Do you find yourself, as a parent, always putting a positive spin on things with your kids? You say what you know is right instead of what you’re thinking. (first example below) We have to set the good example, after all. But one time, JUST ONE TIME, wouldn’t you like to say what you were really thinking? Here are some of mine:

Said instead: Let’s look in there together. See, no reason to be afraid!
I was thinking: Unless your Aunt could squeeze herself in there, there’s nothing  scary in your closet.

Said instead: They’re good for you and help you grow up big and strong!
I was thinking: To be honest, nobody likes brussel sprouts - I wouldn’t eat them either.

Said instead: I know you’re upset. Let’s sit down and talk about it.
I was thinking: How are you going to run away from home when you’re not allowed to cross the street?

Said instead: It’s time to practice your violin. Wow, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”– that’s my favorite.
I was thinking: Let me grab my noise cancelling headphones.

Said instead: You know we don’t approve of violence in this house.
I was thinking: I think you’re right, I probably could beat up Billy’s dad.

Said instead: Please remember to use soap in the shower – it’s good to get squeaky clean.
I was thinking: You still stink – what happened? Did the smell scare the soap away?

Said instead: How would you feel if someone played a practical joke like that on you?
I was thinking: Next time, fold up a straw and stick it in the water fountain like this, the water will really shoot out and squirt the next kid right in the face!

Said instead: I’ll turn your night light on, okay?
I was thinking: The dark is nothing to be afraid of. I’ve been in it since I married your mother.

Everybody’s got at least one. What’s your “Said Instead?”

Winter’s just about gone.  You can practically smell the warming sunny springtime around the corner.  Spring Training has started, and dads all over the country are sizing up their team’s chances for the 2008 season.  Some dads are hardcore fans like Red Sox Dad and some are more casual observers, but regardless of their fervor for the game, millions of their kids will soon be grabbing a bat and glove and hitting the field. 

Some dads are getting phone calls: “Wanna coach T-Ball?”    It might be advisable to screen your phone calls for a while if you’re not the coaching type.  Take a fun lesson from Coach Damon.  Answer the phone, and you could find yourself coaching a t-ball team, which more often resembles an attempt to herd cats than a recognizable game of baseball.  But it’s all good.  Hopefully, if you can’t teach them the finer points of laying down a bunt or hitting the cut off man, you can still infuse them with the spirit of teamwork, good sportsmanship, and fun, plus possibly foster a love for America’s favorite past time. 

Gus was always interested in baseball.  But at 5 years old, it’s hard to hold a kid’s attention (especially during a long game of t-ball).  He usually played in the outfield – there’s less chance that a ball will be hit that far in the air, so he couldn’t get hurt or make a lot of errors.  Besides, the flowers and weeds were more plentiful out there.  He led the league in acres picked.  He once ran in at the end of the inning and presented my wife with a beautiful dandelion, “Here Mom!”  In fact, he picked so many flowers and pulled out so many weeds and grass patches from the outfield that one coach said to me after a game, “Looks like you have a budding horticulturist in the family.”  It’s a pastural game, what can I say?

One game is seared in my memory, though.  Gus was up to bat.  He had whiffed twice and had two strikes on him (how you whiff when the ball is sitting motionless on a tee is a wonderment in and of itself). His third swing was a thing of beauty.  He made contact and the ball shot through the third base side of the infield.  Yes I said THROUGH the infield, meaning it went into the outfield.  “WOO-HOO!” we cheered.  As the other team swarmed after the ball (nearly every opposing player on the field ran after that thing-I told you it was like herding cats).  Gus turned toward first base (with a lot of encouragement from the coach, “Go, go, go…. go to first, go to first!”) and SKIPPED all the way to first base.  No rush I guess, after all, first base was one of the few things on the field that wasn’t moving.  I couldn’t help myself.  I automatically jumped up and shouted “THERE’S NO SKIPPING IN BASEBALL!”  Very Tom Hanks-like. I got carried away.  Like skipping to first base at age 5 was going to hurt his chances of playing for the Phillies someday – yeah, right!  Oh, in case you’re wondering, Gus skipped merrily (and safely) into first base.  He may not grow up to sign a multi-million dollar contract to play professional baseball, but hopefully he learned a thing or two about the game, teamwork and sportsmanship during his little league experience. 

Who knows, he may grow up to be a Master Gardener, or a….please tell me there’s no practical career path for skipping aficionados. We parents would probably do well to relax a little, sit back and just try to enjoy their moment in the sun, I think.  It’s more fun that way.  Play Ball!

