Was Lost, But Now Am Found (The Leo Story)
Given that Finny is over 5 years old, it's sort of surprising that until last night, he'd never spent the night without his constant companion, Leo. As you know, we've spent those 5 years working diligently to ensure that Leo never got lost, which, in fact, worked a little too well and now Finny has 3 Leos in action: the Original Leo, and the two Leomarans, each of which magically appeared at some point.
Even so, there have still been many many cumulative hours logged looking for the various "lost" buddies - at home, in the car, in the basement, at preschool, etc. To prevent buds from being left behind, we've developed a standing rule for ourselves when buddies come with us on outings, which goes a little somethin' like this: "Buds in the car, buds in the car. Lookin' like a FOOL with your buds in the car!"
Well, yesterday, the boys flaunted the "buds in the car" law, and Leo was mistakenly left behind at our nanny's four year-old granddaughter's house. We did not discover his absence until it was almost bedtime, so after Finny had a brief meltdown (but I can't sleep without him! I've never gone to sleep without sucking on his tail!!!), Yvonne called Jessie's mom, who committed to bringing Leo back this morning before we left for school. I told Finny that Jessie would take good care of him, and Leo would get to enjoy his first sleepover, which is pretty exciting when you think about it!
I think Finny was so tired from a big exciting day with Yvonne that he fell asleep as soon as I turned out the light, snuggled amongst his other buddies. I didn't hear a peep about Leo at all! And, as promised, Leo was delivered, well-rested and happy, to his ecstatic and grateful human companion, this morning at 8 a.m.
What is that looen doin’?
Finny absolutely loves this cartoon, which came to us courtesy of a New Yorker cartoon-a-day calendar from my mom. My vocal rendition to him consists of an urbane, slightly self-satisfied cat purring, "Hmm, I must say, that was surprisingly easy."
(Historical footnote: At age 2 Finn decided to rebrand his lion as a "looen," just so we could say "What is that looen doin'?")
Just Keep Swimming
When we were in cold and snowy Leadville for Finny's birthday, the four of us spent a lovely afternoon at the (very warm!) indoor pool just down the street from my folks' place. We took our pool noodles with us and splashed around for quite some time. Finny was really going for it! With a couple noodles wrapped under his chest, and a supportive Mom-o or Dad-o hand underneath, that kid did lap after lap up and down the pool. We decided that it'd be perfect timing to sign him and Henry up for swim lessons, so that they could get really comfortable with the water and start learning how to swim in time for summer.
Thanks to our friends the Wiggins, we found a good deal on individual swim lessons at the San Jose State campus aquatic center. We go every Saturday morning, and each guy has a half-our, one-on-one lesson with an instructor. Finny's instructor is Jess (who has a small, terrific dinosaur skeleton tattoo on her arm), and Henry's is Kiyomi. Finny is having a ball and has already made really good progress. He's practicing "torpedo arms" and kicking, putting his face in the water, holding his breath, and floating. Henry is a little more hesitant, and a little less cooperative - he likes to hang out in a little closed-off area called "the cave" on the side of the pool, but Kiyomi does a great job cajoling him further out into the big pool for practice. He floats and half-heartedly kicks, but mostly he lets Kiyomi haul him and his noodle around the pool.
The real game-changer for both guys has been goggles! Finn spent a lot of time wiping water out of his face during the first lesson, and Henry's not a big fan of anything in his eyes, either. John ran out and got a 3-pack of goggles before their second lesson and both guys were much happier with them on. We'll keep doing the lessons until the guys are feeling comfortable splashing around and nailing some of the swimming basics, and we plan on visiting our neighborhood pool a lot this summer!
Mas Espanol!
We are really happy to announce that Finnegan is enrolled in the Two-Way Bilingual Immersion program at our neighborhood elementary school, Willow Glen Elementary. He already knows and understands a ton of Spanish thanks to his 2 years at Pasitos bilingual preschool, and is very excited about continuing to learn and speak Spanish in kindergarten. He can stay in the bilingual program through 5th grade at Willow Glen, and there are middle- and high school options for continuing in the bilingual program until graduation.
The bilingual programs are very popular where we live, and you have to be chosen by a lottery system to get a slot. The ratio of children in the programs is always 50% native English speakers to 50% native Spanish speakers - so even though there may be 60 slots available, only 30 of them will go to your native language group. And the competition for slots is fierce, making us all the more excited that Finny actually got selected. His preschool teachers (maestras) were also thrilled to hear that he got in, and they know he will do extremely well in the program. He's a pretty verbal kid (suprise, surprise) in both languages!
