Posts Tagged ‘conversations’

bossy girls

24 May 2011

This note from theVet:

So I dropped off figgy this morning and her friend S_____ told her (as she does every morning), “Now, say goodbye to Calcifer.”

Ms. Vanessa put some red plastic charts on the table and two other girls come up to inspect them. figgy tells them (in a very bossy tone), “Don’t touch! We don’t do that, right S_____?”

S_____’s like, “Yeah!”

It’s scary how alike they are. I think I’m going to start calling them the “bossy posse” 😉


Cousin Talk

19 October 2008

Dear J-

Mike:  So, you need to tell me more about this movie.

Field:  Well, that’s it.

MIke:  What happens after the living banana turns into a statue?

Field:  No, that’s it!  That’s the end.

We have both kids tonight; it’s amazing to think of the changes that happen over these first few years.  figgy’s cousin is a bare three years older and the independence is remarkable; from picking out her own clothes to charming us with her stories.  Today we went up on the tram to Mt. San Jacinto, and all I can think of is how useful a child under her own locomotion (I got to pack her around in a backpack) would be.

I know, these days are ending soon enough; it’s enough to relax and treasure the non-verbal clues she does feed us.  Yet there’s a few situations where it would be helpful to have her explain to us what’s going on, rather than having her fuss every ten minutes.  But is it really easier given the art of deception and excuses that follows verbal skills.


First Word

13 July 2008


Mike:  What d’you think her first word’s gonna be?

:  Probably “daddy” — she seems to love seeing you when you come home.

Mike:  Well, she spends a lot more time with you — I’d bet it’s “mommy.”

theVet:  We’ll see, I suppose.

* * * * *

[Now, walking]

figgy:  [excited, squeals]

Mike:  What is it?  Do you see the doggies?

figgy:  doggy!

theVet:  Her first word!

figgy:  doggy!doggy!doggy!

Mike:  [philosophically] Well, at least that’s one fight we won’t have to have.

Once again, the bellybutton

18 November 2006

Dear J-

I must have this deathly fear of being forgotten, since it seems like all I do lately is hide things around the house for people to find in the event of my demise (much like this correspondence, in fact). I put away a box of letters (daddy, what are letters? well, in the days before e-mail …) after flipping through and taking stock of where I sat in the grand scheme of things; by far, theVet has sent me the most, back when I had time to write, back when I had the ticket to write.

It pervades my life, this drive for quantity over quality. The shelves are groaning under the weight of obsolescent audio disc players (TDA1541 and CDM-2 seems to be the magic bullet for me). I’m throwing some game systems in the shed, having had no time to play anything but the latest and greatest, and even then only a few games. Man, this growing up and cleaning up is tough.

But of all the choices I’ve made — not keeping up with as many people as I’m willing to meet in this world has got to be the worst, most boneheaded one. Hi, how are you? Here I am. Let me write to you, talk to you, get to know you — and then disappear, ha ha! It’s mysterious, not knowing what happened, it means that anything could have taken place between now and then. It’s just another manifestation of Clark Kent-itis, isn’t it? As long as I can get people thinking about me, that means that I’m not nearly as invisible as I thought. And Clark, buddy, the glasses aren’t fooling anyone. How long do I think I can keep the charade moving along? Where do I see myself going with this, with life, with anything?

As I’ve said before, it’s an ordinary sort of goal in life, and yet I don’t want that forever, do I? Growing up, house in the city, couple of cars, some kids drawing on the walls, big screen TV, running water, vacuuming Saturday afternoons drinking with shoes off stereo hifi robe slippers dog by the fire vacations on Maui bikes on the beach sunsets sunrise spa pool trivia reality shows carpool asleep on the couch by nine …

There’s too many ways to numb ourselves to life, ways to pass the time. How much easier and uninteresting is it to spend the entire weekend indoors in a video-induced stupor without once bothering to shake your neighbor’s hand, visit family (why do we always wait for holidays as an excuse?), or call and reconnect? I’m not ready yet, I think. I keep trying to be a better man, and it’s not easy, never was.