So This Is What It Feels Like When Doves Cry…

(It’s that time of year again; my annual letter to my daughter on her birthday.)



Miss Bean (or as you now call yourself “Princess Sunshine Sparkles”),

Happy 3rd Birthday! I can’t believe how fast this past year has gone by. It amazes me how much you’ve changed in so little time; the transition from a baby to a beautiful, smart, and clever little girl with a strong personality still completely fascinates me.


A few things I’ve enjoyed this past year watching you grow:

• Drawing on the driveway with chalk together, making up funny roads, games, and monster characters.
• Hearing your stories about your imaginary friend “Captain Hippo."
  
• Playing Wii (Duck Hunt) together and yelling “Ah man!” right after I yell “Ah man!” among a few other unfortunate things your mom shouldn't know about.
  
• Helping me with small chores around the house such as loading the dishwasher, caring for the dog, and taking out the trash. I hope you still like doing chores next year.
• Paying the cashier for lunch at some restaurant with the 4 pennies you found on the ground while saying “it’s OK daddy, I pay for it with my money’s”
• Listening to you sing your interpretation of songs over, and over, and over again.
• Cooking in your play kitchen, making me guacamole soup and chocolate tea for breakfast.
• Driving by a KFC and you yelling out "Look Daddy! Yummy chicken place!!" (that would bring a tear to any colonel's eye...)
  

Your favorite things at this moment:

Dressing up as a princess, sparkle roll-on, Disneyland, watching movies on my iPhone, popcorn (or "crackcorn" as you call it), making “art”. DVD’s Enchanted, Tarzan, Cars, Incredibles, Lilo & Stitch, Cinderella, Mary Poppins, Dumbo, and Rambo (just kidding! That’s one of my favorites.)

Putting you to bed tonight on the eve of your birthday made me realize how much I’m going to miss you at 2. But at the same time I’m really looking forward to what new adventures and memories we'll have together at 3.

Love,
Daddy

What To Tell a Toddler When the Family Pet Dies…

We came home this afternoon and discovered that our Beagle, Mr. Monkey, had died.

We knew it was coming for some time, about 2 years since the vet initially predicted because of his age and ails; but now that it has the grief and the guilt are kicking in. What has me really distressed is that I had a weird feeling about him last Thursday when he began losing his appetite. Now I have remorse knowing that I should have jumped on my instincts and taken him to the vet.

God, just the thought of him suffering alone with nobody around is just eating me up inside. I never wanted it to happen like that…

Mr. Monkey’s Origins

We found him at a Beagle rescue over 7 years ago, the weekend after we moved into our house. When we saw him we knew he was “the one” because he was very low-key, gentle, and just wanted to sit near anybody who would be willing to pet him for awhile. He had the personality of a cat, but came in the package of a dog.
He did have some odd traits, such as he wouldn’t put anything in his mouth, except food; wouldn’t play catch or fetch. And he couldn’t bark as his previous owners had him “de-barked” (the first I had heard of such a thing – a very creepy practice.) In place of his barking he made whimpering noises, which resembled a monkey, thus his name was given. Except we added “Mr.” obviously influenced by Mr. T.
Eventually his vocal cords did grow back and he was able to bark, a little, sounding more like an old smoker than a dog.
When our daughter came along she just adored him. He of course, like most dogs when a new baby arrives, didn’t want anything to do with her until she became big enough to drop small pieces of food - on purpose.
In the last year or so she began helping me care for Mr. Monkey. Brushing him in the morning and evening, feeding him at night, and serving him his meds. She had lots of 'conversations' with him which was both fascinating and entertaining. At times she could be showing off some “pretty dress” of hers, telling him what she’s done most of the day, or asking him if he’s seen some random movie. According to her, he has and likes all kinds of movies and he 'really likes' her dresses.

Since this just happened tonight, I’m expecting her to ask for him in the morning. And now I’m searching for the right thing to tell her.
Just how do you explain death to a near 3-year old, especially when it’s a pet that they’ve seen everyday for their entire existence?

I really don’t know. The only thing I do know is that I’m really going to miss him…

And Open Letter to Lionel Richie

Dear Lionel Richie (great singer/songwriter of countless love songs including “Brick House”),

My daughter began ballet class today. Your song "Ballerina Girl" now makes sense.

Fellow sappy father,
Tony


While watching my daughter dancing around looking like an adorable little doll, Lionel’s song (Ballerina Girl, not Dancing on the Ceiling) suddenly jumped into my head. Later, the wife had informed me of the video featuring a Dad and his daughter - I investigated and saw something very creepy: That Dad in the video resembled somebody very familiar…

(Now where do I get a harp that glows with neon colors?)