Girls and Boys
Yesterday, as I was getting ready to leave for work, the boys and I were chatting by the back door. A propos of nothing, Finny asked, "Mom-o, how do you tell girl and boy babies apart?"
I knew he already knew the (anatomical) answer, so, Jeopardy-style, I phrased my answer in the form of a question: "Well, Finny, girls and boys look different, don't they? How would you tell them apart?"
F: "Boys have hair like this (pointing to his hair), and girls have curly hair like you!"
M: "Well, sometimes that's true, but that's not the only way to tell. What else is different?"
F: "Boys wear velcro shoes (pointing to his sneakers), and girls don't (pointing to my flats)."
M: "True. What about their bodies? Do their bodies look different?"
Henry: "Girls wear lipstick!"
Dad-o: {now chuckling audibly offstage, in the TV room}
M: "Well...yes...but there's one definite way to tell when you look at a naked girl baby or a naked boy baby, right? How do you go to the bathroom?"
F: "Oh! Yeah! Girls don't have one of these! (pointing to his underpants...)
aaaaand, SCENE.
Brotherly Negotiations
The guys continue to negotiate the finer points of sharing their toys with each other. Most of the time, sharing is still a pretty contentious topic with lots of grabbing, pointing fingers, pint-sized threats, and pouting.
However, there are a few golden moments when they are being super nice and polite to each other, saying please and thank you, happily exchanging toys. In those moments, I think what we're trying to teach them is actually sinking in.
I also like to imagine Finn and Henry singing a little song like this: {sung to the tune of "Happy Together" by the Turtles}
Imagine me and you, I do
We share our toys day and night, and night and day
We play with matchbox cars, and Thomas too
We're sharing together
Cars and blocks, and trucks and tools
We share together so nicely
The only pal for me is you, and you for me
We're sharing together
I can't see me sharing with no-one but you
yeah all our toys
When we're playing, brother i'll be so nice to you
yeah all our toys
Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba
Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba
Of Prides and Parliaments
The boys rooms are slowly turning into wildlife refuge areas (of the faux-fur, stuffed variety, that is). As you know, our man Finny is a big lion fan. He has amassed several leonine amigos, in addition to his standbys Leo and Leomaran. Friends and family have cottoned on to his love of all things lion. His growing pride now consists of those two, plus Cuttely Buttey, Whiskery Fellow, Rar Rar, Tiny Lion, and Lion Pillow.
Henry is doing his part to build an avian sanctuary. His love for owls started with his little blankie buddies Ollie and Catamaran, and has now expanded to include Blanca, Watchful Owl, Hoo Hoo, Big Owl, Roy, an owl-to-be-named later given to him by his grandma, and Owl Pillow. Having heard that his brother's group of lions is called a "pride," he asked what a group of owls is called. So, we looked it up and found out that groups of owls are referred to as "parliaments." I think this must make Henry the Minister of Strigidae.
[While Googling just now for an appropriate illustration, I came across the story of a lady with an 18,000-item collection of owl paraphernalia. Yeesh—I think G-Man may be on his way to becoming a Crazy Owl Lady! --J.]
MicroCivics
Glimpsed at Pasitos the other day, it appears that the class has been learning about voting through the power of breakfast crackers. It looks like the boys abstained from voting; had they not, the Ritz victory would have been even more commanding!
The Darn Cohaagens
Brutalizing!
Brutalando!
Brutalini!
A few months ago, the boys started smothering me in blankets. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen to my brain, but I thought of an Arnold Schwarzenegger line in Total Recall: "Come on, Cohaagen [the villain], you have what you want, now give the people air!!"—or as people like to render his accent, "Give deez people ehyar!!" From inside the stifling blanket pile I blurted out (in cheesy accent), "Come on, you little Cohaagens, give the Dad-O air!!" Man was that a hit!
Ever since then, the lads have been requesting "brutalizing" (or as they Spanglify it, "brutalando," or in faux-Italian, "brutalini"), insisting that they be the Darn Cohaagens while I play Ahnuld. I try to get into the bathroom to turn on the fan (y'know, to give deez people ehyar), and they race around turning it off, then re-burying me in blankets. Ja, good times! 
Ant-tastic!
A few weeks back on my work blog, I shared the intriguing work of Dr. Walter Tschinkel, a Florida "entomologist and myrmecologist" (i.e. bug-studier) who makes fascinating sculptures by pouring hot metal down anthills. The boys really enjoyed watching the video about his techniques:
Independently the guys have enjoyed being superheroes, giving themselves new names each day ("I'm Rain Man!" "I'm Bat-Saber, and I defend bats!"). I suppose it was inevitable that these worlds would collide. "My name is Dr. Ant Colony," announced Finn the other day, "Y'know, like that Walter Tschinkel." He & Henry then began debating whether ants poop & pee.
Well, this being a small world, I asked the actual Walter Tschinkel! He was charmed to hear about his local fame, and he sent the boys a bunch of info & photos. "Adult ants only eat liquids," he reports, "so their poop is kind of gooey and wet." I'll spare you the other gross (i.e. kid-delighting) details we learned.
Oh, and one more thing. A few days later, we had the following exchange:
Finn: "How are pipes made?"
Me: "Well, I suppose someone melts metal, then forms it into shapes."
Finn (proudly): "You know who'd do that? Walter Tschinkel! He uses an old garbage can!"
Walk This Way
"It's not amazing that adults make children," I've heard it said, "so much as that children make adults."
Today I took the lads to Santa Cruz for some good times at the beach boardwalk. They were generally great, but just trying to keep them around & unflattened by crowds can get wearying. Their "predictably irrational" approach to walking—endless weaving & start-stops, seemingly perfectly coordinated to be out of sync with each other—inevitably grinds on a parent's nerves.
Thus after 4+ hours we found ourselves leaving Marianne's Ice Cream shop, and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel—or more specifically, the door to the child-securing implements in the Ocho. As I towed Henry towards the door, Finn kept jerking in front of me, causing my cow-catching hand to keep grazing his head to urge him forward. Cue the following conversation (in front of some biker chicks):
Finn: "Dad-O! I hate it when you poke me like that! Just all, blah blah with your hand!"
Me: "I know, dude, but why can't you guys just walk like a normal person?? Just head out in a direction and keep going."
Finn: "But I like to walk like this! [proceeds to demonstrate weaving, pausing, etc. in front of me]"
Me: "I know!! And see, it just really wears out a grown-up, and—"
Finn: "But that's just The Life Of The Kid!!"
…at which point, the biker chicks started cracking up, and so did I.
"You know, Finny," I told him, "I've never been a dad before, and you guys have never been kids before, so we kind of have to teach each other patience, okay?" Okay, he said. I think we've got ourselves a deal.
Questionable Etymologies
The funky tandem stroller we bought from our friends the Wiggii often draws questions from parents at the park. Today was no exception, and today Finn overheard that the stroller was made by the company "Phil & Teds." Apparently he thinks it's a very influential bunch:
"Dad-O, did you name Uncle Ted after Phil & Ted?"
"Er, no, buddy," I said, "we named him after my Uncle Ted. You know, he was a policeman in Chicago."
"Oh." After a minute or so went by, he followed up: "Was the policeman named after Phil & Ted?"
I politely explained that I don't think the stroller company was that big a deal in the 1930's.
Department of Vehicular Misinformation
At some point months ago, the guys & I were playing with Matchbox cars, and when they talked about a Ferrari's engine being under the hood, I explained, "Actually that's a mid-engine car. See, the engine goes behind the seats; you can tell by these vents here on the sides."
They were intrigued and asked, "Why don't we have a mid-engine car?" I chuckled and, not wanting to get into why Dad-O can't afford a Ferrari, said "Well, those cars tend to be small inside. They're better for guys with no kids."
Wouldn't you know it, this little factoid keeps popping out at the oddest moments:
- One night Finn was mad at me for making him get ready for bed. He flopped onto the bedroom floor and most piteously said, "Dad-O, I just want you to step on me! I want there to be no more Finny, and then you'd get a mid-engine car!"
- Henry spotted a young couple out for dinner the other day & said, "They don't have any kids. They must have a mid-engine car."
- We explained recently that before we had kids, instead of the Ocho we had a Jetta. "Oh," observed Finny, "I guess it was mid-engine."
Despite my attempts to clarify the situation, the real info just isn't taking. Ah well: I'll just settle in for a life of cheerfully misinforming the boys, a la Calvin's dad.
