On Anxiety Related to Fostering

My wife and I are NOW certified to be foster parents.  This is big.  Like, life-changing big.  Our plan is to foster two children (under the age of 4) with the intent of adopting them.  Since we, at present, have 3 children, we will soon have 66% more children!  That's a big change.  Granted, it's not first-born big (an infinitely large change), or even 2nd born big (100% ...), but it's bigger than 3rd born big!  (A measly 50% ... truthfully, for all those out there, having your 3rd child is a piece of cake compared to #1 and #2 ...)

Okay, so I'm running these numbers primarily to avoid talking about how I really feel about it.  Truth be told, it's very difficult to express how I feel.  On the one hand, we've been preparing and working towards this for a long time, dutifully making changes in our house, suffering through inspections and interviews, and attending classes (CPR yesterday, yay!).

On the other hand, this is a VERY big change we're making.  My wife and I have often stated that we're quite content with life as it is, with our children getting older and more capable of doing more grown-up things.  Now we're looking to (almost) hit the reset button on all that and again have very little people around.

My wife and I are also what we call "planning people".  No joke, we often sit down and compare our calendars out to six months or more, looking at every night to coordinate what's on our schedules.  This level of organization makes our lives run pretty smoothly, but now we're doing something that will remove a high-level of control from our lives.  Consider, for a moment, the following:

1. We don't know how many children we're getting.  We've said we'd like two, which means we might only get 1.
2. We don't know which sex they will be.  We've said we want at least one girl, which means we might get one girl, one boy, or one girl and one boy, or two girls.  Also, the girl might be older or the boy might be older, which will have its own implications.
3. We don't know what kind of background they will be coming from.  Clearly they will have been removed from their biological parents, which may have been the result of drug abuse, spouse abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, neglect, emotional abuse ... there's a long list of possibilities.  Whatever their background, they will be coming with a bit of history.
4. Their backgrounds will likely dictate the type of developmental challenges we will be faced with.  We've said we aren't willing to take any children that are handicapped or have severe disabilities (frankly, with 3 kids already, we simply can't volunteer for such a time-consuming challenge), but there's a whole spectrum of other more minor developmental challenges that they are likely to have.
5. We don't know what kind of interactions we will need to have with the children's biological parents during this process.  We could need to take the children to extensive visits to their parents several times a week, as directed by the judge in the case.  This would be exceptionally inconvenient and time-consuming.
6. We don't know how far along in the court process the children are.  If they have already been in the foster system, it is possible they are quite far along in the process, and their biological parents' rights may be terminated in the not too distant future ... or reinstated.  Either way, we're at the mercy of the court.

With all these uncertainties, how can we be expected to plan for all that?!  There's just no way.

But my wife and I have felt very strongly about this for a long time.  We've known in our hearts that our little family isn't quite complete, and we feel really good about this whole process.  It may be that we receive some children to care for and they end up being returned to their biological parents.  It may be that we receive some children and we eventually conclude that we aren't prepared to adopt them.  Or it may be that everything goes swimmingly ... who knows?

We do know, however, that whatever happens, we will have been able to help a few kids who desperately needed help.  Our hope is to keep them, but you never can tell.

So it is we are clearing our calendar and I've been making arrangements to take time off from work.  We've already cancelled our spring vacation (we were planning to go to Washington D.C. as a cap-stone for our two oldest children's school years, as they are both studying U.S. history this year).  We might go to the Grand Canyon, but there's just no knowing.  We'll see how it plays out.

The bottom line, though, is that I feel ...

...

At peace.

Tribe Names

My daughter was grouped with three other kids into a "tribe" and they are supposed to be making up their own rules and stuff as part of a project. Their tribe name? The "Awesome British Gummy-Bears of Doom". I'd totally join that tribe!

Tick-Tock

I was bringing my youngest son, who is 5, home from karate practice yesterday when I heard his little voice call from the back of the car, "Daddy, why are there tick-tocks in the front and the back?"

Uh, okay. First, I hadn't the faintest idea what a "tick-tock" was, and second, the front and the back of what?!

So, I replied most eloquently, "What?!"

