Theory of (Dance Dance) Revolution

At a gathering at Hassan and Michelle’s, the kids and the kids at heart danced—then danced again—toward a revolution.

Let It Sew!

Last night we attended a holiday fundraiser that’s organized by a local social service agency. We came with friends for the festivities, fun, and food but got even more in return: Olivia and I got our names in the newspaper. Here’s an excerpt of the article in which we were mentioned:

Four-year-old Olivia K. sang “Jingle Bells” into the microphone. Olivia’s father, Chris K. of [our hometown], said the festival is a “great way to jumpstart the holidays. And it’s for such a good cause.”

The [previously named] nonprofit agency serves more than 1,000 families every year with residential treatment, family and community services and academic services for children.

The goal for this year’s festival is $170,000.

Olivia said her favorite part of the festival was telling her holiday wishes to Santa Claus. She said she told him that for her the greatest gift of all would be a sewing machine. [Ha! What a stitch!]

Hump Day

The Camel

The camel has a single hump,
The dromedary two,
Or else the other way around;
I'm never sure, are you?

Ogden Nash

Olivia: "Camel, camel. Daddy, caaa-MULL!"

Me: "Why are you saying ‘camel,’ Olivia?"

Olivia: "Because I love you."

Me: "I love you too, sweetie. But what’s with all the camels?"

Olivia: "It means ‘I love you’ in Spanish."

Me: "Oh…te amo."

Olivia: "Yup. Camel."

Me: "Camel too, Olivia."

Never a Doll Moment

Kenneth and Mamie Clark were married psychologists famous for their doll studies that demonstrated the ways racism seeped into the psyches of young black children. Their experiments tested perceptions of race, and their findings—that black kids seemed to prefer white dolls over black ones—were cited in Brown v. Board of Education, the landmark Supreme Court decision that ruled public-school segregation unconstitutional.

Fast-forward fifty-plus years and you’ll still find how dolls can help demonstrate prevailing racial beliefs and assumptions. Our daughter—she of three races—is old enough to know that people are often categorized by certain physical characteristics but too young to understand all that lies beneath that scratched surface. And so when she picks up her favorite doll, the thought may cross her mind that her baby’s skin is darker than her own, but that’s the extent of it.

Olivia’s decided recently to bring her baby doll with her most every time we’re out, including to school (and restaurants). The other day, two teachers discovered the doll lying alone on a table and began searching for its parent. Olivia, seeing that her doll had been found, spoke up to claim her baby. “Is this really your baby?” the teachers asked. Yes, insisted Olivia. "Really?" they inquired. Yes, she nodded.

When I asked her to speculate as to why the teachers had asked her repeatedly whether the doll was actually hers, Olivia relayed that they were just making sure because her name wasn’t written anywhere on the doll. Of course…my sentiment inexactly. (I am prone toward cynicism far too often.)

It’s at a moment like this when I’m reminded of the preciousness of youthful innocence.

Give Me Bubble Tea or Give Me Death

At this point, I half expect my family and friends to hold an intervention on my behalf. My addiction? The sweet allure of boba tea—aka bubble tea—a tea beverage served with gelatinous tapioca pearls.

How bad has it gotten? Well, our local tea house has a customer loyalty program—a free beverage after ten paid drinks—which I have cashed in on so often that I’d be entitled to a free drink on all my free drinks, if management happened to be so generous.

I find myself craving bubble teas more than I ever did coffee drinks, but fortunately for our pocketbook and my waistline, the shops serving these ambrosial (and highly caloric) beverages are much more difficult to find—at least where we live—than the innumerable places offering cups of joe.

Blast from the Past

This happened back in February around Valentine’s Day. Olivia had inquired why the helium-filled heart balloon in our living room was becoming more earthbound with each passing day.

Me: "Olivia, do you know what's in a balloon that makes it float?"

O: "No."

Me: "Well, it's a gas called helium. Can you say 'helium'?"

O: "HEE-lee-yum. It's a gas? Just like my farts?"

Hoping for Smooth Sale-ing

Our charming, well cared for, conveniently located, historic home gets launched into the housing market’s choppy waters on this day. Here’s to a bon voyage.

Never-Never Landscape

After several failed landscaping projects in the past, I vowed to never attempt another one again. Ha. I should have never said never, especially since we’re looking to boost our home’s curb appeal. (We’re putting our house up for sale this week.) Fortunately for me, I have a child who loves to help out with this sort of work.

Dancing Around: the Subject

Olivia is enrolled in a tap and ballet class through our local parks & rec department, but like most things we sign her up for, she’s yet to fully participate in the activities. In this case, I think it’s about expectations not meeting reality: she probably came into this thinking “Dancing With the Stars” or “America’s Best Dance Crew,” but knows now that hard work precedes fancy feet.

Gender Studies

Prior to taking our firstborn to the ultrasound appointment that would reveal the baby’s sex, we asked her if she knew how we would be able to make the distinction. She nodded in the affirmative, stating that seeing a peanuts would equal boy, while the sight of a ‘gina would signify a girl.

For those who haven’t heard yet, here’s what we saw:

We’re looking forward to welcoming our little peanut—his peanuts occluded in the above profile—to our family in early April.

The Day the World Became More Hopeful

It’s been shown that people often vote for candidates with whom they identify most. So perhaps it should come as no surprise that both Beni and I, being biracial, identified with the junior senator from Illinois early on. Fortunately for us, his worldview is quite simpatico with ours.

And so it brought us great hope—yes, hope—that this country we love so dearly and its citizens accomplished this most historic feat. To borrow liberally (pun intended) from our friends on the right (Palin and the plumber included), we put our country first, and along the way, created a first for our country.

Political party: Obamaniacs at an Obama-rama

Gift of for the Maggie

The circle that Olivia runs with at school is actually a triangle: there’s our child, Tianna, and Maggie. Their teacher calls them “The Three Musketeers.” Tianna can be real hot and cold—one day telling Olivia that she’s her best friend, the next day relaying that they’re no longer friends. Maggie, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to engage in such games. And so that explains why one of them got a card and the other one didn’t.

Some close-ups: