OK, so maybe there are some small parts

Vicki just called from the car. She picked Samson up from school and he'd been crying. Apparently, the parts for the class play, "Goldilocks and the 3 Bears," were handed out, and Samson did not get the coveted role of Papa Bear. Instead, he will be a bunny. I don't remember bunnies from the story, but I'm guessing they serve as a kind of Greek chorus, warning Goldilocks and alerting the audience to important morals and themes.

Or maybe they just hop around in the background.

Either way, Jordan got the part of Papa Bear. Which, to be honest, seems fair to me.

For one, he's a five-day-a-weeker at the school. And he's easily got 20 pounds on all the other kids in the class. I think having a 53-pound bunny hopping in the background would be a little distracting, don't you?

Excuses, excuses

I took a few days off to spend Easter with my family (as in, all of them, parents, in-laws, etc), so I've got lots of stories and tons of photos and no time to share them. Here are a few from my nephew Luke's first visit to our house.

Amazingly, we weren't any later than we normally are for church. That Luke is a fast (and snappy) dresser...

Jane works the system

So Jane has added "uh oh" to her little repertoire of words. This isn't the "I just fell down, but I'm OK" uh-oh, but rather the "I think I'll knock my milk on the floor and pretend it's an accident" kind of uh-oh.

Last night I watched her slowly move her bottle to the edge of the table and then push it over. She then looked up, said "uh-oh," and laughed like crazy.

Unfortunately, what is cute (at least the first 70 or so times) for a 14-month-old is rarely so for a 3-year-old, so Jane not only got away with knocking her milk on the floor but --- and I believe this is the first documented instance --- also helped get her brother in trouble.

Uh-oh, indeed.

Bells are ringing

Samson has a habit --- especially when he's uninterested in eating --- of jumping up from the table and saying "The fire alarm is ringing. We have to go put on our uniforms!" I have to admit, it's way more clever than simply saying "I don't want to eat," but it still doesn't work.

Anyway, he did this at my parents' house, which prompted my Dad to mention that he had a bell for Sam to ring in the basement. Said bell weighs about 10 pounds, but Samson rang the hell out of it on Saturday afternoon.

He kept making my Dad go upstairs and lie down so he could then ring the bell and wake him up.

Circus minimus, part 2

Where was I? Oh yes, the tigers.

So this year's show had lots of trained animal stuff. I mean, you expect the elephant parade and the attendant standing on one foot and linking trunks routine. But the tigers, for some reason, just make me sad. I know I mentioned this last year as well, but part of me (a big part, if I'm being honest) always roots for the tigers.

I know we'd be talking through the incident in our house for the next 20 years [we had a smoke detector with a low battery that went off some time around Christmas, and we still discuss it at least three times a week before Samson goes to sleep], but I just can't help it. There's something profoundly ignoble (and depressing) about watching a giant predator reduced to jumping through a hoop by a guy in sparkles and spandex.

Anyway, Samson seemed sort of interested in them. And there was just enough noise to keep Jane moderately interested. Unfortunately, there was also a trained horse and zebra act. Three rings of horses (and zebras) running clockwise, counter-clockwise, and then doing some kind of drill where half of them ran one way and half ran the other. No, really.

But even this was preferable to the trained dogs. I'm pretty sure I didn't say this out loud while I was sitting there, but Jesus H. Christ is there anything more boring that watching dogs do tricks? Probably listening to people talk about dogs doing tricks.

Honestly, with the tigers at least I've got some kind of vested interest. When it comes to poodles in skirts on scooters and the people who train them, there is absolutely no one to root for (see also: existential dread).

Surprisingly, the one thing missing this year was the guys on motorcycles in the giant metal ball. Samson remembered them and kept asking when they would appear. I assumed they were part of the show [why wouldn't you include them?], but alas, they were not. I assume they're out in the world somewhere doing that right now, right? I mean, it's probably not a hobby.

Still, Brian and Tina being shot out of the cannon was pretty neat. By that time, however, Jane was sound asleep.

Gratuitous Jane photos

Jane has been working on her facial expressions. So far she's got vaguely crazy and incredibly sweet down pat.

Circus minimus

The circus is in town, and Sam's class made its annual pilgrimage to the downtown arena for a few hours of ... well ... for a few hours.

Last year's trip was an adventure unto itself, what with the motorcycles, the tigers, and Miss Sarah. This year was a different theme and a different cast. Sadly, Miss Sarah no longer teaches at Sam's school, but his teacher, Miss Carrie sat next to us.