Okay…I’m in a pickle, and not one of those sweet little gherkin pickles, either.  It’s more of a huge sour pickle you have to fish out of barrel at the deli.  The kind that’s so sour, it sucks your face inside out when you take a bite.  That’s me right now…in a pickle, face sucked in – over a barrel.

As I’ve mentioned, Gus is a bright boy.  He’s also excruciatingly literal.  He’s very exacting when it comes to speech.  He really puts the pound in expound, the con in conversation, the dis in….well, you get the idea.  When it comes to semantics, he’s pedantic.  He’s always been that way.  When he was younger, we couldn’t even read Horton Hears a Who from cover to cover without the following:  

Gus: Why’s it called a Who?
JD:   Why?
Gus: Yes, it should be a what.
JD:   Who?
Gus: No, not a who – a what…why?
JD:   What?
Gus:  Exactly!

I should have known I was in for it when he first spoke. You know that time period when you constantly prompt the child “Can you say Grammy?”  “Say thank you”  “That’s a puppy dog – can you say dog?”  Not my boy; his first real recognizable word was tortellini! My brother in-law was cooking dinner when he said to Gus “We’re having tortellini for dinner…can you say tortellini?”  “TORTELLINI” came the refrain - as clear as a bell.  It’s true! I have witnesses, albeit flabbergasted witnesses.

Anyway, here’s the bumpy, sour, over-a-barrel pickle part: Gus slacks off on his homework because he knows he can still get A’s and B’s on his report card.  The pickle is that we’d always told him we expect A’s and B’s on his report card – nothing less.  I had no idea he’d be so literal about it as to ensure A’s and B’s!  He’ll avoid his homework and pull down a few F’s knowing he can rebound with tests, quizzes and so on and still muster an A or a B.  In the meantime, my blood pressure goes through the roof because he’s getting F’s by simply not trying!  He says, “but you always told me to get A’s and B’s ON MY REPORT CARD – that’s what I’m doing.”  I can’t argue that point.  It’s the truth.  So now I am scrambling to elevate the “A’s and B’s on your report card” mantra to a “work ethic/do the right thing/ always give your best effort/if it weren’t for the F’s, you’d have straight A’s” doctrine. 

Lesson learned:  Anything you say (to a kid) can and will be used against you…literally.  I would not at all be surprised if the boy practices law or sells used cars someday.

So you see?  It’s a pickle.  Have any suggestions?  This wasn’t in the instruction manual.

My family went to the movies last week.  After we enjoyed the movie and were leaving the theater, there,  out of the darkness of the theater strolled five large figures; two adults whom we recognized, with three boys we marveled at.  The adults were long-time friends of ours from back in the pre-parenthood era, when we were just a couple of couples.  We had not seen them since our son was about 4 years old, and their three boys were about 5 and 2 (the youngest boys are twins).  As parenting responsibilities and life in general compounded, we unfortunately lost touch over the years, pausing only to send each other the obligatory Christmas card.  So we stood outside the theater and caught up a bit on what has been happening in our lives.  Our son is now in seventh grade, their oldest is an eighth grader and the twins are in fifth grade.  The striking thing to me was their oldest boy – the eighth grader is six feet one inch tall.  That’s a full inch taller than me and he’s still growing!  I haven’t had to look up to an eighth grader since I was in elementary school.  The young man wears a size 13 shoe!  Unfortunately he is not interested in playing sports.  It seems a shame to waste that great height advantage on the chess club.   It then occurred to me - not only am I not taller than an eighth grader, but I’m not smarter than a fifth grader either.  What’s happened to me?  My son and I play along with “Are you smarter than a fifth grader” on TV and have the home game on DVD.  I lose so often it’s practically habitual.  I don’t think I even  knew that stuff back when I was expected to know that stuff.  What’s a dangling participle anyway?    My son, however, is a bright guy and has no problem making honor roll in school, playing that game, or taunting me when he wins. After I got over the initial shock and awe at the concept of being both overgrown and outsmarted by a couple of early adolescents, it struck me – that’s the great thing about watching kids grow up. They all grow and progress at their own rate: height, weight, looks, coordination and so on (sometimes too fast for we parents).  No matter where you are, there will be someone shorter than you, or taller than you, thinner or heavier, athletic or otherwise.  That makes us unique, and it’s just plain fun to observe the kids develop.  People generally progress at their own pace, so I try to put that in perspective for my son, Gus.  He’s surely not the tallest, the smallest, the fastest, or the slowest so it’s not really useful for him to compare himself with others.  When Gus is upset because someone consistently hits the ball farther, or when he gets unduly hubristic because of his own higher grades, I remind him that everyone has their own strengths.  I also encourage him to focus on that which he has the ability to control: himself.   The only person who could possibly be a better or worse Gus, is Gus.  I hope he gets that concept.  In the meantime, I think I’ll take my own advice, look up to eighth graders when necessary and then polish my third grade grammar knowledge – you never know when you might leave your participle dangling.

