Earlier this evening we wrapped up a delicious celebratory dinner at Punch Pizza, one of our favorite neighborhood pizzerias, and were enjoying the delicious complimentary candies that come with the check. While walking back to the car, tragedy strikes: Maggie’s candy falls out of her mouth onto the grimy pavement. There’s no way out of this one—it’s well-past bedtime—she’s going to melt down completely. Sarah and I prepare ourselves to deliver platitudes about life and loss while whisking everyone home as quickly as possible. Maggie’s first wail, however, is interrupted as Griffin simply snaps his piece of candy in half and hands her one gooey piece. Her face lights up as she pops it into her mouth and says in a quiet, quavering voice, “Thank you, Griffin.”
We didn’t take many pictures on this, our first summer trip to the cabin, but we had a great time. Jess, Kevin, Murray, and Olive joined us. Despite some rain and bugs, the kids spent most of their time outside, exploring the woods and shoreline.
Sarah was out of town for a wedding. The kids had been asking for another D&D game. We hadn’t played in ages, not since last summer. So, yes, totally, let’s play D&D! But let’s do it properly. We needed more players. I invited over some friends of theirs so that we could potentially have five players, but if the youngest two—Maggie and her friend, Olive—lost interest, they could entertain each other. Five kids while solo parenting… I was asking for it.
We had a great time. Maggie and Olive only played for a bit, but Griffin, Murray, and Miles invested a couple of hours into it. In the year and a half since our first game, the kids have developed quite a bit. Some observations and highlights:
Griffin is far more adept at arithmetic now, and loves doing it. He gets mad if I do any of the math during the game, wanting to calculate everybody’s hit points and bonuses and all of that.
Griffin is also better at reading and writing, though not quite as good as Murray, who is a year older. They loved writing things down and, when possible, reading things aloud. When they came to the ruins of a village, they could not have been more excited to read this scrawled note posted by the main road:
WARNING!
Plant monsters and zombies
KEEP OUT!
They acted like all they wanted to do was fight monsters, but in reality they tended to get a little bored during combat. They were most engaged when they were debating their plans and making decisions as a group.
They loved deciding whether to travel on the road or through the wilderness. Although crossing the wilderness was more direct, they elected to follow the road because they thought (correctly) that it would be less dangerous.
When they passed through a civilized town, they debated what kind of meal to have, and spent some time figuring out how much treasure they had and whether they could afford a fancy meal. They eventually elected to splurge on a princely feast.
This led to them being followed by a pickpocket. Much joy as they spotted him and then ambushed him, leading eventually to the moral quandary of what to do with their criminal prisoner. After some debate, they elected to “scare him” and then let him go, telling him not to try to steal from people anymore.
Honestly, my impression was that I could mostly dispense with the adventure plot, and simply give them opportunities to go shopping, explore the map, etc. I think they just loved getting to make the kinds of decisions that adults usually make for them. (Plus rolling dice, of course—lots of dice!)
The full group at the table, with Maggie wearing a sheep hat.Just the boys at this point, with my characteristic gesticulations.
Griffin and Maggie, turning seven and four respectively, agreed to have a joint birthday party this year. Each of them invited seven friends, and we all gathered at a local park for cupcakes and fun. It was a gorgeous day, and the whole event felt unusually relaxed. The kids rampaged around while the adults chatted, kept nominal watch, and guarded the cupcakes (my strategy: eat them).
Cupcakes, designed by Griffin and Maggie.
Maggie required some elements from Frozen.
Birthday sparklers… Griffin was nervous that they would be loud.
For years we have despaired that our children would grow up to be shiftless, unmotivated drones. Fortunately, for at least the past six months, they have settled onto a pair of robust dreams for the future. Maggie will be an astronaut. Griffin, who is less excited about the discomforts of space travel, will be a space scientist, staying on the ground but helping Maggie with her experiments.
Griffin got me with two April Fool’s Day jokes already this morning: he told me he made me some brownies for a treat (which turned out to be brown E’s) and he handed me a shoe box and said he got me a new pair (which turned out to be a pear)! He was so delighted with himself, and so was I!
We recently came across these interview questions on Facebook. Seemed like a fun thing to do. We first three interviews in January, but Maggie wasn’t interested in answering the daddy questions back then. She grudgingly agreed to give it a go during spring break, on March 23.
Mama
Daddy
Griffin
Maggie
Griffin
Maggie
What is something I always say to you?
Stop.
Clean up.
When I say, “Do you want to play a game,” you say, “Yeah, sure.”
I don’t know.
What makes me happy?
When I do stuff for you.
Clean up.
When I play with you.
Saying, “Please can you play with me?”
What makes me sad?
When I mess up the house.
When I accidentally break something.
When I mess up the house.
When me and Griffin do bad things. Like break glass.
How do I make you laugh?
By tickling me!
We sing silly things!
By tickling me!
By saying funny things.
What was I like as a child?
Mischief!
I don’t know!
You didn’t have a CD player.
Shrug.
How old am I?
39
I don’t know.
44
I forgot. Twenty? No. Not twenty. Twenty-four? No. Are you twenty-four?
How tall am I?
I don’t know!
REALLY tall!
I didn’t measure you. I’m guessing it might be like four feet, maybe, no… five feet.
We have an old twin-sized futon—the ultra-basic variety with the unfinished pine base that folds, awkwardly, into a chair. Though it has been useful over the years, it doesn’t get a lot of love. In return, it has become increasingly lumpy and shabby looking. Sarah and I generally ignore it, keeping it around for rare times when we are brimming with house guests. The kids, however, see it as a multi-purpose device: trampoline, hurdle, and the floor, wall, or roof for their many ephemeral fort designs.
Said futon recently sprung a leak, spewing forth tiny bits of foam (the foam core is surrounded by a nimbus of smaller chunks, ergo the lumpiness). Sarah applied a duct tape bandage, but the kids regularly defeat this measure with a single good leap.
This morning, Sarah and I found the futon blocking the basement hallway with a spray of foam guts on the carpet. We asked the kids to clean up the mess, and reminded them that the poor futon is off limits until we come up with a hardier solution. Some time later, I returned to the basement and found that Griffin had filled an entire trash can with foam bits, vastly more than what we had seen on the carpet before. With sinking heart, I inquired as to what was going on. Griffin proudly said that he was making sure that no more would leak out again, at which point he reached into the growing wound and extracted another armload of foam.
As I groaned at the plight of the poor, eviscerated futon, Maggie squealed, “More, Griffin, MORE!”
I had a presidential politics discussion with Griffin this morning, prompted by a question about what the covers of these magazines mean. I explained the idea of a spectrum of beliefs (exemplified by stances on candy consumption, of course, which was well received and understood). Our conversation culminated in Griffin’s written commentary on the big T as a “bad guy” and questions of whether our personal political views are closer to “no candy ever” or “candy all the time,” to which I responded, “it’s complicated.”