In a restaurant, the waitress asked our children what they wanted for dinner. Each of the children made a selection. My wife asked the server about the “catch of the day”. After hearing the description, she ordered it. I thought this sounded appealing, so when I was asked for my order, I said, “I think I’ll have the same thing as well.” After the waitress left with the orders, my 10 year old daughter said, “Not much of an individualist, are you ?” “How on earth did you know that word”, I asked. “Well, duh”, she said. “individual means a person, doesn’t it?”

On vacation, a boy at the hotel swimming pool struck up a conversation with us. He had 3 older sisters and no brothers. We have 3 boys and one girl (the youngest). As we hurried through the airport a few days later, my daughter remarked (apropos of nothing) how lucky the boy was to have 3 sisters, while she herself had none. “I wish I had a sister”, she said. “You really kind of dropped the ball in the creating kids department.” After we passed 3 or 4 gates in the airport, a bit of self-realization crept in. “But then I wouldn’t be your onliest daughter, would I?” “No,” I answered, “you wouldn’t”. Another brief pause. “Well, I guess we could just treat the kid like a bag of dirt,” she said. As I tried to regain my mental orientation, we continued towards our gate. “Why is it that a red-headed stepchild gets treated worse than blond-haired step children?”, she said. “Good question,” I said.

The theme of being the only girl was a recurring one. A few years earlier, my daughter was urging my wife to have another baby in order to provide her with a younger sister. We explained that a) this was perhaps not a particularly good reason to bring another life into the world, and b) there were certainly be no guarantee that she would get a sister instead of a brother. “Well,” she said. “I’ll tell you what I would be doing if I found out it was a boy. Packing a suitcase”.

In a jewelry store, my wife purchased a small polished “worry stone” for me. Made of jasper, the shape was intended to allow the user to rub it between thumb and forefinger. My wife thought it might provide an alternative to fidgeting or worrying my cuticles. ”Here,” said my daughter, “let me show you how to use it. “Oh-my-God, the bills, the bills!” she said as she rubbed the stone, a terrified expression on her face. “Thanks”, I said.

My daughter is very good at selecting presents for people. She manages to make a mental note to herself throughout the year whenever someone in the family mentions something they like or wish they had. She can then recall the treasured item months later and surprise someone with a gift they had forgotten they wanted. As I was sitting at my desk a few weeks before father’s day, she pulled up a chair. With a legal pad on her lap, legs crossed, she said, “We need to take a meeting”. “Fine”, I said. “I’m making a father’s day list for you”, she said. “How about computer thingies – you seem to like those – any ideas?” “Sorry,” I said, “I’ve pretty much got all the computer stuff I need, except a set of speakers, and they’re too expensive.” “You’re a tough guy to shop for”, she said, “ so I’m going to put them down, but I’m going to have to write ‘expensive’ next to it”, she said. Gesturing towards the bookshelves, she said “How about some more books?” “I Can’t think of any I want right now,” I said. After a few more minutes of this, she read from the legal pad with my half-rimmed glasses perched on her 10 year old nose. “Alrighty – I’ve got you down for socks (everybody needs those), expensive computer speakers, a belt (mom said you need a new one), and a CD.” The was a pause. “I’ve got it”, she exclaimed. “I thought of something you don’t have, and you really need!” “What’s that,” I asked? “A toupee!” she said happily. “Get out,” I said.

My daughter and I were driving home from school before Christmas break, “You know, she said, “ I really like the first day or two of school, but after that it’s all downhill”. I made a noncommittal comment. “Erick will be home soon”, she said, referring to her 23 year old brother in college. “ I wish he could go to school with me, but he’ll probably go with Ryan (her 16 year old brother) instead. He wants to make sure Ryan is getting his homework done, and not just goofing off all the time”. “ Did you talk to Erick the other night on the telephone,” I asked? “Yeah”, she said, “ he was talking to Ryan first, but Ryan got tired of Erick telling him to turn in his assignments and homework, so he handed the phone to me”, she said. “Well”, I said, “Ryan could avoid all that by just doing his homework and assignments on time” She looked out the car window for a few seconds. “Well”, she said, “That’s one option, but it sure eats into your free time”.

Colby had to wear braces for about 2 years. She could hardly wait for the day they were to be removed. When she came home with a big smile on her face, I said, “you look great!” “Thanks”, she said. There was a pause. “When I first got braces, Erick called me ‘metal mouth’ for a couple of months. Ryan called me ‘brace face’, and Chase just said I was even uglier. They’ll probably say the same kind of mean stuff now that my braces are off. Oh well, I’ll just take it as their way of saying I look great!” she said with her usual optimistic outlook. There was another brief pause. “Welcome to a girl’s world”, she said with a wry smile.

On a recent family trip, we drove by the house in which our son (age 19) was born. Somehow, the conversation shifted around to the embarrassing fact that my wife and I were not yet married at the time he was born. “Did you have to get married because of him,” asked my daughter? “No, we got married because we loved each other, not because we had to,” said my wife. “So, what you’re saying is that you were basically a ‘W-H-O-R-E”, said my daughter.

One vacation, we went to a lake. We rented a boat to use for skiing and tubing. It turned out to be quite difficult to climb up onto the inner tube in the water. It kept tipping and tilting, and would routinely flip just when you saw he had made it on top of it. The only person could successfully on top of the tube was our son, Chase. My daughter, as yet only observing the process, expressed her belief that it was simply advanced age and poor lack of athletic prowess that made it difficult for us to get on top of the inner tube. When her turn came, she swam straight out to the two, and attempted to pull herself up on top of it. It immediately flipped over, rendering her no longer visible beneath the up side down in her two. There was a dramatic cause. Then, quietly, you could hear her voice emanating out from under the upturned tube. “So, I guess I will be needing a little bit of help here”.

The family took a trip to Bloomington, Indiana, where my son Ryan would begin his first year of college. We ate dinner in a Greek restaurant that night. Remarking over how nice the campus was, at what a beautiful setting the town was located in, I asked my daughter and other son, Chase, if they might not be interested in eventually attending college here as well. (They were ages 12 and 13 at the time.) Chase demurred, noting that it was a long way off until he would need to decide where to go for college. My daughter however, referred our attention back to the list and she had constructed several years ago of the top 10 colleges she had planned to attend (see figure). The colleges on the list had included Oxford, Cambridge, MIT, Caltech, Harvard, Princeton, et cetera. She informed us that she had no intention of going in such a pedestrian place as Indiana University, although she did concede that the campus was quite nice. “And there isn’t a chance in the world of you ever going to one of those schools ,” said Chase. “Oh, is that right?” said Colby. “I have straight A’s don’t I?” “Yeah, in seventh grade”, said Chase. “Well, I can’t do any better than A’s,”, she said. “I’ll tell you where you’re going to college,” said Colby. “The Johnson County community college is where you’re going,” she said. This referred to a small two-year college located near our home. “Communication arts last semester… am I ringing any bells?”, she said. (Chase had not performed well in this class). There was a pause in the conversation. “What’s wrong with Johnson County community college” said Chase? “They have a great tennis court, an outdoor swimming pool, an indoor swimming pool, and a whole bunch of cool basketball courts”, he said. There was another pause. “You moron,” said Colby. “That is the Jewish Community Center.” “Whatever,” said he.

My wife was often concerned about my eating habits (a sweet tooth), and was worried that the children would either inherit this tendency, or develop it by association. Thus, on occasion, I would hide snack foods and so as not to incur her wrath. On one occasion, I purchased some cookies and hid them in the highest possible cupboard in the kitchen. Since I am 6 foot 4 inches, and my wife is barely 5 feet tall, I thought this would be very safe hiding place. My daughter, who shared my sweet tooth, had been to the store with me and know to where I hid the cookies. I warned her not to let her mother know where they were, and promised that she could share some of them later. Since supper would be ready soon, I told her that we could not eat any of them yet. I went upstairs to do some paperwork in my office. Perhaps a half an hour later, I heard noise downstairs as my wife returned home with food she had purchased for supper. Shortly thereafter, I heard raised voices, and then the sound of my daughter crying and wailing. At the time she was about six years of age. She then appeared at my office door, tears streaming down her face. “What’s wrong, honey?” I asked. “Me and my big mouth,” she said. “What are you talking about,” I asked? “Well”, she said, “I got a little bit hungry, so I pushed a chair over, climbed up, and ate some of the cookies. And then, like an idiot, and mom got home, I told her I ate them. Now I’m grounded.” “You are an idiot” I said. “Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?” I can went downstairs and convinced my wife that perhaps she had been a little harsh. The grounding was eventually rescinded. In the midst of all this fuss, my wife had neglected to inquire precisely where the cookies were hidden. I forgot about them for the rest of the evening, but about noon the next day, decided that I deserved a cookie or two. My son and daughter were in the kitchen, drawing pictures at the kitchen table. I went over to the cupboard, opened it, and found an empty container of cookies. I noticed that my daughter was studiously avoiding looking at me. As I walked over towards her, she looked up and said with a broad grin, “yup, I gobbled up every one of them”.

