36 States then Hawaii

Maine is a long, long way from New York and Queens. Most car games did not work to keep M-ito occupied.

Who am I?  - too boring.

Rhyming games from my improv days? – I don’t feel like it.

M-ito gets car sick so reading, movies, quilting, drawing, anything that requires him to look at something other than the passing scenery won’t work.

But… the licence plate game – now that was different. We took two days travelling up, staying in New Hampshire night one and ending up in Bar Harbor day two and the reverse on the way back soem eleven days later. Looking out for different state licence plates actually kept us all going when eyes were tired and tempers flared.

“Have we seen North Dakota yet?”

“YYYEEEESSSS.”

We got California early and Alaska (2x) and most of the east coast then started to work our way out west. we dontinued the game on throughout the whole vacation, spotting cars in the parking lot where the Champlain Mountain trail started and in down town Bar Harbor at the Pizza and a Movie show parking lot. Honestly we thought we’d never get Hawaii. We even talked about the odds of getting all 50 states in one trip and how Hawaii would be the impossible one. How could you find a car from there out here on the east coast.

But at a rest stop in Connecticut, only 45 minutes from home and the end of our vacation, as we were pulling out of the parking lot I saw something that looked like a rainbow on a plate out of the corner of my eye – at licence plate level on a white van. I decided to turn left instead of right, as we were heading out of the parking lot.

“What are you doing, Dad-dito,” Mom-ita said as I turned to go out the longer way.

“I thought I saw something,” I said.

We stopped in front of a family sitting inside of a van and whooped and hollared as we stared at them and their Hawaii plate. High-5s fluttered left and right. The van owners stared at us for a moment then must have realized what it was we had seen in their car. The licence plate game must be a game played everywhere – either that or they are used to being spotted. They waved and smiled back at us, nodding. Yes, we’re from Hawaii.

Oh yeah. Our list follows. Compare it to yours on your next trip up and back.

1. New York
2. New Jersey
3. Deleware
4. Pennsylvania
5. Connecticut
6. Rhode Island
7. Massachusets
8. Vermont
9. New Hampshire
10. Maine
11. Virginia
12. Washington DC
13. Washington
14. California
15. Ohio
16. Kentucky
17. Tennesee
18. Georgia
19. South Carolina
20. North Carolina
21. Florida
22. Illinois
23. Indiana
24. Missouri
25. Michigan
26. Maryland
27. Texas
28. Louisiana
29. Minnesota
30. New Mexico
31. Arizona
32. Alaska
33. Wisconsin
34. Oklahoma
35. North Dakota
36. Iowa
37. Hawaii

Just for the heck of it we also saw 4 Canadian states: Nova Scotia, Quebec, Ontario, and New Brunswick.

An Aisle Seat

Each movie we go to see I think it will be different, but it’s not. It’s okay. I don’t mind a lot, but I do a little. If I’m being honest with myself -I do. On the other hand I do like to go to movies and it is the only way we get to go. I’m movie starved because I have a six-year old. I’m so starved I salivate at the thought of a good animated film. Okay, okay, I did the same thing before M-ito was born. I like animated films – always have – only now I have someone to see them with. So this is good.

Here’s the deal. We went to see Beverly Hills Chichuaua on my birthday. We watched the first half hour in our seats, with M-ito peeking through my fingers whenever he got scared – which was often. But I really shouldn’t say he got scared. It’s more like he got afraid for the characters (not wanting anything bad to happen to them), not necessarily afraid for himself. My son is very empathetic. He worries about people he comes to care about whether they’re dogs, animated characters, film characters, or real humans. We then get up, say, “excuse me,” to all the people we have to pass by to get from our seats to the aisle, then head towards the exit. We watch the rest of the movie alternating between the space in front of the exit doors and the top of the ramp leading to the seats. There’s a banister along the wall we use for support. I go down on one knee and M-ito sits on my other.

“Do you want to go back to the seats?” I ask.

M-ito shakes his head.