I'm not sure if she wanted to or just took pity on me because I had both kids. [Vicki's mom was in NY, so I had Jane with me too. Which was no big deal, but I think dads really bear the brunt of the "soft bigotry of low expectations." I put Jane in a little corduroy dress and had a pink clip in her hair, which elicited a "Jane looks so nice" comment from one of the moms that was equal parts sincere and surprised. I don't know if she expected to see Jane in a stained Jets jersey munching on a Slim Jim or what, but I can get my kids out of the house just fine thank you.]

I digress. Perhaps one of the funniest things about being at the circus with Sam's class was the way each of the kids greeted each other. The responses came in two varieties: complete and total silence accompanied by staring or amazement at the incredible coincidence that they too happened to be at the circus and in our section. It was awesome.

As for the show, this probably seems like a strange appraisal, but it was kind of boring. You know how they send out the clowns to divert the audience's attention while they set up for the next big thing? More than half the show felt like the diversion part of the program.

There was a whole subtheme of this clown in love with a trapeze artist that was completely lost on Sam. They also did a bit where two kids were picked from the audience to learn to be clowns. And there was a 15-minute parody of Dancing with the Stars called Dancing with the Clowns. Which was probably wildly entertaining for those who enjoy slapstick physical comedy and ballroom dancing.

In fairness, I'm judging the circus on whether or not it appealed to my three-year-old. And he enjoyed some of the bigger stuff, like the guy getting shot out of a cannon. But there was just a lot of downtime to contend with. For Sam, not for me, as I had Jane practicing standing by holding on to the hair of the girl in front of us. Erica, who is in Samson's class, was a really good sport about it and seemed to enjoy the attention Jane was paying her.

I've got more to cover, but I should probably get to work. I'll post more later. Stay tuned, there will be tigers...

Sights and sounds

Samson's class has science once a week, and they've been working on the senses. They did a blind taste test (which Samson aced, correctly naming all 5 foods). Why this makes me proud, I don't know, but it does. That's right, my boy knows a marshmallow even when he can't see it.

Anyway, the results were posted on a chart outside his classroom and included the child's name, the food, and their response.

Charlotte, who shares a cubby with Samson, identified the olive as "martini." Her parents must be very proud.

In keeping with their senses unit, the kids were later asked about their favorite things to see, taste, etc. I saw the list outside Sam's classroom and just stood there smiling. I don't think there's anything I can add that wouldn't be superfluous, so here it is:

My favorite thing to see: whales jumping

My favorite thing to taste: carrots

My favorite thing to touch: marshmallows

My favorite thing to smell: pasta

My favorite thing to hear: Jane laughing

Verbatim

Life with a three-year-old (at least with our three-year-old) can feel at times like a Beckett play. I submit for your consideration the following conversation Vicki and Sam had this morning:

Samson: When babies have a diaper rash, does God have one too?

Vicki: Does God get diaper rashes?

Samson: Yes.

Vicki: God gets them too?

Samson: He gets them for the babies so the babies won't cry.

Correction

Sweet Jane was not just along for the ride after all. She was busy getting the eye infection too, so now those big beautiful eyes are all crusty. Add to that her crazy morning wake-up hair, and you've got one very unhappy little girl.

Still, the doctor gave us extra drops, so she should be right as rain in a day or two. Poor thing.

We had almost no snow this winter, and there were only a few cold streaks that I can think of, but this has definitely been the sickest winter for our family. I can't wait for some warmer weather so we can just open the windows of the house and get some fresh air circulating. It feels silly to complain about winter when it really never arrived [we might as well have left the tags on the kids' snowsuits for all the use they saw], but I'm really ready for spring.

Profiles in courage?

So Samson has an ear infection. And pink eye. The latter we knew about, since he had the viral form --- i.e., the kind that doesn't need antibiotics --- last week and now has the bacterial form, which does. Or maybe it's the other way around. In any case, the poor kid has brown goop on his eyelids, and we now need to put drops in them. The doctor suggested doing it while he's asleep. When Vicki pressed him on this, he said: "You wait until he's asleep and then one of you opens his eyelid and the other puts in the drops."

This is a child who is afraid of his curtains in the dark. Something tells me two shadows entering the room, prying open his eyelids, and dropping in liquid will not be well received. That said, we're bound to get at least one eye done before the screaming begins. I'll let you know how it goes.

