I overheard my four year old singing these words

Our God is awesome God
he prays! from heaven over
wisdom power... uh.... God
God is awesome God

She's pretty cute!

This is the animal my 4 year old and I saw on the walk to school today

There was a light fog, and we saw this deer trotting along the road ahead of us. It looked like he was favoring his back right leg.

M was on my shoulders, so we stopped to look and I took this picture. I'm sure we looked like a terrifying two-headed monster and if the deer had a camera he probably would snapped a pic, too.

I said, "We must have scared him."

M: I don't think we scared him. It's probably all the Halloween decorations.

A good point from the four year old.

As we passed by him and headed toward the school he started huffing and trotting toward us. I started to think he might come after us. I figured I could get M into a nearby tree in time if he started to charge. But I really didn't want to fight him, because ever since my antlers fell off I've been afraid to fight deer anymore.

Anyway, I dropped M off at school and came out to find him waiting on the road. As I walked closer, he ran between two houses, jumped the chain link fence between them and disappeared. Yes, he jumped the chain link fence. He's an urban deer, I guess.

Do kids get reality and imagination confused? My 4 year old's contribution to the debate.

Put them together: MONKEY PANCAKES!

Last week I took my 4 year old, M, to the park to enjoy the last rays of the dying Northwest sun before it disappears forever leaving us in the unending gray of clammy Sister Winter.

I was helping her across the monkey bars, where of course, she was pretending to be a monkey. Every time she fell off I would say, "Oops, you fell in the lava" and take her back to the beginning. After a few tries I guess she got tired of that.

She looked me in the eye and said, "Don't pretend it's lava any more."

"Okay," I said.

She said, "Don't pretend it's water, either."

I said fine. But what should I pretend it is?

"Pretend it's a sidewalk," she said, an exercise I found relatively simple because it was, in fact, a sidewalk.

Later I was telling her to pretend to be a pancake. They do this in swimming class, where she puts her head on her coach's shoulder and spreads her body out flat while floating on her back. "Pretend to be a pancake," I said.

She put her head on my shoulder and said, "Just don't put me on the grill, because then I'll get lots of burns and need some band-aids."

Some thoughts on eyeballs and parties from my 4 year old

M: Daddy, if my eyeballs fell out, and there was a party, I would still go to the party.

Me: Oh yeah?

M: Yes. And all the people would say, ew, your eyeballs fell out, get out of this party!

Me: And what would you do?

M: I'm not going to leave a party just because my eyeballs fell out. I would just stay at the party.

My 4 year old shares some thoughts on racism

My four year old, M, got the Little People Disney Princesses you see on the left for her birthday.

She immediately said that she did not like the one on the right because she's "ugly."

Concerned, my wife and I both told her multiple times, no, she's really pretty. You should still play with her. She was adamant. She would not be playing with that particular toy.

I decided to get to the bottom of it.

Me: Why do you think she's ugly?

M: Because of her color. She's ugly.

Me: But we have lots of friends who look like that.

M: I don't think so.

Me: What don't you like about her color? Why don't you like it?

M: I don't like green. I don't like green dresses.

Me: Oh.

I'm pretty sure this is the cutest turtle of all time

Ta-da!

My three year old is really hilarious. This is what it looks like when she does push ups.

This morning I wrote that my daughter was making me laugh so hard that I couldn't do any push ups. Some of you were skeptical that the issue in my inability to do pushups was really my daughter.

So, I took a video of her doing push ups to show you. I defy you to do push ups while a three year old does this six inches from your face:

Now you have to believe me. I can actually do push ups. And my daughter is hilarious.

My three year old has an Easter Dance for you

Here's my three year old, who asked me to come outside so she could show me this dance. Stick around for the end, where she reveals why she celebrates Easter.



You're probably wishing to have Easter updates on my other children, too, but I don't have any yet, so here's a post about them from two years ago.

What are you up to today? Celebrating Easter? Not celebrating Easter? Waiting for real Easter on May 5th?

What was that sound? I'll tell you what that sound was.

At night, before my three year old (M) falls asleep, she often says something charming while she's tucked in and drifting off. 

M: What was that sound?

Me: It was the bed creaking.

M: No. It wasn't the bed creaking. It was a frog outside in the pond on a lilypad.

Me: Oh.

How Sesame Street is Undermining Biblical Values

I was surprised to see last week's article by Owen Strachan talking about an episode of Sesame Street in which Baby Bear (who is male) plays with a baby doll. Telly the monster tells Baby Bear this is dumb, but resident wise sage Gordon tells him it's okay. Like this:

Baby Bear: It’s a doll 
Gordon: So?!
Baby Bear: So…Gordon…I’m a boy, and dolls are for girls!
Gordon: Says who?

Strachan explains that this is the undermining of Protestant values, because boys shouldn't be taught to play with dolls, and that after this confusing message from Gordon, Baby Bear needs the Gospel.

While I sympathize with Strachan's concern that boys might grow up to be nurturing fathers, both he and Sesame Street are missing the point.

