Here's the sort of Biblical justice that comes upon you if you try to throw leaves at me!

Glad to see the kids enjoying fall!

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.

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?

God is watching over us. And some other people.

At night when I put M to sleep, sometimes we sing songs together. Tonight she wanted to sing a song called "God is watching over us." I don't know this song (she must have learned it at preschool), but basically it goes, "God is watching, watching over me." Or us. Or you. She would sing it all those different ways and then say. "God is watching over me, not you." Or, "God is watching over you, Dad."

Then, after about ten rounds of this song she stopped, looked me in the eye and said, "God is watching over us. And the Power Rangers kill monsters."

Yes, dear, that's right. Sweet dreams.

Eavesdropping with Matt (Episode Sixty-Three: Red, White and Blue Man Group)

Dedicated to the fine "Sparks" leaders at our local church's AWANA group and to the children who bravely and enthusiastically answer any question that is asked of them.

Everyone (singing): "Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world.

They are precious in His sight.

Leader: Who know what the colors in that song represent?

Child #1: Children with different colors of hair?

Leader: Nooooooo. Anyone else?

Child #2: The flag of the United States of America?

For more Eavesdropping with Matt, steel yourself and click on this link.

Dora the Explorer Live Action Movie

My three-year-old (M) and I were both home sick yesterday with an awful, cringe-inducing head cold. I    felt like someone had nailed me onto the couch, and she could barely lift her head off the floor in front of the television. Which means, of course, that I let her watch television for a decent part of the day.

Yesterday was a "Dora the Explorer" day. It made me think about all the cartoons I watched as a kid, like "He-Man" and "G.I. Joe" and "Transformers" and how eventually I grew up and then Hollywood tried to help me recapture my youth by making live action movies loosely based on my childhood cartoons.

These movies are not always particularly faithful to the source material. It made me wonder... what would a live action DORA THE EXPLORER MOVIE look like?

Now I know:

My daughter says hilarious things when we see animals

At the Clark County Fair we saw an alligator snapping turtle, just laying in the water in its tank, its mouth wide open, wiggling its tongue around. I called my kids over... the turtle at the fair was much more disgusting than the one in the picture here. My 11 year old, Z, said something funny that I thought you would enjoy.

Me: See how its tongue looks like a worm? He just lays there underwater with his mouth open, wiggling that tongue, and when a fish comes along and bites his tongue, he snaps his mouth closed and eats it!

Z: That's disgusting.

Me: Yeah. Pretty awesome.

Z: Hey dad, what if there was a predator that ate humans and it had a really yummy looking hamburger for a tongue.

Me: Ha ha ha. That would be funny.

And, on further consideration... it would work.

Of course, in nature it might look more like this, which the more discerning humans would know to pass up:

Alright, people, be honest. What kind of food could a predator catch you with?

What was that sound?

This is the conversation I had with my 3 year old daughter a few days ago.

Baby M: Dada, what was that sound?

Me: Oh, I think the kids left the video games on in the other room.

Baby M: No. The sound came out of my butt.

It just makes you want to hold her and say, "Never grow up, baby, never grow up."

My 2 year old thinks I look like a movie star. Or... something.

This weekend I was flipping through an issue of Entertainment Weekly with my two-year-old, M, sitting on my lap, when she suddenly slapped her hand down on a page and shouted, "DADDY! THAT"S YOU!" Here's the picture:

I laughed and said, "That's not daddy." I thought it was pretty funny, though, so later I wanted to show Krista and I opened the magazine to that picture, held it up to M and asked, "Who is that, M?" She looked at it, thought for a minute and said, "That's ugly picture." Curses! Foiled again! By my two-year-old!

In which my two-year-old tells me something I already know

Krista was out of town one night this weekend. Baby M woke up at 6 a.m. in the morning. I greeted her with bleary-eyed, half coherent mumbling and she looked me in the eyes and said, "Want to eat lunch." 

"It's not lunch time," I said. Sometimes she calls breakfast lunch.

 "Want cinnamon chex."

 "No. It's too early."

 "Want mama."

 "Mama isn't here this morning. She's in Corvallis."

 "Want mama!"

 "She's not here."

 "WANT. MAMA."

 "She's Not Here."

 At this point, M adjourned to the hallway, where she stood at the top of the stairs and shouted: MAMA! 

(Me: she's not here!)

 MAMA, COME UPSTAIRS!

 (me: She's not here, M!)

 MAMAAAA! COME UPSTAIRS!

(me: M, she's not here. I'm telling you she's not here.)

MAMA! WANT MAMA! COME UPSTAIRS MAMA!

