Everybody's got one

Everybody's got one. That uncle. Uncle fill-in-the-blank. The one that's just a tad crazy, a little juvenile maybe, but a whole lotta fun. The one your parents are not quite sure they want you spending too much quality time around. The guy that's more friend, less authority figure. A little kid in a man's body.

Mine is Uncle George. The one who likes to refer to me as his favorite niece. (Yes, indeed, I am his only niece. But I still like being his favorite.) I love that guy. You all know who I'm talking about. Maybe you have more than one.

Well, my kids have Uncle Mike.

And the other day, I let my kid get on an airplane with him.

She had me at hello

We tuck our kids in at night. Get them into bed, give them a kiss and a hug, tell them we love them. Night night, sleep tight, and all that. We don't sing lullabies, but we used to. Funny aside: when the boy was just a tiny tyke, he asked us to sing the "Cheese is a person in your neighborhood" song every night. (Google "Ben Stiller Sesame Street"). E-v-e-r-y night.

Another aside (just for me): When the boy was just a tiny baby, I used to sing to him,

On the day that you were born
The angels got together
And decided to create a dream come true
So they sprinkled moondust in your hair
Of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue

[sigh]

Anyway ... Back to the present bedtime ritual -- sometimes, if mom or dad isn't feeling well, we ask the kids if we can say goodnight to them in our own room or wherever we happen to be lying prostrate and incapacitated.

The other night, Daddy was listless (cold, fever, etc.) in the living room and had the kids say goodnight to him there. They hugged and kissed him and made their way to their rooms. Mommy tucked them in, according to custom.

After lights-out, the girl crept tentatively into the living room, snuggled up to Mommy and ventured the following statement, fraught with the hemming and hawing of a kid who knows she is not supposed to be out of bed:

I don't know why ... but when one of you comes ... and one of you doesn't come into my room ... I don't feel ... complete.

You can believe that Daddy got up off his sick patootie and tucked that girl in.

He completes her, you know. And so do I. For now, anyway.

Spelling Lesson

'Kitty' is 'cat' spelled a lot differently.

-- Emma, age 7

Here's one for Grandma & Grandpa

The other morning, as I was fixing the girl's hair, she asked if she could have a bun. Not the warm sticky sugary buttery cinnamony kind, but the schoolmarm kind. I helped her put her hair up and she commented that the bun made her look older.

So ensued an early morning discussion about buns and their aging effect.

Jared threw in his 2 cents: That's why Grandma doesn't look old.

(Unspoken, but implied: Because Grandma doesn't wear her hair in a bun.)

And while he was at it, this for Grandpa: And Grandpa only looks as old as Daddy.

Which statement could be either a compliment for Grandpa, or a subtle dig at dear old Dad. Let's err on the side of flattery.

Barbie in Aggieland

For my Austin friends who don't already know this about me ... I am an Aggie.

An Aggie who subsequently attended U.T. (sorry, Mike, t.u.) and now works for said rival institution, and is yet, ever always an Aggie. It is a known fact that graduate school engenders no true allegiance, and well, a job is a job. Any (good-natured) disparaging comments will be tolerated (I know where I live), and if you have a good Aggie joke, bring it on.

As a student, I attended quite nearly every home football game, and happily stood throughout. Thanksgivings were spent in the stands for the big A&M/t.u. game. We camped overnight for tickets. I'm a fan. However, in the past decade, I have attended exactly 3 Aggie football games. The most recent of which took place last weekend.

My brother (also an Aggie and a season ticket holder) kindly invited me to attend with him, as he had an extra ticket, and I happily made the drive to my alma mater to enjoy a little nostalgia, some football, and a little brother/sister bonding time.

On my way out the door, sweet girl asked if I wanted to take a Barbie with me (seeing as she has, hmm, say 20, Barbies, sparing one for the day could be no inconvenience to her). No difficulty for me to stow a Barbie in my bag for the drive down to elicit a smile from my girl.

And then I had an idea...

The pictures below chronicle Barbie's first trip to Aggieland. She'll never be the same.

Barbie chillin' at the tailgate. Soaking up some warm College Station humidity (a humidity like no other) and watching some college ball on the flat screen t.v.

Before the game began, Barbie decided to catch the "Spirit Walk" where we greeted the football team in addition to the Fightin' Texas Aggie Band.

The nationally famous Fightin' Texas Aggie Band is the largest military marching band in the nation and all 350+ members are cadets. Barbie was really into the half-time show.

Here's Barbie performing an Aggie yell. Don't ask. I can't explain it. We're a peculiar sort.

After the conclusion of the game, Barbie joined the hundreds (thousands?) of other fans who flooded the playing field. Dodging flying footballs and dashing children, we made our way to the 50 yard line, where Barbie struck a dainty pose.

Final score: A&M - 56 UAB - 19

Gig 'em.

The randomness of a youthful mind

It's 7:00am and my daughter says to me,

I'm really glad we - you know, you, me, Jared and Daddy - won't be around when the sun explodes.

Me, too, honey. Me, too.