The fact is, Baby Bear should not be playing with baby dolls. He is a bear. And socializing him with humans (let alone human babies) can only bring grief.

I know, you might think I'm overreacting, but the Bible is very clear on the role of bears in human relationships. They are meant to be voracious killing machines. I mean, the ONE COMMAND God gives specifically to bears is to "Arise and devour much flesh." This attempt to anthropomorphize and humanize bears strikes at the heart of everything the gospel teaches about bears.

If Sesame Street hadn't completely capitulated to heretical ursine views, the conversation between Baby Bear and Gordon should have gone something like this:

Baby Bear: It’s a doll.
Gordon: So?!
Baby Bear: So…Gordon…I’m a boy, and dolls are for girls!
Gordon: No, you're not a boy. You're male, but boys are human. You're a male bear cub. Now put that doll down and tear into it with your teeth. That's right, really rip into it. Pull the head off... good! Good bear! Now go for the entrails!

Or, even more correct:

Baby Bear: Grrrr.
Gordon: A baby bear? Here in New York City? I'm calling Animal Control!
Baby Bear: Rawr!
Gordon: Ahhh! Stop with the biting! Ahhhh! Why won't it listen? Is it a boy or a girl bear? Ahhhh! 

I, for one, take this issue seriously in my family and at the organization I head up, The Council on Biblical Interactions Between Humans and Animals.

In fact, because of Teddy Roosevelt's (the Dutch Reformed Episcopalian President) undermining of the scriptural role of bears in the family, I have been training my own children in the godly way to interact with bears. I include a few instructive photos here for all the parents:

One, teach your child that cuddling her teddy bear is not appropriate. Should she come across a real bear, the bears would either smother her when they roll over, or possibly eat her.

And don't get me started on the "rainbow" bear.

Second, kissing bears is right out. They will eat your face off. Do not allow your children to kiss their teddy bears.

Especially don't kiss bears named "Pooh."
There's a reason they're called that.

This is the correct way to play with teddy bears (or any bears at all). Lay on the ground, roll into a ball and play dead. Even if they are leaning in close to your face, about to take a big bite.

This looks easy, but is much harder with real bears.

Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES should one attempt to lift a bear by its hind legs. You will probably get a hernia and/or be swiped by its claws, smashed beneath it, eaten or mauled.

In real life, that paint-spattered bear would be
devouring much flesh, just as God intended.

I've also taught all three of my daughters this helpful proverb: "Never go to a teddy bear picnic because you just might be on the menu."

You can see what others are saying about this conversation in a variety of places:

My friend Caryn Rivadeneira's thoughts.
Some thoughts from a preschool teacher. (ETA: Oops. Kristen is not a preschool teacher. She's a paralegal But it's still a good read.)
Rachel Held Evans has a good post where people from both sides of the question are having a civil conversation on the topic.

There are a bunch more out there, too. No one mentions the bear angle, but that's why you come here... FOR HARD HITTING JOURNALISM THAT ISN'T AFRAID TO CALL IT LIKE IT IS!

Now, in the comments: How are you preparing YOUR children for the coming Bearpocalypse?

My three year old drew this on the computer

I thought it was pretty cool. Because I am her father.

Hush little darling. Daddy is going to buy your silence.

My three-year-old daughter, M, likes to have an occasional song sung to her at bedtime. She especially likes it when Krista sings "The Mockingbird Song." I've tried to sing it to her, but she tells me that I get the lyrics wrong.

Here are the lyrics according to M:

Hush little baby, don't say a word
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.
And if that mockingbird don't sing.
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.
And if that diamond ring don't shine,
Mama's gonna get you another diamond ring.
And if that other diamond ring don't shine,
Mama's gonna buy you another diamond ring.

And if that diamond ring don't shine,
Mama's gonna get you another diamond ring.
And if that other diamond ring don't shine,
Mama's gonna buy you another diamond ring.
And if that diamond ring don't shine,
You're still the sweetest little baby of mine.

Merry Christmas, Little Pigs, little pigs

Merry Christmas everyone!

Right now 3 year old M and I are playing in a fort we made on the couch. It's not quite large enough for me to fit in (so I may have to stay in the stable).

Also, I think I have some catch up to do either with telling M more stories or working on her listening comprehension, because this is the conversation we keep having:

Me: Knock, knock.

Her: Who is it?

Me: The big bad wolf! Little pig, little pig, let me in.

Her (cheerfully): Okay!

Then the "door" swings open and she lets me in. Tomorrow's lesson: The three little pigs, natural selection and when to open the door.

But for today, it's Christmas! And even the big bad wolf should get invited in sometimes.

Okay, we're on our way out to a big Chinese meal for dinner! Merry Christmas!

My three year old makes me laugh

In the evening I lay down in bed with my three year old. Lately she has taken to putting her head at the foot of the bed (having moved her pillow there, too... I suppose making it the head of the bed, actually). I lay the other way, with my head on a stuffed owl.

