A Sticky Situation So you're three years old, you've had your dinner followed by your bath, and you've brushed your teeth. Sounds like the perfect pre-bedtime ritual to me.

I made the mistake of promising Zoe dessert if she ate all her dinner. After leaving the table following completion of her entree for the aforementioned bath and toothbrushing under Mama's supervision, little did I suspect she would return to the kitchen--white t-shirt, wet hair and all--demanding I hold to my dessert promise. And, catching me preparing a highly-radioactive microwave s'more for Jesse, guess what she wanted for herself?

Years of formal legal training extracted from watching Judge Judy told me that Zoe's leaving the table constituted a breach of the dessert contract and I would ultimately prevail in court after a protracted, ugly, expensive legal battle...but how could I say no? Not when one of my favorite musicals is Oliver! and a former orphan is looking me square in the eye to ask, "Please Papa, I want s'more."

Next month, Zoe returns to the pediatric dentist for a checkup. Surprisingly, the dentist found her teeth to be in in remarkably good shape compared to what we were expecting to hear on her first visit shortly after bringing her home.

Six months later on a highly sugar-laden diet? Hmmmmm....

  ¶ 6:42 AM 1 comments

  Going For The Gold Just in case the WNBA doesn't come-a-callin', there's always the balance beam and parallel bars. In a moving ceremony following the completion of another session of gymnastics, Zoe received another medal for the family trophy case while standing against a backdrop of an officially-licensed U.S. Olympic Committee beach towel. (Okay, so technically all the kids got medals...but Zoe really was the best.)

But as good as she is, she's no Vera Sessina, another native Yekaterinburger and rhythmic gymnastics champ.

Well, not yet anyway.  ¶ 10:34 PM 1 comments

  Hoop Dreams What could make a Papa prouder than to find out his child is a star athlete in training? The thought that she might one day discover a cure for cancer or bring world peace suddenly goes out the window when she picks up a basketball and displays a natural talent for the game.

I've harbored a lot of resentment towards Russians and basketball, going back to the 1972 Olympics, when the gold medal dreams of a nine-year-old American boy were shattered by the most blatantly biased refereeing ever witnessed on the hardwood.

Paybacks are hell. You'll get yours in 2024.

  ¶ 6:09 AM 1 comments

  Reading...well, sort of... Reading is now part of Zoe's bedtime ritual. At her insistence, Mama reads to her every night, sometimes two or three books. Jesse and I are also allowed to read to her on occasion. And now, she also reads to herself.
No, the words aren't really leaping out at her yet at age 3-1/2, but the letters are mastered and she has been exposed to the stories enough times that she will talk through a fairly close synopsis of each page.  ¶ 10:13 PM 0 comments