Greetings Little One

An Unlikely Story

   

Riding on a rabbit

    

Summer swing

     

More merry-go-round

   

Splash of summer

This phone call apparently went well

 

Our little money manager

For almost a year, my six year-old daughter, Clara, has been saving her allowance and birthday money for a dollhouse that she saw at Barnes & Noble one day.

Clara receives $1 per week (plus additional quarters for the completion of additional chores), of which she divides amongst her long term, short term, and charity jars. She is required to put a quarter in each jar and put the remaining quarters wherever she wants. For months, all of her extra quarters (and birthday money) have been going to long term savings.

On Sunday, her total in the long term savings jar exceeded $90, which meant that she had the $89 need to purchase the dollhouse.

When I was ten years-old, I saved $100 selling lemonade, leftover food from my grandfather's picnic, and my brother's toys (I don't think he knows about this even today), only to have my wallet and all but $6 eaten by my dog, Pac-Man.

I had been selling my grandfather's barbecue chicken, and some of the sauce had gotten on the money, drawing Pac-Man's attention. 

I cannot tell you how impressed I was with my little girl. She made a plan, demonstrated patience and perseverance, and it finally paid off. I know many, many adults incapable of saving money and waiting like she did.

When we arrived at Barnes & Noble, I immediately went to the cashier and warned her that my daughter would be buying a dollhouse and paying in about $20 worth of quarters and many small bills. I thought it was important that Clara use the actual money that she had saved when buying the dollhouse. I wanted her to connect effort with reward.

The cashier's response should have been a smile and congratulations to my daughter, but instead I received a scowl and a complaint that she didn't have any quarter rolls.

I was annoyed.

Not only was she legally required to accept our payment regardless of denomination, but a little bit of excitement for our daughter;s accomplishment would have been nice. I will never understand who some customer service people don't choose to simply be kind and polite.

Thankfully, by the time we returned with the dollhouse, scowling cashier had been replaced with a cashier who was genuinely excited for my daughter. We counted quarters on the side while she took customers, and once we were ready, she took Clara's money with a smile and many, many congratulatory remarks. 

The way it's supposed to be done.

Clara is saving again. She's not sure for what yet, but she told me that she will start saving while she figures out what she wants next.

She's also been willing do to extra chores around the house, understanding better than ever how effort can result in reward, and more importantly, what the earned realization of that reward feels like.

Whale watch was perfect and perfectly disgusting

My wife and I took the kids on a whale watch last week. It was the first whale watch ever for me and the kids.

We set sail out of Boston harbor and spent 90 minutes at sea before reaching the area off the tip of Cape Cod where we would find the whales.

  

In that time, the ocean managed to alleviate about half of the passengers of their previous meal, including my son. He took one bite of a melting chocolate bar and immediately vomited all over himself.

Thankfully he's three years-old and can get away with being in a diaper and nothing else. Other people on board were not so lucky.  

Charlie also had good reason to be sick. Seas were three to five feet, and the chop was even worse. The bartender told me that she had been working on the boat for ten years and had never felt sick until that day.

So it was bad. My wife felt sick for most of the trip, and about half of the passengers were ill to one degree or another. There was a great deal of groaning throughout the ship, and the cleanup crews were working double time. 

But rough seas equates to excellent whale watching. In addition to watching the whales flap their fins and tails for more than an hour, we saw several humpbacks breach many times from about 100 yards away. They leapt from the water, doing barrel rolls as they crashed back down beneath the waves.

We were told by several crew members that it was the best whale watching all season.

I actually had tears in my eyes as I watched the whales. Charlie was in my arms, pointing and laughing, watching these incredible animals on display in their natural environment. It was amazing.

As we neared the end of our hour with the whales, I took Charlie and moved to the bow, where a whale was leaping into the air. A minute later, Charlie discovered another meal somewhere in his gut and threw up all over me, and then, just to make the moment complete, threw up into my mouth as well.

A crew member watched it happen and was so disgusted that she had to turn away.

Here's the thing:

I didn't care all that much. I handed Charlie off to my nearly sick wife for a minor cleanup (since most of the mess was on me) and retired to the restroom, where I removed all of my clothing, washed it in the sink, and put it back on. The clothes were wet and they stunk, but unlike Charlie, I would've looked strange if I had been only wearing my underwear.

But it was fine. I was with my son, and we saw whales, and a little vomit (or a hell of a lot of vomit) wasn't going to stop me.

One of the ladies sitting near the restrooms asked me how I could still be smiling after the horror show that she witnessed.

I think a few things combined to allow me to retain my smile:

1. Perspective: Vomit is disgusting, but it's only vomit.
2. My love for Charlie: I will never forget the look on his face when he saw that first whale.
3. Patience: I can put up with a lot.
4. Recognition: I had just witnessed something incredible.

I didn't tell the lady all that. I just told her that I was tough as nails. And maybe I was.

But I think it was simply my refusal to let a minor, albeit disgusting, bump in the road spoil my day.

A terrible break in routine

My wife took this photo yesterday morning. I love it so much.

I'm in Brazil, which means that when Clara woke up, she couldn't go downstairs and see her Daddy, who is either writing, sweeping, or getting breakfast ready for her every morning. Not wanting to wake anyone up but with no one to talk to, she plopped herself down in the hallway to wait. 

I love this. It also breaks my heart. I'm one day into my week long trip and I can't wait to get home and see her.

Matthew Dicks/ 1 Comment

My former students occupy such important spaces in my life

There have been so many unexpected benefits to my teaching career, but none have been more surprising than the lifelong relationships that I have established with so many of my students.

I first got to know these people as seven or eight or ten year-old children, and so many of them are now adults who occupy such an important space in my life.

My wife posted this on Facebook last night about one of those former students:

“Kate, babysitter extraordinaire and former student of Matt (grade 3) and mine (grade 5) just sang a lullaby over speaker phone to Charlie who wouldn’t go to bed without hearing a song that only she knows. Can I just tell you how special it was for me to hear a kid (well, not anymore) who I taught 12 years ago when she was ten sing my little one to sleep? (The answer is: pretty damn special.) Kate, thank you for making Charlie’s and my night.”

— Elysha Dicks

Not every teacher chooses to forge such close ties with their former students, but I can't for the life of me understand why.