My knees complain but I try not to. I take a few deep breaths and settle in. I see about 80% of the film. I enjoy it. When it’s over, M-ito says he enjoyed it but maybe we should wait to see it on DVD again.

I know the sound bothers him – dolby stereo is great for adults but not for little kids. It overwhelms them and scares them. I can still remember getting the chills when dolby first came out and I watched Alien in a movie theatre in Syosset and heard the tinkling of chains behind me and to the sides just before the Alien took another victim. It scared me as an adult. I know Beverly Hills Chihuaua is not Alien but the sound works just as effectively when an angry dog growls or barks. We all jumped a little in our respective seats. I think the screen is too big – overwhelming and towering. So just to tally things up it’s the screen and the sound and the scary bits worrying about the main characters – the important ones, not the minor ones whom we don’t care about. At least that’s how M-ito explains it to me.

Back at home, we’ve watched Star Wars I, IV, V, and VI about a dozen times each - Clone Wars twice that number of times. M-ito can repeat lines of the movie verbatim.

Yesterday M-ito said, “Can we see Hotel for Dogs?” It’s a new family film that just came out. We saw a preview for it at the movies when we saw Chihuaua.

“Sure,” I say. I’m looking forward to my aisle seat.

I have to poop

Momita and I were both working this morning in Manhattan at my office. I left earlier because I had the earlier start time. I got M-ito dressed and left him at the breakfast table eating corn flakes while Momita ran in to take a shower. I got to work and saw a text message.

“He had to poop at 8am.”

I could picture it. One foot out the door when M-ito said the four words every time-conscious, trying to get your child to school so you can get to work – parent dreads to hear. “I have to poop.”

So Momita gets to work and tells me at a break that, after yelling at each other and crying – after pooping of course because you just can’t rush the poop – M-ito said to her, “Mommi, You cannot always be early in life.”

You cannot always be early in life. Words of wisdom, son, words of wisdom.

First Grade Stress

My son has too much homework, a test every week on spelling words, and a stomach ache from the stress. I know it’s only his first week in school, but this is a private school and first graders should still be playing most of the time. They’re only six years old, and some are still only 5. 

Even if his teacher didn’t say the word test, and she didn’t (a parent did) the students heard the word test and now everyone knows they have a test every week. Why can’t it just be an in-class worksheet? At six the most stressful decision a child should have to make during his/her day is what to have for lunch or which game to play. And M-ito is so good – in the I-have-to-do-everything-my-teacher-says meaning of the word good – that he will not give up until all the homework is completed. Why does he have homework everyday the first week of school? Why does he say school is not fun anymore when he loved kindergarten? I’m crushed and annoyed and angry because there are so many ways to learn imaginatively in first grade. Kids imaginations are on overdrive at this age and this creativity should be kindled. Osho, in his book on Creativity says we extinguish creativity in our children at an early age in school. I wonder if he is right. I’m overreacting to some degree, I know, I know, but I’m not to another. I have no doubt that M-ito will learn to read and write and spell and do math in time. I’m not worried about that. He’s a bright child. I have no doubt he will want to get good grades in high school when ranking and grade point average have meaning to colleges. But right now, in first grade, where he doesn’t get letter or number grades and where gpa stands for great paper airplanes and is a mere shadow of what’s to come in the far far future, I want him to enjoy learning because it’s fun with a capital F. 

Nay-sayers say “but he has to learn about the real world someday.” And I say sure, but not today at 6 years old. He can wait ’till fourth grade at least. There was a great article in Mothering Magazine last month about the ineffectiveness of homework – how it doesn’t help kids learn and mostly just turns them off on school and creates tremendous amounts of stress for kids and their parents. 

Today my son said he’s stressed about his weekly test on spelling. He’s only had one so far and he’s already feeling it. I’m banging my head against the wall here. Why do so many parents believe in the myth of more work equals more learning? Have they seen the DOE’s graduation rate lately in NYC? It’s not even 50% from high school. Have they looked a the test scores? Have they gone up due to the No Child Left Behind act and it’s fallout of standardized testing at earlier and earlier ages? The clear answer is no. School should be fun. Learning should be fun. Children should enjoy learning and develop a lifelong relationship with education – a positive relationship with education – not one based on stress and fear. 

