oh brother

Before Cub Scouts last Friday Brennan engaged in a game of pick up basketball with some of the other boys. Once sides had been formed, one boy yelled out the name he had selected for his team, "We're the Denominators!" A kid on the opposing team perked up at this point, replying, "That is interesting. So, what you are telling us, is that all of you are the bottom half of a fraction?" Guess which team won?

Brennan walked up to me last week and announced that he wants a brother. Like a pet, he sometimes lobbies for further procreation. However, this time his specificity caught me a bit off guard. "I want a brother. Who's good at soccer. Who's my age. I'd like him to be black. And his name could be CJ." Lori and I have discussed the biological prospects of granting such a request, but we both agree it might be a long shot. As a result, I've been checking Craigslist daily for a CJ.

for now

Don't fill up on bread
I say absent-mindedly
The servings here are huge

My son, whose hair may be
receding a bit, says
Did you really just
say that to me?

What he doesn't know
is that when we're together, when we get
to the curb
I sometimes start to reach
for his hand

- Robert Hershon

I'm sure that one day I will feel like this about our children. Although if any of them have a receding hairline, it's doubtful I will want to be seen with them in public. *

For now, my leisurely reading has become splintered; only time for tidbits here and there. Poetry has provided an appealing marriage of convenience. I grew tired of seeing the same six books on my bedside stand, unread. I also sit in the poetry section at the library where I study. One day I grabbed Billy Collins during a break. Then Updike. Even Amber Tamblyn. It provides a mental shot of espresso on days so often chained to statistical models. So, for now my poetry fix does the trick. Norman Maclean can wait.

For now, all of our children hold our hands willingly when crossing the road...except for Ava. She views this gesture as an insult to her independence as a human being and her strength as a woman. Yesterday as I was drinking from a mug she walked up and asked, "Coffee?" "No," I replied, "Cafix. Want some?" "Umm, no thanks," she offered, as she exited the kitchen, purse in hand, sunglasses on, really big shoes on her feet.

Please choose wisely
I say absent-mindedly
It is not so trivial

My daughter, whose first haircut
was imposed upon her several weeks ago
at the ripe age of 29 months, says
Umm, toast, not cereal.

What she doesn't know
is that when we're together, when we get
to a lull in conversation
I sometimes want to discuss
existentialism
(or why Mormons don't drink coffee)

For now, my sentimentality as a father resides in the future, not the past.




* Just kidding, bald friends.