I walked into the kitchen one evening to hear my daughter telling my wife that she had gotten the highest grade in class by 20 or 30 percentage points. Unthinkingly, I inquired as to what class this might be. “Science”, she said. “Excellent-good job” I said. “What were you studying?” “Genital herpes” she said. “Let me tell you all about it.” “No thanks”, I said. “I learned all about that stuff in medical school.” “Oh, at your age you’ve probably forgotten most of that”, she said. “Anyway, they showed us a picture of a giant wang, with a bunch of black hair-like some kind of a shrubbery-all around it. It was purple. And we learned about the urethra, the fallopian tubes, the clitoris-the tingly thing, and the cervix. Do you know what the cervix does?” She asked. “Yes, I already know that”, I said firmly. Ignoring me completely, she said, “it’s kind of a circular muscular thingy that tightens up when you’re pregnant, and keeps the baby from just whoosh -flying out of there when you’re walking around the room.” “Very useful,” I said.

A friend who is an avid hunter visited our house. He waxed on at great length about the joys of the hunting experience, producing pictures of himself and friends taken all over the world, with action shots and pictures of the “trophy” carcasses. My daughter, expressed her extreme discussed with this display as soon as he had left. I pointed out the hypocrisy of eating hamburgers and chicken sandwiches and wearing animal derivative clothing (belts, shoes) to her, to no avail. “And,” I said, “he’s a very nice person.” “He deserves to be drowned in a toilet,” She said.

On a recent trip with the entire family, we all heard a loud noise emanating from the backseat. Immediately shouts of, “Oh no, roll down the windows!” were heard from the boys. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see a large grin on my 13 year old daughter’s face. “Let the games begin”, she said.

When my daughter was about six years of age, she would often refuse to go to to the bathroom in a public place – stores, restaurants, etc. I simply attributed this to the “shy bladder syndrome”. However, on one occasion, she finally confessed that “I hate those automatic flush thingies on toilets – you move a little bit and WHOOSH! – they go off. For many years she would pause in front of bathroom entrances and public and loudly asked “so is this one automatic, or not?”

At about 10 or 11 years of age, my daughter went with her mother to the doctor for a routine physical exam. After taking her vital signs and performing a routine history and physical examination, the doctor spent some time going over the things a young girl might expect to occur during puberty – breast bud development, menstrual cycles, changing body shape, etc. “Now honey,” said the pediatrician, “do you have any questions for me?” “No,” said my daughter “I’d just like to go somewhere and puke.”

When my daughter was about three or four years of age, her older brother was a big fan of the television series “Seinfeld”. Presumably because of their young age, my daughter and younger son had never paid any attention to the show, nor so far as my wife and I knew, watched it. one evening during family dinner, my daughter To pushing food around on her plate, mixing it up, and generally being disruptive. Additionally, she did not appear to be eating any of her dinner. “Colby,” said my wife, “you’re not eating any of your dinner. Didn’t you and I have a long talk earlier about not eating snacks before dinner”? The discussion became somewhat more heated, as my wife became increasingly irritated with her stubborn daughter. Suddenly, my daughter jumped up one to her chair, bringing her face up to about the level of my wife’s, had she been standing. “Do you want a piece of me, Lady”, said Colby? “I’ll drop you like a bag of dirt!”

Perhaps as a result of global warming, it was unseasonably hot one summer. My wife, while shopping, had purchased a white long billed cap, and a white “tennis outfit” to wear. A few days later, we were all preparing to go to the awards dinner for my daughter’s softball team. After taking a shower, my wife your walked into the living room wearing her new outfit. My daughter looked at her and with teenage disdain, said, “Is there some reason you decided to go to this dressed as an egg?” she said.

When my son Ryan was about three or four years of age, I had just come out of the shower and Edwin shaving in front to owe the mirror in our bathroom. The door burst open and, and he walked in. Self-consciously, I immediately grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself. He proceeded to grab a toothpaste container, and started to leave the room. At the door, he stopped and turned. “Dad,” he said, “how come you have such a huge pee-pee?” A beaming with inner pride, I tried to explain. “Well,” I said, “as you get older you get bigger. You get taller, your legs get longer, and every part of your body grows.” Seemingly satisfied with this spur of the moment, perfectly benign explanation, he turned to leave. Without a trace of humor, he said, “I guess your butt must get a lot bigger too.” My mood was ruined.

Enough white folks around here

The kid
Don’t need a haircut in a million years