July 2008
Michael had a great week at Gramma's. It's Papa's house too, but Gramma gets top billing, kind of like A-Rod over Jeter now at Yankee Stadium. Of course, both are All-Stars. And even the Gramma-Michael relationship was strained a few times in their 8 days together. For example, Michael announced he and Papa should "put Gramma in jail" after she firmly ended playtime in favor of bedtime. And Gramma insisted that Michael go potty which he otherwise refuses to do until his eyes water and he pees "like a firehose" as Papa describes it. Michael asked every night how many days he had left, followed by negotiations for more. He cried on Saturday, his last day. But he will go back, and often, I promised him.
We visited Clear Lake. Uncle Bill drove the boat fast! The kids loved it, and Megan was especially breathless when gibbering about it afterward. I love it when Megan talks. About anything. Both kids swam and played in sand so much we're still finding grains of it in their ears, nails, in every crack and crevice.
There were four big dogs at Clear Lake, and I don't blame Meg for not trusting an animal that bit her in the face. She isn't afraid of Belle, but Belle is so wonderfully passive she's like Dalai-Lama-level imperturbable; a toddler could take away her dinner, tug on her ear, and poke her in the eye and Belle would only smile. Megan loves Beller-Feller but screamed whenever the other dogs came close. She even swatted at them a few times, swinging wildly with one arm while clinging to my leg with the other. Perfect. When Megan clings to me = heaven.
We saw Kung Fu Panda in the theater. Right in the middle of it, Michael turned to me and said, "You were right, Daddy, this IS a cool movie!" It was over-stimulating for Megan though. Her eyes were very wide and when I whispered to her, "Are you okay, Love?" she began chattering unintelligibly. I heard words like 'fast' and 'loud' and 'flying' and 'crash.' Then I reminded her to lower her voice (in the theater). Megan is adorable at movies. Her little legs, straight out in front of her, barely reach the edge of her seat. We prop her up, give her some popcorn, and she's quite happy.
Last night at bedtime, I challenged Michael to a round of "I love you more than...." I led off with an impressive volley of massive quantities. "Michael, I love you more than all the water in the ocean, all the stars in the sky, and" – my kicker, my trump, my coup de grace! – "all the Legos ever made!" I figured this was unbeatable, and the Lego reference sheer genius. (Legos are the most popular toy at home lately.) I inhaled smugly. But Michael is a cool cat. He kept his composure, paused, countered: "Daddy, I love you more than a hundred and a thousand Jupiter's." Ooh. It was a good one, a real good one. A confusing mix of numbers and the largest planet in our solar system?! Damn. The best I could argue for after that was a tie.
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