He repeated his question, to which I replied even more eloquently, "Huh?!"

Then he said, "You know, on cars. Why do they have tick-tocks in the front and the back?"

At this point, realization dawned on me that he was asking about the turn signals, otherwise called "blinkers". (Understanding 5-Year-Old = Awesome Dad Moment.)

Thereafter ensued a discussion about how turn signals are put on the back of cars so that people who are behind them can see where the cars are going, and how turn signals are on the front so that people in front of or beside them know similarly. I'm not sure he got it, even though he said he did.

After I had this discussion with him, I was amused, but also fairly sad. Now that I'd informed him what they're really called, I'll probably never hear his cute little voice utter "tick-tock" in the same context again. The term "tick-tock" is sooo much more adorable than what they're really called, and so much more poetic. Such a pity.

Hmm, makes me wonder what other adorable sayings I've completely wrecked in my children's youth, all in the name of precision.

You Can't Go To Bed, Yet!

I had just finished reading with my youngest son tonight (Little Bear, with him reading about 55% of it to me!) and yawned. I told him I was a little tired, so I told him I was thinking about going to bed. He looked aghast and told me that I couldn't do that.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because Mom isn't going to bed," he answered.

"You mean I can't go to bed without Mom?" I asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because Mom stays up late," he proclaimed.

I giggled a little at this, and then asked him if I could go to bed early if Mom went to bed early, too.

"No," he said. "You have to stay up!"

"Why?" I wondered.

"That's just the rule."

"It is?"

"Yes!" he proclaimed.

So, there you have it. Moms have to stay up late, and Dads can't go to bed early without them. That's the rule straight from a 5-year-old.

My Daughter The Science Geek

My daughter is a very bright little girl (no exaggeration), but it is hard to find real world things that interest her. She's a book worm and can get so caught up into the worlds she is reading about that sometimes she can get a little disconnected with things in the world around her. However, my wife and I strongly encourage our children to participate in the yearly science fair at their school, even though it is often difficult to nail down exactly what they should do. My oldest son last year, for example, did an awesome job on his science project on rockets, and we honestly believe he didn't win 1st place because it looked too professional, as if a grown-up had done it for him.

This year, my daughter did her project on the weather. Specifically, she did it on how meteorologists determine the weather. She made a homemade barometer and took near-daily readings. We happened to be blessed with some sporadic weather during this period, with rain and hot cycles happening every few days. It was really neat to watch her make the connection between temperature and pressure and rain. As it is, she took dozens of pictures of clouds in our valley and worked very hard to identify the different formations -- some I had never heard of!

All her hard work paid off, too. She took second place! Just look at this cutie!

What an awesome accomplishment. I am so proud of her!

How to Make a Child Happy

Build their favorite cartoon character out of Legos for them. It seems I never get enough quality time with any of my children, but I'll tell you, the half hour I spent doing this with him today was the best I've spent in a long time. And boy is he happy!

Giggly Boy

My youngest son is turning five pretty soon, and he's pretty precocious in all the right ways. He's not overtly destructive and is a true delight in our lives. Today I was sitting in "the big chair" in our family room, laptop on my lap, my eyes furrowed as I concentrated on a presentation that I was working on for a conference, when he mischievously came over beside me and climbed up onto the armrest of the chair.

Totally absorbed by what I was doing, I didn't really pay much attention, as he regularly comes over in this manner to see what I'm doing on the laptop. Well, much to my surprise, he leaned over as if to give me a kiss on the cheek and then started giggling. He pulled back, giggled some more, then leaned in again for another "kiss." He couldn't do it. By this time he had my full attention, and my presentation had to wait until I could figure out what he was doing.

I asked him what was going on, and he couldn't even answer me because he was giggling so hard. I thought maybe it had something to do with the fact that my face was somewhat scruffy, not having shaved since Sunday morning. But that wasn't it. It took me about thirty seconds more to divine that he was trying to give me a "zerbert" on my cheek, a skill he learned a few months ago.