(me: She's not here! She's not here!)

M walked back into my room and leaned up against the bed so that her eyes were even with mine. She waited until I looked her in the eye, and then she said to me, confidentially, "Mama not here."

Games Made Up By My Children

Z turns nine this year, and she is already planning for her big "horse party."  Part of this includes making up new games.  On the way to school today she and A came up with a game called "Pick Up the Poop."

A: First you get some tootsie rolls --

Z: Then you unwrap them --

A: They have to be really big tootsie rolls!

Z: And you hide them in the grass.

A: And then everyone goes out to find them in the grass!

Z: And whoever gets the most wins!

A: What do they win?

Z: They don't win a prize, they win the game.


Because, you see, if you found all the poop, that's prize enough.  Be sure to watch this space.  If this makes it to the birthday party next month I'll be sure to include pictures.

Life isn't fair when you're a kid

You know, there are times when I watch my kids and think, "Oh, it would be great to be a kid, when all I had to worry about was whether I would like the vegetables with my dinner and keeping my room clean."  But the fact is, life can be tough on kids sometimes, and although my kids point it out a little too often and with perhaps some exaggeration, life isn't always fair when you're a kid, either.

A case in point: Last Monday I sent Z off to school with an envelope containing twenty bucks, so she could turn it in at the cafeteria for her lunch money fund.  That day when she got to the cafeteria, the lunch lady told her that she didn't have any money in her account and she couldn't get lunch.  She eventually caved and let Z get lunch, at least, but told her that she had never turned in her money.

So Z tells us about it, and just to make sure we check her backpack and she cleaned out her desk at school.  No envelope full of cash.  Now the thing is, my kids loses stuff sometimes.  She does.  But she was really committed to the fact that she had turned that money in.  She told me all about it.  When she did it.  Who took it.  Her confusion about it not being in her account.  And this kid is pretty sharp.  There are plenty of adults I would put in second place to her on sheer mental acuity.  So I believe her. 

This week I went in to ask the lunch lady about it.  And you know what's weird?  She has pink hair.  Not that this bothers me, but I wanted to point it out just in case you had the stereotypical picture of a lunch lady with blue hair.  Anyway, I tell her who I am and tell her I want to see my daughter's lunch account balance.  She says this is no problem.  It's at negative one dollar.

"I sent in twenty bucks on Monday," I said. 

"I know your daughter and she never came in here with twenty dollars.  Maybe she gave it to the teacher."

"But she didn't give it to the teacher.  She brought it in here."

"I would have a record of that.  Look, here in the computer it says that she last brought money in November.  And I write down all the kids who bring it in by hand also."

"Maybe we could look at last Monday's handwritten list."

"Okay."  She goes off to find it, brings it back and sits down and we look over the list.  "See?" she said.  "She's not on the list."

Except that she is.  Right in the middle.  I point her out.  And now instead of the slightly defensive person having an internal monologue about how kids always lose stuff and parents complain, there's a conversation about not-knowing-how-this-could-happen and where is the money and whose account did it end up in.  I told her I was sure she would figure it out, she assured me she would, and I left.  Notice the lack of apology.  Nobody is going to pull Z aside next time she goes through the lunch line and say, "Hey, kid, you were right and all the adults were wrong.  Good job.  You deserve to be trusted."  Because she's eight years old, and she loses stuff sometimes. 

Sometimes it's good to be an adult.

Lessons I Learned at the Roller Rink with My Daughters

This week was roller rink madness for the children, and I went along to observe and learn. Here are some of my lessons:

1. It's got to be about the roller skating.


All the way to the rink  the kids kept begging me to skate with them.  But as they talked more and more about how many of their friends would be there, and how much better they are at skating than me, I started to have a sinking suspicion about something.

Me: Are you guys going to ditch me as soon as we get there?

Kids: Yes!

Me: So, if I rent roller skates and go out there, you guys are going to leave me to skate by myself?

A: It's just that you aren't that good, Dad.

Z: And all our friends are going to be there.

Me: In other words, you're planning to ditch me.

Kids: Right!


2. The race is not won by the swift, but by the medium swift with good listening skills.

During a classic game of "Red Light, Green Light" the seventeen year old announcer (we'll call him Billy) cleverly removed all the best skaters from the game by saying things like, "If you rented your skates today take three steps forward" and then sending them back to the beginning because he didn't say "Green Light."  All three of the winning kids were in the medium range of skaters and followed directions precisely.  They had learned to skate in such a way as to not be disqualified.