Yup, that was me. Minus the ugly blue sweater and cool man-perm hair. But add a digital camera, video camera, and excessive smiling and waving, and you wouldn't know the difference. I can just imagine how ridiculous I’ve must of looked to the other parents, which happened to be all moms.
By the way, “Brick House” makes sense now too.

For Inquiring Minds – My Father’s Day Update

I did end up getting a nice little BBQ. Regrettably there was no Playstation 3, Xbox, Porsche, Italian-speaking parrot, or slave girl Princess Leia attached.

Although, the wife did break out a bucket of chicken, the spicy kind, while my daughter yelled out “SURPRISE!! Happy Birthday Daddy!!!”

Then we all ate, and I got to take a long nap. It was the best birthday ever.

How to Get a Toddler to Eat: Chapter 143

Apparently telling a 2-year old to eat because there are kids are starving somewhere in the world doesn’t work.

We’ve been having trouble this past week getting my daughter to eat. I’m not sure what happened or what caused this behavior; it’s as if she’s lost all interest in food. And to think just a few weeks ago she had the appetite of a construction worker.

Not anymore.

Half the time I’m not sure where she’s getting her energy from; I'm beginning to think maybe she feeding from the radiation off the TV. The wife doesn’t think that’s possible. Obviously she doesn’t watch The Discover Channel.
So I came up with an idea: I’ve invited her favorite stuffed animal, Mr.L.B., to join the family at the dinner table.


He has his own place setting, sits quietly at the table while he eats, behaves, uses his “please's” and “thank you's”, finishes all of his vegetables, and comes up with pleasant dinner conversion.
Well, except the time his favorite presidential candidate dropped out.
Anyhow, it seemed she loved the idea because she actually started eating a little. But I think she’s had enough because this morning I saw this in the bathroom trashcan:


It's time to come up with another idea.

Utterly Speechless and Disgusted…

Wednesday began like any other - I was listening to NPR on the way to work and then heard something that went like this:

A federal grand jury has indicted a 33-year-old man on dozens of charges, accusing him of posing on the Internet as a teenager so he could molest at least 10 underage girls….

…using social networking sites such as MySpace.com and MyYearbook.com "to convince high school-age girls to have sex with him and pose for pornographic pictures," U.S. Attorney's office spokesman said…

…Monrovia police Lt. Richard Wagnon called the molestation case of Gregory S. S.'s one of the worst he has ever seen. (Full story here and AP here, FBI Release here.)

I nearly ran off the freeway in a mixture of shock and complete disgust. Greg was my best friend from 7th-12th grade.
I haven’t talked to him in well over 6-7 years. And when we did talk it was a brief conversation that didn’t go well. We had a falling out between senior year in High School and first year of college over a few things:
He got involved in a multi-level marketing insurance scam and became really aggressive about recruiting every member of my family, he was hanging out with these two sleazy cheese balls that I didn’t get along with, and oh yeah and there was “this girl” that he knew I was interested in and decided to move in on because of it.

An old friend from High School that I still keep in contact with called me a few months ago saying the FBI had called her asking her questions about Greg. They were calling everybody on his cell phone. They didn’t give much information to her about what he was being investigated for. Then I had heard from a few others in the weeks ahead and thought I would be getting a call soon. I never did.
The first thing that came to mind about this investigation was his involvement in the ponzi-insurance thing. I don’t think anybody had a clue about him being a child predator.

And then I looked at his MySpace, Windows Live, Friendster, and the most disturbing Netlog pages after getting emails from the old network of friends.
Looking through those had to be one of the most frightening things I’ve ever read. His life, pictures, so-called friends - but especially him posing as a 17-19 year old. He became this person I don't even know anymore.
Another old friend sent me the indictment, I couldn't read through it all because I began feeling sick after the 9th or 10th count... some of these girls were as young as 13. It's all truly disgusting.

This whole thing has me thinking constantly about a few things:
What if that thing back in H.S. didn’t happen or I just ignored it - would we have still been friends? Would he have been around my family or…. (gasp) daughter! I can’t even imagine… What if there was something I could have done to prevent this? Maybe I could have helped him? Maybe he didn’t have a real friend around telling him that this is completely and utterly wrong. Can pedophiles like this even be helped? From what I’ve heard he was still hanging out with those jerk guys from High School. I’m sure he told one of them about this, he liked to brag about everything… why didn’t they say something? What if those guys are doing the same thing? Out of the 10 (currently known) girls that he molested, why did only 1 tell her parents??

How many of these guys are out there right now trying to lure children?