At that point, I started giggling, too, which just made him giggle even more! He went in several times, even at my encouragement, but couldn't stop giggling long enough to actually zerbert me. While me and my little man were laughing really hard, my wife was wondering what was happening and I couldn't answer her very well. Finally, he composed himself just long enough to actually accomplish his task, which made him very happy and my cheek very slobbery. After that, he slipped off the arm of the chair and ran away.

It took me about five minutes to get focused back on my work. Very funny.

Children are truly a joy.

Glad to Have My Problems

My two oldest children are book worms. My third child can't read, yet, but he seems interested and is likely to be just as able ...

My daughter, in particular, has been excessively interested lately in ignoring every aspect of life except reading. She loves serialized novels. She has absorbed the Harry Potter Books, the Percy Jackson books, and several other series, and is now in the middle of the Charlie Bones books.

Did I mention that my daughter is 8?

At the parent/teacher conference that my wife and I attended on Friday, our daughter's teacher had a list of the words per minute that each child in her class can read, sans names, and asked us which one we thought represented our daughter. We would have been surprised if she wasn't the top reader in the class, and we were not at all surprised to have that confirmed. The top number? 185 words per minute, a full 40 words per minute faster than the next kid.

Lately, we have been limiting her to 90 minutes of reading each day, which she thinks is just the most horrible thing in the world. She keeps track of her reading minutes because they get credit for it at her elementary school, earning awards and other forms of recognition. However, she does not read because of this, but rather because she has a tremendously active imagination and enjoys getting "sucked" into the worlds that she reads about in her novels.

So, tonight I went to put her to bed and noted that she had read over 3 1/2 hours today. Being Sunday, that didn't surprise me, but it clearly exceeded her 90 minute allocation. I told her I was taking her book away for the night, as I didn't want her staying up and reading after she was supposed to go to bed. Staying up doesn't do well for her because then she's grumpy the next day and doesn't focus well on her school work.

Well, an hour later my youngest child got up crying for some reason (he had to go to the bathroom and was too tired to realize it), and I discovered my daughter very alert and awake, trying to help her brother. Why was she up? It definitely wasn't because her younger brother woke her up -- that girl can sleep through a train wreck. At this point, you should easily be able to guess. Of course, she was reading.

I was not very happy. I knew for a fact that she hadn't retrieved the book I had taken from her, so I was somewhat miffed to find out that she had simply got out of bed and indiscriminately grabbed some book off her bookshelf in her room. I was more unhappy about her blatant disobedience (I had clearly told her earlier that she was to stop reading and to go to sleep) than the fact she was reading.

Clearly caught in the act, the punishment had to fit the crime. She would not be allowed to read the next day. I figured this was quite fair, as she had already read 4 1/2 (!) hours today. Even so, you would have thought I had threatened to pull her teeth out the next day. Her eyes got big, she hunkered down in bed, and she started to whimper.

No amount of reasoning with her would satisfy her. Her mean ol' dad took away her reading privileges! It was only after I placed conditions on her so that she could "earn" back her reading privileges that she calmed down: she must get out of bed in the morning without a fuss, she must be cooperative and cheerful, and she must get her homework done after school without a fight. If she does these things, then she will be allowed to read before she goes to bed, as is traditional.

It's an interesting problem. Honestly, how many kids do you know that are like this anymore? If you replaced the word "reading" with "playing on her DS" throughout this post, then this would be a far more contemporary experience, but in today's world it's just downright weird.

But, you know, I realize how blessed my little family is to have "problems" like this. You know the old expression? "If everybody got together and threw their problems up in the air, after seeing everybody else's we'd all scramble to get back our own?" Well, I wouldn't even throw mine -- I think I'll just keep 'em, thank you very much.

Important Questions

"Why did God make bees and honey ... and peanut butter ... and not make us with four arms?" My youngest son asked this of me last week during church. Great questions, all!

My Job Description

My daughter had an assignment in her third grade glass a week ago, which reads:

Pretend that you are going to write a report. First, write the topic of your report. Then, write three things you would say about the topic.

The results? Check it out (spelling is hers):

Topic: My dad's job.
a. My dad works at JPL.
b. He controls the space craft in space.
c. They are cercing for Aliens.