My son is stressed and he was crying this morning because he didn’t want to go to school today. He said his stomach hurt – not enough to go to the doctors but enough to stay out of school. Then, after many tears Mom-ita got him talking and we found out his story of stress and woe. Mom-ita talked to his teacher (I am traveling today and have to get things second hand through her after M-ito is asleep) and we were left hopeful but apprehensive. Our son only gets to go through first grade once. I’m proud of him for telling us how he felt and I’m proud he brought it up to his teacher in school on his own (Mom-ita was told this by his teacher). But I’d still rather there was no homework and no testing at all. At least not this year, or next. Heck the Waldorf Schools don’t give homework until fourth grade. Unfortunately they’re not in our neighborhood or nearby for that matter and there are some problems with the cult-like nature of their curricula… I guess nothings perfect.

Stand-up Guy

We’re walking home from school and it’s raining. My umbrella covers us both. M-ito is upset because we can’t go to the park and play with his friends Jo-ita and Ski-lita.

“Why can’t we go to the park?” he asks.

“I told you – because it’s raining. M-ito they won’t be at the park either. It’s raining out.”

We walk in silence for a while, then M-ito looks up at me. I have to shift the umbrella a little to the right to cover him some more.

“Dad-dito, can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” I say.

“Well… ” he begins. “Jo-ita and Ski-lita told me there were two kids who were bothering them at the park. And I told them I’d go and help protect them. Can you take me to the park on another day?”

“How old are the kids and what are they doing to the girls?”

“They are 5 and 6, like us and they’re bothering them. Jo-ita and Ski-lita said they bother them when they’re playing.”

“They asked you to help them?”

“No. I told them I’d help them. That I’d protect them.” He clenched his hands into fists and put a determined look on his face.

“Don’t you think the mothers should take care of this?”

“Can I go to the park?”

“Sure, I’ll take you. But you have after-school classes tomorrow and the next day is swim class and Monday is after school so I can’t take you until Tuesday.”

“Is that soon?”

“Five days.”

M-ito counted to five on his fingers, then nodded, seemingly satisfied.

Tuesday came and I couldn’t take M-ito because of work at my office, but Mom-ita went instead. She told me there was a lot of posturing, laughing, running, and chasing going on, but that seemed to be about it. M-ito had a great time and seemed satisfied.

I’m still not sure what happened. Perhaps one day someone will tell me.

Liopleurodon on the Loose

M-ito’s friends Noito and Celito’s grandmother has died. It’s just past one year since M-ito’s Gran has died and we can all feel the echo.

M-ito asks me, “Dad-dito, do you believe you were an animal when you were alive before?”

“What do you mean?” I ask. We’re sitting at M and V’s eating egg sandwiches.

“Well… do you believe we were alive as other animals and creatures before we were humans?”

“A lot of people believe that,” I say.

“But do you believe it?”

“Yes, I do,” I say. “You’ll have to ask Mom-ita to see if she does – but I don’t think she does. Me, I believe that, when we die, our soul or spirit is reborn sas another person or creature depending on what kind of life we lived. If we live a good life, are kind to others, treat people well, we come back as better people. If we don’t we come back as not-so-nice people or unpleasant creatures. That’s called karma.”

“I don’t really want to know about karma.”

“Okay.” We eat for a while and stare out the big window looking out over 37th Avenue. It’s cold out and a few snow flakes drift by. 

“I think,” M-ito says, “that I was a liopleurodon during the dinosaur times and that’s why I’m so good at swimming now.”

I nod, realization dawning on me. “I bet you were.”

M-ito smiles and takes a bite of his sandwich, a modern day liopleurodon snacking on eggs, cheese, bacon, and sesame bagel with a side of orange juice. 

Abe Lincoln Day

“What did you learn about today, M-ito?” I asked on our way to get Pizza after school. The snow was coming down hard with a covering of snow on the sidewalk.

