To Air Is Human

Noah, Olivia’s friend who lives near the big city, celebrated his birthday at an indoor play area that was filled with air-filled play stations (think the next generation of the moonbounce standard at those creepy traveling carnivals). There were obstacle courses, slides, and most strangely, a pugilist ring, where young children are encouraged to don protective headgear and gloves so that they can “safely” pummel each other with a giant stick while balancing on a small, elevated platform.

Man-About-Gown

Four years ago, I commenced a Master’s in English program; this evening, I participated in the commencement ceremony. I’m so relieved to have made it to this both literal and figurative stage. Graduate school had really become gradual school by the end. Furthermore, I was so convinced that I’d not passed my comprehensive exams that I’d let pass the deadline for ordering graduation garb. And so ensuring that the cap and gown would arrive in time for the ceremony was as nerve-racking as waiting for my exam results. (For the record, I took possession of the regalia at 4:01 p.m.—I had to meet the UPS driver at a local bank—giving me a comfortable two hours to straighten up before the ceremony.)

Mad props for her glad/grad pops

Fowl Mood

Today was to be a festive occasion at preschool: moms were invited to stop in shortly after the kids ate their lunch for a muffins and musical medley. Beni reported that the baked goods were tasty and the songs were lovely, but also that our daughter was disconsolate on the way home.

Olivia explained that a couple of her so-called friends continued on with their manipulative charade of “you are/aren’t my friend today.” Based on her dispirited disposition, she must not have passed muster on this day. And to add insult to injury, she told us that the lunch staff had forgotten that she was a vegetarian and served her a chicken quesadilla. She thought it was made with soy chicken—we often pack her a lunch of veggie “meats”—but realized it wasn’t when it tasted “yucky.”

False Idol

Jason Castro, the dreadful dreads-full one, was finally given the boot from American Idol last night, not entirely unsurprising given his uninspiring versions of classics by the Bobs—Marley and Dylan. Having missed the results show, we turned to the computer for answers, and got this pithy insight from our daughter in the process:

“Jason’s on the computer now because he forgot the lyrics to that one song.”

National Dialogue on Race

Slight amendment here: I meant “National Dialogue on a Race”—the human race—or rather, a race involving humans. I’ll leave the heavy stuff for Barack Obama.

Today marked the four-point-something-mile race by the pond we call a lake just north of town. Beni’s been diligently training for the race with a running group for weeks now; I’ve been there for moral support and to serve as a training partner on occasion. Running together on race day, we weathered high winds and occasional sprinkles to finish at a pace that was faster than Beni had been registering throughout her training sessions.

I wasn’t sure if my post-race chest aches were from my lungs having to work harder than usual or from my heart bursting forth with pride for Beni—you must know that my wife is someone whose only other race experience was from when she was in elementary school, and who on the first day of her training likened running to death.

Child’s Play-Doh

Olivia presented her mother with an early—and in the words of Simon Cowell, “utterly bizarre”—birthday cake made of Play-Doh to go with the side of wooden toast.

Fave Five

Me: "Olivia, what do you think Max dreams about?"

Olivia: "Oh, he dreams about mayo."

Me: "Okay…what do you dream about?"

Olivia: "I dream about rainbows, flowers, ice cream, museum, and story hour."

Kat's Ciao

Katrina, Beni’s good friend from our high school days, came to visit over the weekend. She’s the oldest of three girls, and so her position in the birth order gave her plenty of experience entertaining her younger siblings as they were growing up. That experience came in handy today: Olivia hounded Kat to play games and color pictures with her from the moment she woke up.

Kat did such a masterful job engaging Olivia in activities that our daughter gave her a three-hugs-and-a-kiss sendoff—normally reserved for family members only—as she was leaving our home for hers.

Previously on Lost

We’ve finally located Laga, Olivia’s beloved and long-lost stuffed bear. He’d gone missing around the time of the TV writers strike in the fall but reemerged shortly after Lost fans learned of the identities of the Oceanic Six this spring. Coincidence? Of course it is.

Nonstandard Quote

An instant classic from dinner:

“I feel like my heart wants to be your daughter.”

(Make sense, it doesn’t, but make my day, it most certainly does!)

Virtual Cereality

We’ve been consuming an exorbitant amount of cereal this week so that we can give over the boxes to Olivia’s preschool for their school project. Apparently the other families got the same memo from last week: Mike the Builder had enough material to get most of the house built yesterday. (Note: We certainly hope that our collective demand for Puffed Wheat, Corn Flakes, Rice Krispies, etc., did not contribute somehow to the spike in prices for food staples.)

Scopin’ Faced Sandwich

I have a picture now of our Girl of Sandwich.