I love it! According to this, I control an armada of spacecraft in an attempt to hunt down alien life forms. Awesome. Technically, I don't think you could say she is wrong, but I never really appreciated that I'm an alien hunter ...

(By the way, I find her spelling of "cercing" to be very interesting; you have to love the flexibility of the English language. I am also impressed that she knew to call the vehicles in space "space craft". She didn't know it was one word, but she knows not to call them "spaceships", which connotes a space vehicle that carries people.)

4!

My little man is 4. My third-born child is 4. He's 4. He really is 4. He has 5 fingers on each not-so-little hand and he holds 4 of them up and tells me how old he is ... 4. 4! I'm amazed, astounded, beside myself, and redundantly repetitive.

But, wow, he's gotten so big. Our lives haven't worked out quite the way we planned it, as we actually intended to have another child a few years ago. So, here we are with "just" the three kids, and our youngest is 4. 4! (Sorry, I kind of have to repeat it as it isn't sitting too well.) Our little baby, no longer is. He's a walkin', talkin', mess-makin' machine who is fully self-willed. He can argue with us, lie to us (though he doesn't, really), and fight with his siblings (which he does with gusto -- that kid can hold his own).

He is extraordinary and we feel very blessed to have him. Sometimes we wonder how he can possibly be related to his two stinker siblings. We know he is, though, because, well, I was there when he popped out of the same mom as the other two.

He is so good-natured. that he surprises us all the time. He says "thank you" for his dinner, even when he doesn't want to eat it. He says "please" for things right before he takes it from you.

He is the happiest little guy that I've ever seen. He giggles at the drop of a hat (or the approach of a ticklish finger) and just loves to play pretty much anything. He always wants me to come and sit with him in the play-room, and while he hasn't really learned how to play with people, he certainly does want you in close proximity. He's awesome. And I totally love that he still fits so nicely on my lap and wants me to read to him all the time.

Yesterday for his birthday, I took off work and we had a fun day together. We took him to the park where we had a "birthday play date" with a bunch of his friends from the ward. It was strictly low-key, and my wife made cupcakes to give to everybody.

It was windy and cold, but we still stayed there for two hours (and I got sunburned). He had a great time, and I must have pushed him on the swing for fifteen minutes towards the end with him giggling the whole time. Granted, I had my "claw" out ready to tickle him every time he came forward, but still ... he's so awesome!

Afterwards, he wanted to go to "Old McDonalds", so we did and he downed his chicken nuggets and fries (can you believe kids meals are, like, $4.50 these days?!). Then we did a bit of shopping together, just he and my wife and I. It was quite fun. Afterwards, we retrieved his sister from school, then an hour later his brother, and we stayed home that evening just enjoying each other's company. He wanted pizza for dinner, so that's what my wife made for him, and after opening gifts it was all toys all the time. One thing he really wanted was a "Woo Hoo" train, from "GeoTrax" fame. Why "Woo Hoo"? I have no idea, but that's what he wanted, and he was absolutely ecstatic to get it.

Finally, at the end of the day, he was exhausted, but happy, and went to bed with a smile on his face.

It was a great birthday, and I was happy to have been able to take the day off from work to be with him. I like to be there for all my kids, but if he does end up being our very last child, I definitely want to make sure I don't miss anything. He is worth every second I can spend with him.

Something

Tonight, I heard my youngest upstairs getting into something. I ask, "What are you doing?"

His reply? "Nothing."

Now, my son is three, and he's never said that before. I expect that kind of ambiguity from my nine-year-old, not my three-year-old, so I say, "That's not true. You must be doing something. What are you doing?"

"Something."

I couldn't help but laugh.

So, what was he doing? He was playing with his sisters toys, which he knows she gets grumpy about. Since she was in the shower, he could get into them without her knowledge, and since both me and his mom were downstairs, it seemed clear he could get away with it. Ah, the lessons each child learns ...

Deep Thoughts of a 7-Year-Old

The other night, I was tucking my daughter in to bed and she asked me some surprisingly deep questions. Since I don't remember the conversation exactly, I'll paraphrase as best I can.