Nack Boy Soundtrack
Our boys love music. Especially songs where they can goof on the lyrics (gee, I wonder who they learned that from, Dad-o!). We've incorporated many variations of songs into our daily routine, such as:
- Tricky - Run DMC (they chant this as they walk up the slides at the playground)
- Rock Candy Mountain (when candy is near)
- Personal Penguin (and myriad variations) - this is a bedtime tradition from waaaaay back.
- Buds In The Car (to the tune of "pants on the ground")
- Fa Fa Americano (aka Wip Bip Bip Yeow, often sung while chasing each other/us)
And then there are songs that we listen to in the car that the kids really get a kick out of:
- Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes (aka Dinos on a Skateboard)
- Another One Bites the Dust (by famous singer Freddy Markery)
- Ring of Fire, Rusty Cage, and A Boy Named Sue (Finny loves the bit about "cut off a piece of my ear")
- Peter and the Wolf
- Buds in the Car (sung to the tune of "Pants On The Ground")
- Moves Like Jagger, aka "Moose Like Jacket"
- Graceland
- The Fast Cheap and Out Of Control Soundtrack aka "Elephant Music" (listen to it and you'll understand)
- Lovely Rita Meter Maid
- Big River by the Beat Farmers
- Party Rockin' by LMFAO
Date Night
When Yvonne (our new nanny) and the guys got home from the park this afternoon, she told John and me that Finny told her he was planning on finding a wife, and would therefore need some "date nights." She mentioned that he might want to start out by first finding a girlfriend. When I was chatting with Finny one-on-one a few minutes later, I asked him about his date night idea:
M: "Yvonne tells me that you need a date night."
F: "Yeah, but first I need a girlfriend."
M: "Oh, you do? Where will you find one?"
F: "I'll look for one on my computer when I get older."
M: "Oh, ok, that sounds like a good idea. In the meantime, maybe you could find one at school?"
F: "Well, I like Jordan, but she's big and going to kindergarten, so she won't be at school anymore."
M: "Oh, I see. Well, what about Cosita [a 3-year-old at school]?"
F: {furrows brow, looks at me skeptically.}
M: "Oh, too small?"
F: "Yeah, too small."
M: "Well, when you find one, where will you take her on a date?"
F: "To see a movie. I would like that."
And so we have a plan for Finny's first date night.
[Finn tells me, "I'm going to name my wife 'Off-Of-It.'" When pressed as to why, he tells me, "Well, she's always going off of things." Go figure! ;-p See also from last year, "The Marrying Men." --J.]
A Finn-worthy flowchart
Self-proclaimed "bacon devil" Finn & his little bro have a Jack Spratt-style arrangement when it comes to meat: Finn grabs the protein while Henry carbo-loads via buns. This works especially well on "meat hut" sandwiches as Hen quite willingly (and amazingly) parts with his bacon; brotherly sharing at its finest!
In any event, I saw this image and thought of our big guy. (Click to get the full-size version.) Maybe it could make even Henry see the greasy, greasy light.
Of Pretzels & Bosses
Over the weekend I showed Finn a little bird-puppet animation, after which we had a little career chat:
- Me: I would like to work with Adobe guys to make things like that.
- Finn: Oh yeah--like a dung beetle?
- Me: Well... maybe...
- Finn: Is this with Nemhauser or the new boss?
- Me: The new one.
- Finn: Oh. I would like the new one to be named "Pretzel." (Dad-O, can I have some pretzels?)
And here's the crazier part: I subsequently shared this with one of my new colleagues who asked, "Does he know that my dog is named Pretzel?" I guess I know who (or what) I'll now be reporting to!
Morbid times
Finn's explaining some grim tales to Henry regarding their "family" of plastic dump trucks:
The mom died last summer. The dad will probably die on a trip, so they'll have to live with the grandma & grandpa. Instead of blood coming out, it'd be oil and gas. She went to Moffett Field when they were working on that big hangar, and it still had the skin on, and she got some bad chemicals. She ate a lot of chemicals, like fuzz & grass and stuff. Probably people will find her & make her a mummy & toss her in the air, then put her in a hole to bury her up. And the kids will say, "Waaaah, where's our mommy??"
This isn't the first time mortality has come up. A few months back poor Finny got tearful talking about death. Things got pretty heavy until he blurted, "A-a-and, we won't get to eat any dinosaur meat!"