“Well… we learned about Abe Lincoln because it’s his birthday today.”

“What did you learn about him?”

“Do you know about him?”

I nodded. “Can you tell me?”

“Sure. Abe, what was his name again?”

“Lincoln.”

“Lincoln. Well, he was the sixteenth president of the United States and he freed the slaves.”

“You know what slaves are?” I asked.

“We learned all about them. You see, back then white people from the bottom part of the United States thought they were smarter than black people so they put them on ships from Africa and brought them here and owned them. The white people made them do all the hard work. They weren’t allowed to wear shoes and they were given water but no bread. They weren’t given any good food. They were called the bare-foots and the white people were the heavy-boots.”

“It was pretty mean wasn’t it.”

“Yeah, it was. We played slaves in class with Ms. S an owner and the rest of us pretending to be slaves in chains. Ms. A played one of us and we all escaped. But you know what they did to slaves when they escaped?”

“What?”

“If slaves escaped they got whipped – just like when someone whips a horse. It hurts them a lot. Whips shouldn’t be made then because they hurt people like that.”

“I agree. So what else do you know about Abe Lincoln?”

“Well there was a man, named William Boom – “

“Boom?”

“Boom. And when Abe Lincoln was at a theatre watching a play William Boom came up to him – snuck up on him – and shooted him with a gun.”

“Shooted?”

“Shooted. He killed him. Dad-dito?”

“What M-ito.”

“Is William Boom still here?”

“No. He died a long time ago.”

“Okay.”

Later that night, M-ito repeated the whole story for Mom-ita.

“You remember when you learned about Martin Luthor King?” she asked M-ito.He nodded.

“Well one hundred years later and the blacks were still fighting for their rights here in the United States.”

“Yeah. That’s right. “ 

I could see my son’s mind at work connecting dots on a large poster-board of life. For once I was home to see and hear it.

Socks Redux

After a month of complaining about socks that were too tight I bought M-ito socks that were big on him – at least two sizes. He wore them on and off for two weeks. A few days ago he finally admitted they were too big.

“These socks are a little big,” were his exact words.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

He nodded.

I got closure on the sock episode. I never would have believed it. He still refuses to put his socks one unless he’s by the front door, but I got closure. 

Why is it …

Why is it M-ito can’t get up for school at 7am every weekday but come Saturday morning he’s up at 6am?Why is it M-ito says, “Just one more minute,” on these very same weekdays when I try to get him up, and “Dad-dito, Mom-ita, wake up!” on Saturday mornings? Why is it M-ito never wants to take a bath but once he’s in the bathtub he doesn’t want to come out?Why is it M-ito loves a food (kiwis, strawberries, oatmeal, eggs) only until it’s in front of him – then he hates it. Why is it M-ito never fights with other kids at school and always does what his teachers say – but at home we fight over brushing teeth, taking a bath, going to bed, eating dinner, putting on socks, putting on a hat, getting shoes on, saying goodbye, saying hello, reading books, peeing, and washing hands before meals? 

What My Son Eats

A five-year old’s diet.Breakfast:

eggs (only crambled or hard boiled – though not the yolk – and scrambled with ketchup only)

oatmeal with raisins (I hide the raisins and he finds them and eats them with some oatmeal but leaves the oatmeal when the raisins are all done)

waffles (only the mini-kind)

pancakes

OJ

toast

guarnitas from the Columbian bakery

bunny love cold cereal

strawberries

mango

Lunch and or Dinner:

peanut butter and jelly sandwich

sliced turkey or chicken sandwich

grilled cheese

mac and cheese

spagetti and meatballs (no sauce)

grilled chicken or tandoori chicken (not the spicy part)

broccoli (sometimes)

cauliflower

pizza plain or with chicken or with mushroom

mushrooms of any sort

rice

salmon terriyaki

hot dogs 

Food he’ll Eat Anytime:

icecream

cookies

brownies

chocolate cake

jello (this is new)

candy (but especially M&Ms and Chocolate Kisses, and lollipops)

I’m sure I forgot something. Mom-ita will just have to remind me.