First, she asked me, "Daddy? Why do we have to be tempted by swearing, and tattoos, and being mean to each other? It's so hard!"

Now, don't get the impression that my daughter wants to rush out and live the sailor life, as this is far from her nature, but rather it is indicative that she seems to want to live a very good life, away from these problems.

I sat down next to her and asked her a few questions about life as we know it. Do we lack for food? Or clothing? Or a place to live? Do we worry about people coming to our house and dragging us into the street to hurt us? Are we (personally) at war with people and worry about our lives day to day?

Clearly her answers to each of these was in the negative, and I reminded her that it didn't always used to be this way, that there once was a time when people did have to worry about each of these things, and that we are very blessed not to. Then I explained to her that even so, we should be grateful for some of the challenges we still have in life. I reminded her that if we did not know sadness, we wouldn't truly appreciate happiness. If we didn't ever have pain, we would not know how wonderful it is to be pain free. And, finally, if we did not have temptations, we would not have freedom to choose.

I don't know if she got it, but she seemed content. But as I got up to go, she then asked me a stunner question ...

"Daddy, can I ask you the hardest question I can think of?"

"Sure," I said with a sigh, believing that she was just delaying going to sleep.

"How did God get to be God?" she asked.

Well, I just had to turn around and go sit down again. This was one of the best questions I think I've ever heard. I turned it around on her, and asked, "Who is God to us?"

"He's our Father in Heaven," she quickly answered.

"So who are we to Him?"

"His children."

"So if he is our Father, what does that say about Him?" I asked.

She pondered for a moment and then it was clear that realization struck her. I could see it in her face, but she didn't know how to express it. I prodded her a little by asking, "If he is our Father, and we can grow up to be like Him, then doesn't it make sense that once upon a time, he used to be a son?"

She got a big smile and then came to one of the two next obvious conclusions by proclaiming, "So that means that someday we can have our own kids and be in charge of our own world!"

I smiled, and reminded her that our Father in Heaven does indeed want us to grow up to be like Him. I then tied that in to her earlier question about why we are tempted, and told her that Heavenly Father wants us to make good choices so that we can go back to live with Him again.

She was happy with these discussions, and I finally got up and was able to leave the room.

Here you'd think I'd be done with this post.

But then the day after, it was clear she was still thinking about this topic. She said, "Daddy, do you remember what we talked about last night?"

"Yes," I said.

"So if God was once a son of somebody else, and he was the son of somebody else, where did it all start?"

A smile crept across my face, and I was reminded of a conversation I had had with my wife years ago on this very topic, one where my wife went all wild-eyed and got a headache thinking about it. Frankly, to most of us poor puny humans, the reality is that things go on forever – in both directions in time or whatever the eternal equivalent of time is. This is something we have difficulty grasping.

I didn’t know how to communicate this to my daughter, but I tried, with, "It didn’t start anywhere. It just keeps going forever, just as we will keep having kids forever."

Then she surprised me again, with a most grown up response. "Well, when I die, I’m going to ask Him about it."

This made me laugh, as it is a most grown up thing to say. I said, "You do that." Then I told her to please not be in a hurry to do that, as I want her here with me, and she said she wasn’t, but she was going to remember the question.

It's a very good question.

The Dog House

My oldest son slammed his door shut on me, which he knows I really don't like. I spent 10 seconds glaring at him with a red face then walked away shaking my head (no shouting! wa hoo!). My youngest son was in the bathroom and he asked me what was wrong.

"Nothing. Your brother's in the dog house, that's all."

"What dog house?" he asks.

"Not an actual dog house. He's just in trouble."

"What kind of dog house?" he persists.

"Its not a real dog house!" I say. "It means he's in trouble."

"Oh," he says, clearly not understanding.

You know, we really do have a lot of strange expressions in the English language. It's amazing that any child learns to speak ... a miracle of the finest sort. Kids are awesome.

My Car Fanatic

My youngest son is a car fanatic. He always has been. Ever since he was little(r), he's been obsessed with anything with wheels. This includes trains, airplanes, space shuttles, wheelbarrows, and, yes, even wheelchairs. There's just something about the fact that it turns and it moves that absolutely fascinates him. During church, we can give him a toy car and he's delighted for the whole hour. It's amazing.

Well, yesterday, of course, was the Big Day in the racing world. The Daytona 500 was on, and while my family is not exactly full of NASCAR fans (okay, we're not really fans of any kind of sport), I remember as a kid that my own father would regularly put on the auto races on Sunday afternoons. In hindsight, I don't remember him actually watching it with me, but I remember watching it and loving every minute of it. Sitting at the foot of my parents bed with a bowl of popcorn watching the cars go round and round was fascinating. I don't even remember anybody else watching it with me, so maybe they actually left the house and it was just cheap babysitting ...

Anyway, so yesterday after church I turned on the race after lunch was on the table. My youngest, of course, was immediately sucked in. He literally jumped off his chair, went over the television, and stood about four feet away from the big screen TV. His jaw slack, his arms limp at his sides, he was completely absorbed in what was on the screen. I reminded him to come back and eat his lunch (pizza, for Pete's sake!), and he would come back to the table, get in his chair, and then get off his chair and return to the television, all without his eyes leaving it. I'm not even sure he blinked. This happened several times before I finally moved his plate to a place where he could still see the TV, moved all obstructions, and literally put his hand on the pizza so he would know it was there. It was hilarious.

The race ended prematurely due to rain, so it was sort of a let-down in that regards, but there were many accidents (nobody was hurt, thankfully) which always spices things up. The kids loved it. They watched every minute of the race, and my oldest even commented on how it was so strange that the commercials were all related to racing in one way or another (gee, imagine that!). It was a good time. I think this will become a new yearly tradition.

What's in a Name?

My daughter is a silly little almost-seven-year-old. The other day, she came home and told me that she doesn't like her name. After very, very much discussion, I finally learned that she doesn't like her name because ... wait for it ... because she doesn't think she can hear very well. Huh!?

She's complaining that her hearing isn't very good because she can't hear what other people are whispering about, and can't read lips. I tried to tell her that when other people are whispering to each other, they don't want her hearing what they have to say, and that there are very few people in the world who are good at reading lips, but there's no convincing her.

I believe that she hears just fine, but most of the time she doesn't listen very well. There is a fine distinction there, that's for sure, but again, there's no convincing her. She is a very obstinate little girl, who has turned into a book worm of the best (worst?) kind -- a focused and determined reader who can ignore everything happening around her. We'll probably end up taking her to the doctor and have her hearing formally checked before she'll even consider the fact that her hearing is fine. Even then, she may not believe us, because she's still convinced she can't see well, despite passing with flying colors the vision tests they just did at school.

Anyway, so back to the name thing. She's been complaining that she wants a different name. We told her that when she's 18, she can pay the thousands of dollars it takes to make a legal name change. She didn't like that idea very much.

When I started one particular conversation, I flippantly said we could call her "Rose" because she's pretty, smells good (most of the time), but can be all prickly, too. To my astonishment, she loved the idea, and now she keeps complaining that we don't call her Rose. This name is unacceptable for a variety of reasons, but secondarily because I have another relative very close to me with that name.

Primarily, however, the name is unacceptable because it isn't what her mother and I named her. We gave her the name she has for a very good reason, and we love it. It is a cute name with a cute name-fragment that we call her most of the time. It matches her perfectly, and we have absolutely no intention of abandoning it on some youthful whim.

Even so, my wife and I have been having some interesting conversations with her. We spent some time talking with her about how names don't really matter, and I related a story to her that I had once read about a man who named one of his sons "Winner" and a different son "Loser", wondering if their names would define their person. As it turned out, things were exactly opposite in the long-run: Winner went to jail, and Loser was quite successful in life. This conversation mellowed her a little bit.

We even looked up what her name meant, and it turns out that her name is a diminutive form of a name that means "Pearl". Strangely enough, though we didn't know it, it turns out that with this meaning my daughter is named for one of her great-grandmothers (which makes her name just as good as her older brother's, which is from one of his great-grandfathers). When I shared this with her, she got contemplative.

