Miscellaneous

Salon has a great article on kids' music and the fact that more and more former rockers are getting in on the act. Which, for those of us with children, is great news. I mean, I guess there are some adults who genuinely enjoy Barney, but I haven't met any. And I'm not sure I want to.

Vicki's dad is visiting for a few days; we hadn't seen him since Thanksgiving, but he arrived bearing all sorts of Thomas swag and Samson very quickly warmed to "Grimpa."

Which is good, because he got a little extra time with Grandpa yesterday while Vicki visited the school she'll be at in the fall when she returns to work.

I came home at lunch to see how things were going and to put Sam down for his nap. Safe to say young Samson had worn the poor man out. There had apparently been numerous train wrecks involving Thomas and others. And several of his little animal toys were laid out on the floor, presumably awaiting the changing of their diapers. [I'm not kidding; this is his new thing. We were in Borders last week and he lined up a half dozen Bert and Ernie dolls and announced "change diapers!"]

In any event, during the three hours they were alone together, Samson had somehow convinced his grandfather that climbing the coffee table is something that is allowed in our house. What's more, he had perfected a two-step ninja-like ascent.

I have to say I was impressed with his technique. Very fluid.

Even so, I couldn't let it go. Once he's summitted the coffee table, the expedition to the dining room can't be too far off. And I can picture him planning to conquer the dresser in our room, a band of sherpas camping in our hallway, drinking yak butter tea and waiting for the weather to break.

So, like a thousand times before, I was reduced to the role of straight-man when I asked him, with as much earnestness as I could muster, "Samson, do we climb tables in our house?"

The reply, as ever, a smiling "yes."