Speaking of screaming, Samson has been having a hard time hearing us of late. Once again, Vicki called the doctor two weeks ago and was assured that it was part of a head cold and would right itself. It didn't, and in fact, the poor kid has probably only been hearing us with one ear for a week now. Which, given the past week's tally of time-outs for ignoring us, might explain a lot.

Anyway, the good doctor needed to use a metal tool to remove wax that was beyond the reach of a mere Q-tip. [Sidenote: Not that I want Samson to have special impacted wax in his ear, but it made me feel better that this was something I couldn't have fixed had I been better about cleaning his ears after bath time.] As you can imagine, the insertion of a lance into his ear did not sit well with young Samson.

I was on hand to hold him still, which I did. Mission accomplished, the doctor decided to show me what he'd found, which was a tiny, waxy, bloody kernel. Now I have a pretty strong stomach, or at least I used to, but at the sight of that --- combined with the wailing child in my arms and the fact that the office was like a kiln --- I almost passed out. I could feel my stomach drop and all the blood drain from my head as if someone had just pulled the plug.

I tried my best to be attentive while Sam's doctor showed us some illustrations of the ear and what healthy versus infected ears look like. He made a point of getting a book to give us all the details. All of which was kind. And thorough. And totally unnecessary. I'm already squeamish about ears [don't ask], and I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

So Vicki is on her way to the pharmacy, Samson is enjoying a well-deserved lollipop, and Jane, sweet Jane, is (as usual) along for the ride. She watched all of the above-mentioned action pretty intently.

I imagine behind that big sweet smile she was thinking: "better him than me."

Fantastic Sam

One of the great things about being a toddler's Dad is that you have a ready-made excuse to watch the shows you loved (or at least thought you did) as a way of screening them to ensure they are appropriate.

I remember watching the Fantastic Four only a few times as a kid, but I remembered it being a lot better, apparently, than it was. Which is OK, because Samson is still trying to figure out who the good guys and bad guys are and what makes them so. As in "Is he mean? Why?" or "How come he's a bad guy?"

So there's no need to get caught up in the finer points of things, which is good because I just don't have answers to some of his questions --- like why The Thing wears only blue underpants or why that guy (The Watcher) has such a giant head.

The joy of painting

We've been wanting to repaint our bedroom for a while now and finally got around to it yesterday. Jane obliged by taking two really good naps, and Samson was only too happy to pitch in and help.

His technique is a little more Jackson Pollock than Benjamin Moore, but it was really fun to have him working alongside us. Also, he is apparently union, as he kept stopping because he needed "a break."

Baby steps

Mine, not Jane's. She's still showing absolutely no interest in walking. She is, however, fascinated by trying to climb up the little walking stroller toy we thought would get her to stand and walk.

No, these baby steps were taken by me. At long last, I have turned in the first draft of my thesis. So if the blog posts are fewer and farther between than normal, you'll know my advisors came back with lots of revisions. I'm hoping for just two rounds of rewrites and then a defense in April so I can graduate in May. Keep your fingers crossed.

In other news, today at swimming Samson channeled his inner Aquaman and retrieved a ring from the bottom of the pool. He was also able to hold his breath under water while his teacher counted to 10. This last accomplishment, as I type it, makes it look like we send him to some Soviet-style swim gulag, but I can assure you Miss Annie is watching carefully over young Samson in the pool.

Man in a suitcase

I had to travel to Ft. Lauderdale this weekend for work [I know, poor me], and while the trip was nice and short --- I left Friday afternoon and was back home mid-morning on Sunday --- Samson is much more aware and affected by my travel now than even just a few months ago.

I'm not sure Jane noticed I was gone, but it was nice to see that big smile when I returned.

It was interesting watching people on my plane who were traveling with kids manage all the things they needed to manage. I had just my carry on bag and tried to look with both sympathy and solidarity as they struggled. And then I fell asleep.

On the way down, I sat, unintentionally, behind a couple with two small children, which worked out really well because then no one wanted to sit next to me. Honestly, it was like those two kids had dynamite belts on and were reading copies of the Turner Diaries.

Eventually, the plane filled up and those seats were taken by a weirdly tan couple, the female half of which looked like Rod Stewart. She spent the majority of the flight drinking rum and cokes. Look, I'm no Calvinist, but if you need three or four rum and cokes for a two and a half hour flight, maybe you should consider the train. Or AA.

Anyway, I'm back. The weekend was fine; the weather was amazing, and it looks like spring is starting to make some tentative steps forward here.