During this last day, she hasn't been asking too much about it. My wife and I have pretty much decided to ignore any future pleadings to call her something else. We won't even entertain the conversation because it just upsets her; we will instead change the subject when it comes up. After all, she's got a perfectly good name which we love, and, well, we are her parents and that's what we call her.

Once I suggested that we should call her Malfooney Bibblesnap. She didn't like that at all.

...

So this post doesn't make much sense. On the one hand, I'm telling her that her name doesn't matter, but on the other hand I'm telling her that her name is important. So, whatever. It's late at night and I'm tired.

Bottom line, the most important name is her last name. I would that she would respect it, and set a good example so that people would always associate the family name with honor and reverence. I once started telling her about this, but it soon became apparent that she is just too young to comprehend that principle -- or at least was not in a fit frame of mind to comprehend it. Many phrases come to mind, such as "Remember who you are!" and "What are you doing with my name?" Useless to an almost-seven-year-old

It's a phase. It will pass.

Dodger Night

Every year, there's a "Mormon Night" at Dodger Stadium. They usually have tickets available through the church for a "discounted" price (this year was $11 a seat) to sit in the outfield and watch the game. We've gone in the past, but, just as it was this year, the games are always in the evening and it's typically too late for us to take the kids. This year, however, my two older kids are finally old enough, we felt, to sit through it that late at night. Truth be told, we probably could've done it sooner, but, hey, we're not exactly huge baseball fans.

Nevertheless, I took the two oldest children and we drove to Dodger Stadium just after dinner. Earlier in the day, we had them watch "How to Play Baseball" -- a Goofy movie from 1942. Armed with their newly gained knowledge, I also educated them on the drive. By the time they got there, they knew the various ways that one can get "out", the names of the bases, and how many players are on the field at any time. They loved the concept of "stealing" a base. They still couldn't name the player's positions, but that's all right -- they could at least follow the game.

So we got there, and, well, just watch the video to find out what my daughter thought about it ...


Leaving the game, however, I asked her how she liked it, expecting her to say she was bored (since she sprawled on the bench about half the game and regularly complained about how far away the play was), but she surprised me with an emphatic, "I loved it!" I asked her why she loved it, and she told me that after I bought her the insanely overpriced hot dog ($5 for the World ... Famous ... Dodger ... Dog!), she "just started watching and I realized it was fun!"

I was shocked, but pleased. Previously, she was devastated when she found out that we weren't actually going to be playing the game, but just watching the game. We won't be buying season tickets, but I'm grateful that she learned that it can be fun to be a spectator. In fact, it was really cute to see her holding up our little cushions that we took with us that has the Dodger logo printed on it, and cheering for the team. Unfortunately, the Dodgers lost 2-1 to the Diamondbacks, but it was still a great experience. Being the first baseball game they will remember that they attended in person, I'm grateful that it went well and that they eventually learned to enjoy themselves and the atmosphere.

P.S. I'm glad that we actually made it to the game because I managed to misplace the tickets to the game for weeks and actually only located them the day before. I was so happy because that's a lot of money to spend only to lose the tickets, plus I was really looking forward to the game!

A Moment of Unexpected Gratitude

My three-year-old youngest son is still learning to speak clearly. Tonight I had my entire family in the car and we were driving down the road parallel to a train track. My youngest son absolutely loves trains, and he always yells excitedly, "Chain Twak! Chain Twak!"

Tonight, I corrected him and said, "It's ter-ain ter-ack, ter-ain ter-ack." I hoped that enunciating the "t" and "r" sounds together would help him pronounce it clearly. Much to my surprise, he attempted it a few times, then finally spoke it correctly! "Train track!"

Then, he surprised me even more and he said, "That's much better, Daddy. Thank you!" I was floored, pleased, proud, and filled with a whole pile of positive emotions. What a great kid! Imagine, a 3-year-old that is polite! I'm sure it won't last, but I'll take it while I can!

3-Year-Old Mimic and Virus Update

I was sitting in church on Sunday with my two boys -- my wife having stayed home with my sick daughter -- and was listening to the people who were speaking. My youngest was sitting next to me, restless, as usual, and playing quietly with his toy cars. Suddenly, I feel him sit up next to me and I look down at him and see him moving his legs really funny, crossing his ankles one way then the other. It took me a few seconds to figure out that he was trying to cross his legs like I had my legs crossed. It was quite funny.