We usually read a book (tonight was Curious George) or sing a song (often Eidelweiss, which I sang EVERY NIGHT to the older girls for many years). M will talk a bit, say things about the days, sometimes says terrifying things about scary creatures (two nights ago she had me close her window shade because she "saw a creeper" out there... a bit of information she delivered with absolute calm). Eventually, just before she goes to sleep, she says, "Good night, Daddy" and I say good night to her and then she sighs and falls asleep.

Tonight, she said, "Good night, Daddy" and I said, "Good night" and she said, "You have to say my name," so I said good night again only this time with her name.

About a minute later she said, "Is it time to go to sleep?"

That was an odd question, and didn't fit our nightly ritual, so I said, "Yes, it is."

Then she laughed and said, "I know, Dad, that was a joke!"

Good one!

And now she's asleep!

More Christmas hilarity from my three year old daughter

Apparently my three year old had made herself an English muffin the other day. It was not split open and it was not toasted, but it was slathered with peanut butter and jelly across the top. She had taken one bite out of it and then left it sitting out on the counter all day.

I left this for you, Santa.

I asked her: M, are you done with this? Can I throw it away?

M: I don't want it. You can just leave it out for Santa.

Me: No, if you don't want it I'll throw it away.

M: Just leave it there and it will be gone in the morning.

Yes, that's right, kids. Every night when you go to bed, Santa comes and eats everything you leave on your plates. Then he washes your dishes and cleans the kitchen. He's a swell guy that Santa.

My three year old and why she thinks she should get dressed up for Santa

Seems like Santa could get
dressed up a little bit too.

I came home last night and my three-year-old M was all dressed up in a shiny red dress. This is surprising, because usually she likes to wear a t-shirt and underwear and no pants.

I asked her why she was all dressed up, and she said, "For Santa." I asked her why she thought Santa wanted her to be dressed up, and she said, "Because if I dress up he will bring me the presents I want."

Hmmm. I might have to wear nicer clothes tomorrow.

Also, for some reason, M is very focused on what Santa wants her to wear. Also monsters.

My three year old daughter sends her first emails

My three year old was playing with Krista's iPad the other day and then started sending me emails. She has never sent email before, certainly not without help, so here are the three emails she sent me. All of them came with pictures.

Number One. 

V b bc m c.  .  L $ m. .cv l @huh bm'c.    $!3 e?)?$3&?hvkfdncn.   C. X. C. V.  C.  C. Bvbnngngnfnnfnfnngngnvnnnnvbnv@ bdbnnmv vf, nmcnvnvn ,hbbbgtngkrgjgjjkkjjkylykjffhfbdbdvbfdvgdbngbnbfdjfbffnfbfhfhhhhghhghhghhgbnxj. Bd nbmcbnd. N 

Email number two:

Email #3:

Congratulations, kid, on your first three emails! Now they are immortalized forever on the internet.

QUESTION: How about you? Do you remember your first email?

Awwww. Kids are cute.

This is the conversation I just had with my three-year-old, M, while I was putting her to bed.

Daddy: Give me a hug before you fall asleep.

A big hug is dispensed.

Daddy: You're my sweet girl.

M: You're my sweet girl, too, Daddy.

My three year old explains why she is afraid of monsters

At six a.m. this morning my three-year-old crawled into bed with me, put her head under the covers and said, "I have to hide from the monsters." She often mentions monsters and never seems particularly bothered by them. In fact, the whole putting her head under the covers was new. Still, she didn't seem particularly upset.

I assured here there were not monsters in our house (note that I used the qualifier "in our house"). I told her, the only people in the house are me, your mom and your sisters.

She pointed out into the darkness of the bedroom and said, "No. There's a monster right there."

I could see just well enough to tell that there was no monster where she was pointing, and I said so.

"I don't like scary monsters," she said. "When they come, they want to get me all dressed up."

"They do?"

"Yes. And I don't like getting dressed up."

Scary monsters. They're the worst.

Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street even though it's early in the morning and you'd rather be sleeping?

Z the middle schooler (!) started out the school year getting up early and happily getting ready for the day. Then, a few days ago she started waking up and saying groggily, "Five more minutes" and then, on Tuesday she woke up and groaned, "Twenty more minutes!"

Having gone to the Secret Academy of Fathers, I know that there are three basic ways that are SAF-approved for waking children and getting them out of bed:

1) The use of lights of various intensities and colors

2) A constant barrage of bad puns

3) The use of singing and/or musical instruments

I chose option #3 and since I had just seen baby M starting Sesame Street downstairs, I started to sing this song:

"Sunny days! Chasing the clouds away.
On our way to the where the air is clear!
Can you tell me how to get...
How to get to Sesame Street?"

Z listened to this song from beneath her covers before finally casting them off her face and saying, "Go straight down Boring Avenue and then take a left and you'll be on Sesame Street!"

Shocking. But you know, she never really liked Sesame Street, even as a baby.

And it got her out of bed. Tomorrow: It's a wonderful day in the Neighborhood.