it a little vexing how a clergyman can talk of pride with such, dare I say, pride.

'Trick or cheese'

Prepping the Jack o' Lantern

   I remember being excited about Halloween, but without question it is my daughter's favorite holiday. She talks about it in April and May, asking if it's tomorrow or next week.
   Poor thing. It does seem a shame the 'holiday' celebration only lasts a month, and most witchy events are in the last week of October.
   This year she had two costumes and an outfit that could pass for another costume and I think it may snowball in the coming years. I can see that as she gets older that she'll aim for every Halloween event she can make. This year it was three costumed events and one non-costumed festival on the calendar.
   Tonight we reloaded on the trick or treat festivities: the first round was about an hour, the second half that. We needed a break as the stylish yet uncomfortable shoes necessitated a pit stop. (She's 5 yet even at 4 preferred fashion over functionality, how feminine. Go figure.)
   The initial outing included one flat-out fall on the sidewalk (I blame the shoes), but she was determined to soldier on (because saying 'she was determined to ladybug on' just doesn't sound right) and after a few tears and a massaged knee she blissfully took advantage of the "take as much as you like, sweetie" offer from the lady at the next house who had witnessed the sidewalk mishap.
   Interestingly enough, she's not clamoring to eat the candy.
   I think it's the thrill of getting dressed up and teasing some of the candy-givers with a high-pitched, "Trick or cheese" that is the most fulfilling part of it all.
   It's just such a treat for me to be able to experience her unbridled glee.

'I gotta have more cowbell'

Major League Baseball: Majorly kid-friendly.

   One of the greatest thrills of being a dad is taking your child to their first Major League Baseball game. Although we've lived outside Tampa for three years, I finally got to take my daughter to her first game last week.
   It was so much fun but not necessarily quite what I expected and, I guess, that's what made it so special.
   I'll always remember the first game I went to but I was twice the age of my 5-year-old and had actually played baseball and knew a good bit of how the game was played.
   My daughter, on the other hand, had little clue about what was going on and that was just fine.
   That's one of the great things about going to a game — you don't have to know the game to have a good time. There's ice cream and Cracker Jacks and hot dogs and soda. There's a batting cage where the young ones can hit the ball off a tee. At the stadium in St. Petersburg they have a large fish tank in center field where you can dip your hand in the water a 'pet' a sting ray (that have been neutered of their sting).
   One of the trademarks of the Tampa Bay Rays' fans is the cowbell. We bought one at a concession stand and my girl was ringing that thing through most of the game — as were the other kids at the park.
   But aside from the game and all it's friendly noise and distractions, the greatest joy is the bond that's created by spending precious time at a special place.
   You see, going to a baseball game isn't like going to a football or basketball game where you have to constantly be following the action.
   The action in baseball is a lot slower (okay, more methodical) and this allows time to talk about what's inside the stadium, how the game is played or making new friends with nearby fans.
   Should the home team wins is always a bonus: they did and it was.

Julius takes a swipe at Kitty

The latest distraction for kids.

    It was bound to happen, some marketeer to children could not afford anymore sleepless nights trying to purge his brain of Hello Kittty images.
   It appears artist Paul Frank has been enlisted to harness the boundless feline phenomenon from Japan.
   The creators of the puissant puss cleverly crafted the snuggly creature's backstory, claiming she was born in Britain.
   Nonetheless, Kitty was a stroke of genius by Sanrio and is a staple of little (and sometimes, not so little) girls; she is, after all, a pink-passionate stuffed animal.
   Julius, looking curiously Curious George-like, is a brown critter, seemingly aimed at boys as well as girls. Apparently Frank has other animal creations: Worry Bear, Scurvy, Clancy the Giraffe, Bunny Girl and Elly the Elephant.
   Now, McDonalds is helping Mr. Frank make even more millions from his accessorized art by plastering Julius on their Happy Meals.
   Interestingly, Sanrio has started to work out some of the pink from Hello Kitty and instead are using more black coloring.
   Perhaps Kitty's feelin the heat from this mouth-wide-open simian.