Later, when it came time to sing, he joined in with me and my older son, even though he didn't know the words. That was all right with him, though, as he just made them up as he went along. They usually went something like, "I ... love ... Thomas ..." This was a little chant his sister had taught him earlier, and he had adapted it for singing in church. It was so funny I couldn't help but giggle at him.

Later, when one of the speakers was talking, he stopped, looked at me really soberly, and said, "Dad, I love Thomas, and Percy, and James, and Annabel ... and Toby!" If you are a parent with kids younger than 10, you probably know that these are trains from the "Thomas the Tank Engine" media/toy empire. He was just so cute when he said it, though, that I can forgive the clear and obvious brain-washing the kid has had.

Cute kid!

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It took 6 hours to get my laptop fixed yesterday. Well, I think it's fixed. This morning another "trojan" showed up, but this time I think the anti-virus software got it. Most of the time yesterday was spent running a virus scan on the over 600,000 files on my computer, and turning up nothing. Luckily, I remembered the name of the virus, and the tech guy was able to come up with a specialized tool for removing that particular virus, and it worked fine. That one was called "vundo" and the one that showed up this morning is called "pandex". Crazy stuff. Hope this latest one really has been cleaned up!

Illness in the Family

My daughter is sick right now. She's somewhat diarrhetic and has headaches, a fever, a sore throat, and general weariness. She ended up staying home from church today (with my wife) and though she "sounds" fine, it's clear she's not up to snuff. Having a sick child is never fun.

Okay, now my confession. My daughter is sick, but I am far more concerned about my laptop. There, I said it. *phew* I know she'll get better, and seems to be on the mend even as I type, but my computer, on the other hand ...

It's got a virus. I think. A few days ago, I was downloading some software for my handheld and I believe said software was bundled with a "trojan" virus called "vundo". My virus protection software found it and attempted to clean it, but it doesn't seem like it succeeded, as symptoms were still present: slowness of response, occasional pop-up ads with no source for (ironically) virus protection software, and refusal to access any yahoo or google domains (such as this here blog).

So, I went online and tried to find out how to deal with it. I found from my virus protection software company a procedure for "manually" removing the virus, which seemed approachable and straightforward. The first step was to reboot my computer into "safemode". So, I used happy-go-lucky "msconfig" to set my boot.ini to include the /safemode:minimal flag, and then went to restart my computer.

Here's where things got miserable for me. Beforehand, with the virus, I could still operate my computer, though with the above-mentioned issues. When I set it to reboot into safemode, suddenly my password no longer works! I can't even log in anymore! And since I can't log in, I can't return to a "normal" boot sequence. My laptop is a work laptop; I don't even have the "admin" password, so I went online looking for a procedure to circumvent the password and after several hours of trying and failing, my laptop remains worse than useless right now.

So what will I do? I will have to wait until work tomorrow morning where I will call the "help line", where I will have to schedule an appointment many hours in the future for a tech guy to show up in my cubicle, where I will have to wait for him to access the computer (hopefully the "admin" password still works!), reset the boot sequence for me, and clean it of the virus, all the while glaring at me as if I'm some great on-line sinner who invited this calamity by being addicted to child pornography.

I don't really have time for that, and I have to get home early tomorrow, so I don't really know how this is going to work. My laptop really is the focal-point of my entire computer-centered existence. It is my livelihood as far as work is concerned. It has all my genealogy on it. It has my church calling stuff on it. I've got the (few) computer games I play on it. And it is my window to the outside world via the internet. So the fact that it is unusable right now is greatly distressing. I just hope it can be resolved quickly.

Luckily, I do regular backups of the entire hard-drive, so if the computer can not be fixed (which isn't very likely), at least I've got the data from a few weeks back. It would hurt, but it wouldn't be a killer.

As for right now, I'm blogging on my home computer, which remains, gratefully, fully functional. I just can't do any of that other stuff on it ...