3. Dig Dug is still fun.

The arcade game Dig Dug, in which a burrowing burrower destroys monsters which can turn into ghosts by dropping rocks on them or pumping them up with a bicycle pump.  It's ridiculous, and would never stand up to the complex games of today, but the fact is that if I had ten bucks worth of quarters I could have emptied my pockets into that arcade game while my kids were skating.  Ah, vanished youth!  Return to us with your crazy video games! 

4. Soundtrack, Lighting and Timing matter more than stern lectures.

About halfway through the evening, the owner of the roller rink got into the Deejay's box, took hold of the mike, cut the music and announced that SOMEONE IS CALLING 911 FROM THE PAYPHONES!  She informed the children that the police had called the roller rink, and that if anyone was caught calling 911 they would be PROSECUTED!  Also, the school principal would be informed. 

About half a second after she turned the microphone back to our seventeen year old Deejay, Billy, he turned off the lights, turned on the strobe lights and disco ball and turned on Michael Jackson's THRILLER.  An enormous cheer came up from the crowd, must too quickly after what had been a chastened silence and we suddenly all realized that Billy was saying that whoever had called 911 was a hero*, because there was an emergency, because if you weren't here in the flickering light of the disco ball and celebrating 1980's pop music then you were missing out, you were somehow lesser than us, and that was cause for concern, and for now we just wanted to say, while skating in circles over and over, "Because it's Thriller, Thriller night..."**

* Billy was wrong of course.  Calling 911 frivilously is stupid and can cause a lot of damange in addition to getting you jail time.  Don't do it!

** No, I have no idea how a bunch of grade schoolers knew this song.  But they did.

Why are clouds different colors?

One of the great things about children is that you realize that there are all sorts of questions in life that you've never thought to ask... questions like, "Dad, why are some clouds black and other clouds white?"

I decided that instead of researching this question I would, instead, "Ask The Audience" to give me a final answer for my children.  Please vote in the poll below:

1) Clouds are different colors dependent on the color of their mother and father clouds.

2) God decides whether to make them white, black or something in-between so that they match their surroundings.

3) Evolution. Clouds that are best adapted to their environment are most likely to evade their natural predators, and thus are the most likely to procreate.  That's why purple, yellow and plaid clouds are relatively rare.

4) Optical thickness, either because of quantity or density of water droplets, prevents light from getting through the cloud.

5) If it's about to rain, the cloud is darker, genius.

McGruff the Crime Dog says, DON'T DO DRUGS!

We're all moved in back home today... probably put up more pictures, etc. later sometime when we catch our breath. I will say that the new medical lingo referring to this time with a newborn as the "fourth trimester" is either mathematically challenged or purposely doing violence to our language.

Tonight I was getting Krista's pills out and A asked me something.

"Just a minute," I said to A, "I have to get Mom's drugs."

She looked at me intensely and said, "DRUGS?!"

In about three seconds every anti-drug advertisement and cartoon I had ever seen flew through my brain... from an egg representing my brain and on through the musical stylings of McGruff the Crime Dog.

"Uh," I said. "I meant medicine."

A looked at me skeptically. "Then why did you say drugs?"

"Some medicines can also be called drugs," I said.

And then she gave me the most withering look of pure disappointment. As if to say, Dad, I thought I raised you better than that.

Birds in the Bedroom

My kids have a freakish ability to wake up at 6:55 a.m. every morning. It doesn't matter how late they stay up. It doesn't matter how tired they are. Weekends. Weekdays. Holidays.

Yesterday morning they somehow slept in. At 7:15 I went to check on them and they were asleep, but I could hear the most raucous caucophony of birds outside their window... like "CAT IN OUR TREE EMERGENCY" sort of bird calls. I was amazed at how loud it was.

The kids came down a little later and I mentioned to them how loud the birds had been in their room a few minutes before.

Z got a sly look on her face and she watched me with sidelong eyes. "That's our alarm clock," she said.

"Ha ha," I said.

"No, really. 'A' figured out how to turn it on and we set it for 6:55 every morning."

Aha. Mystery solved.

Wow. I don't know what to say. Except that the envelope of weird has been pushed.

Please enjoy:

Children's Christmas Letters to Christopher Walken

I particularly like this one.

A creepy story about my new HQ

I took A to my new office today so she could check it out. She went upstairs to the conference room and drew with markers. I asked her if she liked the new office or the old office better and she said the old office. When asked why she had no answer. A few minutes later she came down and told me she now had a reason she preferred the old office. Here is what she said:

I was upstairs drawing and I finished with one marker so I put the cap back up and then I heard a sound like this... skritch! Skritch! Skritch!

It sounded like someone drawing. I thought someone was copying me. But there was no one there.

Creepy, isn't it?