That’s the one that keeps me up at night right now.
One thing I can say with absolute certainty I’m keeping track of EVERYTHING my daughter does and WHO she communicates with - especially when it comes to the internet.

An Open Letter To The Wife Regarding Father’s Day

Dear Wife,

Please don’t buy me a Barbeque for Father’s Day.

Yes, I know. How? Because I saw the tabbed page of Barbeque recommendations in one of your women’s ‘contemporary lifestyle’ magazines. You know, the ones that gives makeup advice and then informs you to start your own off-shore bank account if we happen to argue over who’s doing the dishes.
Don’t ask me why I was looking through it.

O.K. there was an interesting article about low-cost organizing ideas (ice cube trays as a change holder? Genius!)

And instead of those “fun activities” they suggest to do on Father’s Day like “Dad and Child wash the car together”, “Dad and child clean out the garage together”, “Dad and child build an indoor spa, with inside locking door, for mom project”, etc. let me offer my own creative and unique ideas for Father’s Day:

• Family picnic at the park and then permitted to sleep the remainder of the day. And for dinner you serve me popcorn chicken dressed like slave-girl Princess Leia.

• A visit to Medieval Times so I can practice on my Sean Connery accent. You know, the one that closely resembles my Colonel Sanders accent.

• Family “Knight Rider” marathon. And we can all ask KITT for more snacks by talking into our imaginary watches.

• Visit the birthplace of Colonel Sanders: The Kentucky Fried chicken closest to our house. Or the one in the dodgy neighborhood but offers the spicy chicken selection.
  

• Get Rock Band for Wii so the 3 of us can play. But only if they have Def Leppard, if not then forget about it.

• Anything that involves at least two of the following together: circus, dwarves, rodeo, monkeys, fried chicken, fully potty-trained 2-year old, The Cure, one million dollars (after-tax.)

Your loving husband,
Tony

P.S. - ...or a Barbeque?

What It’s Like Calling The Poison Control Center...

They were actually very friendly and incredibly calm despite the terrified voice.

My daughter is completely into those glitter sparkles roll-ons that you put on like deodorant, except not under the arms but on the face. The wife bought her some for Christmas and now our daughter is addicted to the stuff like Gary Coleman to ice cream.

I was first opposed to the sparkles since my old roommate’s girlfriend use to wear that glitter junk ALL THE TIME, and it use to get all over the place – walls, floors, fabrics, passing birds, etc. One time I even found some in my Cookie Crisps cereal, which by the way, is just wrong!! (Where’s that Cookie Cop when you need him?)
Anyhow, this kid-version glitter my daughter has isn’t nearly as bad, and truthfully it really doesn’t go on her face at all. But she thinks it does and it keeps her occupied for a little while the wife and I get ready in the morning.

A close friend knows about her sparkle addiction and thoughtfully gave her a Princess purse set with more roll-on, glitter nail polish, and some smelly shimmering lip-gloss. She went crazy for the stuff.
So crazy that she decided to paint her lips and face with sparkling nail polish…

3 years ago a parent once told me “Trust me…add Poison Control Center to your cell phone.” (PCC 1-800-222-1222) I did that instant, along with Domino’s Pizza.

(Screaming child in background)

Poison Control Center: PCC, what’s the problem?
Me: MY DAUGHTER JUST PAINTED NAIL POLISH ON HER LIPS….!! MAYBE NOSE?? FACE? I’M NOT SURE…IS SHE GOING TO BE ALRIGHT??!!
(Oh God… now I’m an even worse parent than Britney Spears and Miley Montana's dad…and I’ll probably be on Perez Hilton within the hour…)
PCC: Nail polish?… with Princesses?
Me: YES!!! NAIL POLISH with PRINCESSES... and Butterflies... and stuff dancing on it or something like that…

(*uncomfortable pause* ...Oh great, she's probably calling Social Services to pick me up right now...)

PCC: She’ll be fine. She’s probably screaming because it taste like Diet Pepsi.
Me: Diet Pepsi!?
PCC: Yes, I’m a pharmacist and trust me, Nail Polish taste like Diet Pepsi. Besides, it’ll take about take about 3 bottles of that stuff to do any real harm.

Then she asked for my name (...Gary?) and zip code then says, ”DO NOT to use nail polish remover, use petroleum jelly instead. And stay away from Diet Pepsi.”

Really?

Now I'm all alone with 'that' bottle of nail polish. Wondering...

Mother’s Day Coloring Pages That You Won’t Find Anywhere Else

My daughter and I are getting ready for the upcoming mothers day festivities this weekend. We had gone shopping to get a little something for the wife and my daughter picked out some interesting “gifts” for mommy - Lego Blocks, a Power Ranger, a Doll bed...
Basically a bunch of toys that she wanted.

