A Taste For Math

Not yet two years old, my son is a math whiz. Go ahead, try and stump him with some addition problems. Ask him what one plus one equals, or two plus two. Don’t be shy, bring the heat, try to stump him with something crazy, like a word problem.

For example, what is one New New plus one New New? Prepare to be amazed, because without a thought he will joyously shout, “Two New News!”

You may be wondering just what in the heck is a New New. It is what my son calls a Fig Newton--the current love of his little life at the moment. He wakes up calling for two New News in the middle of the night. He yearns for them at nap time. Or he may just randomly demand them when the urge strikes. I mean the kid really, really really likes Fig Newtons.

That being said, his standard answer to any and everything—Pie, e=, long division, square roots, world peace—is a couple of Fig Newtons. But it’s a great trick at parties. And by parties I mean visiting with grandparents. I guess it is an educational opportunity.

My wife the teacher, is so adept at using nearly anything as a learning opportunity. But the credit here goes to yours truly. My over feeding our child has lead to a great introduction to math. He really does know how many fingers make two. The problem here is that it won't be long before he realizes that what's better than two New News, is of course, three New News...

*The square root of 81 New News were consumed during the writing of this post

Big Hugs Man

Between the books and toys and the sing-along songs, it’s really easy to get stuck in kid world. Where trains can talk and the sun is singing. The day is filled with counting and colors and singing and of course....snuggles. Sometimes it's like living with Buddy the Elf, and after a weekend, my brain is usually cluttered with whatever happy little song is in rotation at the moment. So when I get to work and start humming, I don't exactly reek of testosterone.

But on New Year’s Day it was time to change all of that. It was time to get out and reconnect with my inner mountain man. I'd been cooped up for too long. I'd gotten soft.
 

So with the family safely tucked away at the ranch, napping or playing or otherwise just making fun of me, I set out to hunt and gather.

More gather I suppose. We’ve lived in our house for four years but only recently got around to having the fireplace inspected. Now we were fresh out of firewood. No problem.I gassed up my chainsaw, located my phone (I’m a little accident prone) and stepped out into the elements where I was all alone, foraging through the woods...behind my house.

I felt the survival instincts kicking in, I needed to keep my family warm. I mean yeah, we have heat and it was sunny and fifty outside, but I wasn't about to let that get in my way. There were no talking animals out here...only that bird....singing such a lovely song--dammit, I'm a man. A rugged beast of a man. Like Rocky when he went to train in Russia. Pretty much the same.
 

Getting down and dirty, I figured out the choke on that chainsaw and cut six or seven cords(?) of wood from a felled tree. But my wheelbarrow tire was flat so I had to haul them up the hill to the yard. No problem, I was like a caveman. A caveman who desperately needed chap stick. I lugged that wood to the backyard, yanked up my argyle socks, and then found my ax. But just as I went to take a swing I had to stop, as it finally dawned on me just exactly what song was stuck in my head...



 

 

 

Flash Fiction

Charlie over at Carrot Ranch hosts a weekly flash fiction challenge. This week's prompt is to write about a rare gem in 99 words, no more no less. Mine came to mind immediately:

My Magic Compass

I have this old compass. It’s dull and dented and the needle is stuck. On the back is a crinkled print of Indian Head Mountain, a fading sunset behind clouds hardly distinguishable from the peeling edges of the sticker.

To a collector it’s worthless, a trinket from a gift shop that found its way into my grandfather’s pocket. And yet, it works beautifully.

It navigates my own faded memory, back to when the needle aligned and the picture was clear. It points to those fuzzy moments etched in the wrinkles of my childhood. It’s magic, that compass, pure magic.

I Haven't Seen It....

“Have you seen _____?”

“Um, no."

“What about_____? “

“Nope."

“Well, you must have caught_______the other night?”

Our empty expressions give us away. Because we haven’t seen it. Not at the theater, online, or even on cable. And not because we're one of those elitist I don’t watch tv types, because we most definitely are not. I remember the good old days spent on the couch, watching episode after episode of Dexter or Weeds. Or eating dinner while watching Jeopardy together, pop in a dvd. We were a couple of maniacs, I’ll tell you.
 

It's just that there's no time.

Most parents can relate to the time dilemma. Some with a whole herd of kids might even laugh. But still, we like to get stuff done, projects and things around the house. And nap time is our only chance. We're like a Home Depot commercial. Ready, set go! (but go quietly). When that kid is napping, it’s time to break out the shovel. I got posts dug in the backyard during one nap, fencing put up during another. We can paint, fix, clean, even break out the tools without a knee high helper constantly shouting, “My turn?”. On a good day we get a couple of hours, but usually it’s more like 60-90 minutes, so make the most of it.

Not that we don’t include the kid in our activities. Trust me, we do. You should see this kid with a leaf blower. It’s just that every once and a while we need to do things without such help. And we can’t waste it on television. Recently our cable bill went up so we downgraded to the limited basic channels, which consists of the major networks plus fifteen church channels with scary people yelling at us and trying to sell $100 bibles and four Home Shopping networks.

And the weirdest thing is, I don’t really miss it, I mean really, I survived college football season without ESPN. Amazing. We also cancelled NetFlix maybe a year ago, putting us dangerously close to falling off the grid all together.

But there’s always prime time, after the kid is asleep, right? Well, maybe we’re doing something seriously wrong here, but when our kid hits the crib at 8, we’re not far behind. Sure, I could stay up and party, watch Dancing with the cows or How to get away with Involuntary Manslaughter, but I’d only be paying the price the next morning when he’s up at 6am, or even earlier. So nighttime tv is out as well.

And, as much as twenty something me would moan at the thought, but maybe those non tv snobs are on to something? I mean, without the television, I’ve found that music can be wonderful. We go through a range of stations on Pandora. Some nights it’s jazz, and my wife and I can pretend we’re at a fancy restaurant. Other nights we listen to a little Jack Johnson or maybe some Ben Harper. We’re going to hold off on the DMX for now, but everything else is on the table.

Now when I watch television I’m so annoyed by Title Loan commercials or blaring car dealership ads. I must have been immune. I can’t take it, I’d rather listen to my kid and my wife, and maybe a little jazz music. Oh dear God, what has happened to me?