It’s a proud moment when you realize your child did the right thing without parental prompting. When you see that they’ve made a decision or reacted to a situation in a positive way, and did so all on their own.

We recently received, in the mail, a letter from the Principal at Gus’ school. Correspondence from the Principal is not, generally speaking, a good thing. Your mind races: overdue book fines; detention; he’s abandoned his schooling to run away with the circus – all kinds of alarming things go through your mind. Fortunately, my son’s school also makes it a point to share with parents, the good things a child does. Inside the envelope with the letter was a card recognizing a good deed that Gus was caught doing in school. He had apparently helped someone whose books fell and were strewn all over the hallway. This should come as no surprise, I guess, since last year he received several “gotcha’s” from his teacher – being noticed for doing the right thing. At the end of the last school year he was even presented with the Good Citizenship Award by a State Legislator. Sounds like an Orson Welles movie: Citizen Gus! Anyway, I asked him about the event for which he was now being recognized and he said, “Who gives?!? I do that stuff all the time and they never notice - I just got caught this time!” Okay, I did mention he’s now a teenager, right? So what would a conversation be without a little attitude? Suffice it to say we were proud of him and appreciated the Principal’s notification – he’s doing the right thing, making some good decisions and being a benefit to others – even if he hasn’t taken out the recycling or cleaned his Hamster cage this week.

This proud parent moment reminds me that today is the third Monday in January, which makes it Martin Luther King Jr. Day – a National Holiday observed since 1986. Congress enacted the holiday so Americans would reflect on the principles of equality and nonviolence espoused by Martin Luther King, Jr. I am reminded of a couple quotations I had seen some time ago that ring true to me and I am glad to see reflected in some of my son’s behavior:

That old law about ‘an eye for an eye’ leaves everybody blind. The time is always right to do the right thing.
- Martin Luther King, Jr.

Life’s most urgent question is: what are you doing for others?

- Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yes, both quotes are by the man whose legacy we recognize this day, both sentiments that are surely good inspirations for personal improvement, good considerations for each of us, and good principles to see our children practice.

The Pack ‘n Play turned 20 years old on December 3rd. We had a little celebration here in the office to commemorate the occasion – noisemakers, birthday cake, sparkling cider (honest)- the whole shebang! It’s quite an accomplishment for a product to set the standard for an entire category and remain the leader for two decades!

I was fortunate to have been a part of the Pack ‘n Play team here at Graco for about a quarter of that time…..It began as a simple rectangular playard that folded easily to go places. It has since evolved into an essential part of a new mom’s wish list and home with lots of useful features being added to the product over the years.

Personally, I found that the earlier you start using a playard with your child, the easier life will be and the better you can keep your child contained (that’s the word moms use in research)- so you know where he or she is. Unfortunately I waited a bit too long and couldn’t keep my son in it long enough to get anything done around the house. He’d always be jumping out, running through the house, asking to borrow the car keys, whatever. But really we did not use it early enough for him to become accustomed to it and so by the time we tried it, he was used to the freedom of the open hallway….ZOOM! He was off to the races. So I grew accustomed to having projects half-finished, showers half-taken, and meals half-cooked.

I became rather skilled at running after him saying “NO,NO,NO,NO”….”SIT,SIT,SIT SIT” “STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!”

I spent nearly 5 years working on the Pack ‘n Play team and envied the moms who, in focus groups, would tell us how wonderful playards are in helping them get things done around the house and keeping their little ones out of trouble. 25 million kids using Pack ‘n Plays over the past 20 years, and I get Harry Houdini – the escape artist! Now he’s 13 and can’t get out of bed in the morning! But I suppose it all works out…he’s turning into a really good kid. Maybe now I can get back to some of those incomplete projects around the house, take a nice long shower, and eat a well done steak for a change.

Happy Birthday Pack ‘n Play!