Anyhow, I won’t mention what we got her just yet, but I thought since my daughter loves to color I should make some coloring pages to go along with it.
She, like other 2-year olds her age, wanted to color pictures of Elmo, Butterflies, Unicorns, etc. But I wanted to be a little more unique, so I came up with these:

Lionel Richie: "You’re Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady – Happy Mother’s Day!"

Sophia and Dorothy: "Happy Mother’s Day, Ma!"

Elmo's Mother's Day Unicorn and Butterfly Birthday Party Fantasy

(Feel free to use for Mother’s Day. Click to download)

Can you guess which my daughter chose to give mommy?

I Want To Freeze My Daughter. Maybe Costco Has Something…

Can anybody help? She's going to be 3 soon and I wanted to know if there’s a way I can keep her 2-years old just a little longer.

Today while playing our favorite game together, "tea and KFC", I began to realize that she’s not a baby anymore. I started thinking about how big she’s getting and how different she is from this time last year. Back then she could say some words, even put some together like “Hi Elmo!”, “Red Car”, "Chicken Bucket", “Kevin Costner makes really bad movies...”
She could talk a little, but she was pretty much still a baby.

But now things are completely different. I’m not sure when it happened but in the past year she’s learned all kinds of new skills and tricks. She can now draw (or attempt), do stunts, has favorite shows and places to visit, plays poker (or attempt), has friends she talks about constantly, has a vivid imagination that completely fascinates me, tells stories, asks the most entertaining questions about the world around her that I’ve ever heard, and I can have really interesting conversations with her too:

Daughter: Dad-DEE, there’s a MONSTER under my bed
Me: Don’t pee in your pajamas, or he’ll stay there.
Daughter: (thinking) …O.K.!

Daughter: Dad-DEE, I want a baby sister
Me: OK, we’ll buy one at Target next time they’re on sale. Save your money.
Daughter: Oh, Thank you Dad-DEE! I get my moneys.

Daughter: (morning, just waking up) Dad-DEE, you use FEET to pedal a BIKE!
Me: That’s right! And you use a POTTY to go POOP.
Daughter: That’s right! Very Good!!

Why does this have to end when “2” just became fun? Her questions to me about the world around her as if I’m some kind of tour guide in a foreign country are really quite enjoyable; I like being the tour guide. And the best part is - I'm always right! She never questions any of my answers. To her I'm Yoda.
I just hope she still needs a Yoda tour guide at 3, 4, 5, etc. If not, I just may have to check those Target store ads for sales.

Maybe that's how you know when you're ready for another one...

San Diego Made Me Sick! And Shamu Loves Kenny G

It did, literally. And now I’ve had a nasty cold since Monday. If anybody knows of any good remedies, please share.

We spent the weekend in scenic San Diego with some friends and their now 3-year old daughter, or as my daughter likes to call her “NO! My friend!” She's in this “No - My” stage right now that I'm finding difficult to break. Everything is hers, “No! My Daddy!”, “No! My Car!”, “No! My Princess!”, “No! My *insert pretty much anything*”.

On Saturday we were at the San Diego Wild Animal Park. We haven’t been there in about 9-10 years and the place doesn’t look any different - it’s still big, and has a valley full of “wild” animals that have been living in captivity for nearly 40 years. The only part that changed is that they now charge extra for everything in addition to the entry price. So you pretty much pay admission just to use the sidewalks.
My favorite area in the park was this HUGE Slush Puppy wagon near the Lions - I loved these Slushies growing up. I found them to be far superior to 7-11's Slurpees.
Anyhow, after I bought my $6 cup (inflation?) and filled it, the nearby Lions were all staring at me like I suddenly turned into a huge turkey leg. My daughter picked up on it and told them “No! My Slush Puppy!”
And then she experienced her first brain freeze near the African elephants trying to quickly drink about 1 gallon of melting slushy - by the way - trying to explain a brain freeze to a 2-year old is extremely challenging. I stopped trying when everybody around us was talking about this one elephant who was really excited and was dragging ‘it’ on the ground as he walked.

The next day we paid a visit to Sea World. Sea World was much better as the shows and rides were included with the price of admission – how old fashion but very convenient of them. And what made it even better was that none animals were dragging anything around.
As we walked around throughout the day I couldn’t help but to notice Kenny G playing the entire time. It was like somebody left the CD on repeat all day. Later, when I was asking a Hostess where the local Slush Puppy wagon was, I also asked about the Kenny G. She told me (jokingly) that all of San Diego loves him.

Then my daughter said “No! My Kenny G!”