The Bond Between Father and Daughter or I Never Thought Phil Collins Would Make Me Cry

Most nights, when the inevitable bedtime rolls around, I lay down with The Peanut for a few minutes. We talk, we giggle, we say prayers. Sometimes she will pepper me with questions about any one of a thousand random topics, sometimes she will debrief me on her day at school, who was a good listener and who was not, who had to sit in the "thinking chair" and the unfortunate choice that got them banished there, and sometimes we just lay there, enjoying a few quiet moments as our hearts beat close together. I do not exaggerate when I say that these few minutes are the highlight of my day. I treasure each one of them because I know that one day, all too soon, they will come to an end.

Last night, after all the night time routines had been completed (the running of the bath, the brushing of the teeth, the reading of a story, and the fetching of the glass of water) we went into her room. The Peanut hopped into bed, American Girl Doll and newest Build-A-Bear (we have so many of these bears I think our house could get federal funding as a preserve) in hand. I performed my duly appointed duties, turning off the overhead light, switching on the Nemo night light, and turning on the radio. Much like her father, The Peanut loves to drift off to sleep listening to music. My mother-in-law is a loyal listener of 99.5 WJBR and my daughter insists on being able to listen to "Grammy Music" at night.

The Barnes and Noble Peeper or I Am One Nosy S.O.B.

If you have been to a Borders or a Barnes and Noble lately, you've seen them. They stand in line like regular people. They linger at the shelves, seemingly engrossed in their perusal of the titles. They pace past the couches and amble slowly through the cafe. If you haven't seen them, then surely you have felt them. Their beady little eyes always roving, sliding over your personal topography where they don't belong, leaving a slug's trail of violation in their wake. You can almost feel it when their gaze falls upon you and you can almost see the gears in their slimy minds begin to turn, smell the noxious fumes of their thoughts. You've seen them, haven't you?

The Barnes and Noble Peepers. That despicable class of individuals who wander the carpeted aisles of the book store, spending an unhealthy amount of time checking out what other people are buying. With no regard for personal privacy they shove their metaphorical noses into the heart of your impending purchases. With a raised eyebrow, a knowing smile, or a disgusted smirk they pass judgement on your personality and the fortitude of your character based solely on your choice of reading material. They are the scum of the literary world and...I have a confession to make...a realization I just came to today while standing in line to purchase a book.

Kids As Goal Posts or Please God, Don't Ever Let Me Be This Dad!

Though I have yet to perform such a singularly moronic paternal act, I am sure my time is coming. Think I will just laugh at this guy in the meantime.

Taking My Students Back in Time or Why I Love Being a History Teacher

As a teacher of United States civics and history to fifth graders, I have one of the most uniquely joyful, interesting, and awe inspiring jobs in the world. To be able to expose fresh and (no matter what popular perception may have to say otherwise) eager to learn minds to the men and women who have had a hand in bringing us to where we are today as a nation, in the case of most of them for the very first time in their young lives, is not only an honor and a privilege, it is also a real blast!

Take today for instance.

In class this afternoon we got into a fifteen minute long debate about who was responsible for the firing of the first shot of the civil war, North or South. The most conventional answer tends to say South. After all it was a South Carolina man (in defense of a state that had, four months earlier, dissolved her bonds of union and seceded from the United States of America), Edmund Ruffin (possibly, but not definitively) who fired that first shell at the men huddled in the cold darkness of Fort Sumter in 1861. But, when one considers the fact that Lincoln notified the South Carolina legislature that he was sending a ship laden with fresh supplies for the men who were running out of food, water, and even fuel for their lamps, that he notified them openly, knowing full well how they would receive the news, perhaps the answer is not so conventional...or obvious.

Tangled or Why My Daughter Wants a Horse and a Chameleon.

Today was the last day of my glorious eleven day winter break. To finish with a bang The Wife suggested we grab The Peanut, throw her in the car, drive down to our local multiplex and pay a small fortune to take in a matinée. I thought the idea sounded just spiffy and I told her so (yes, I used the word spiffy and yes, I did get smacked for it).

The Peanut got a digital camera from Jolly Old Saint Nick last week and ever since has slowly been gathering a photographic record of every corner of our house from every conceivable angle. 'Studies in Dust Bunnies' I call it. When I tracked her down she had her new LaLa Loopsie doll suspended in midair over the open toilet bowl, attempting to snap a shot without getting her fingers in the frame. It would have made, I am sure, quite a surreal photograph, the interpretation of which would have been up for some serious debate. As much as I hated to interrupt my own little Andy Warhol, I called her out of the bathroom and asked her what movie she wanted to go see. The answer was as loud as it was immediate.

"TANGLED!"

The New Years Resolution or Why I Happily Lie to Myself.

"To lose those ten pounds...or fifteen...or twenty...or fifty."

"To read more than just the spare magazines in my doctor's office."

"To be a better person by spending time with my annoying ____________ (fill in family members name)."

"To give more to charity and less to the guys at Saturday night poker."

"To stop stalking housewives shopping at the local mall in their pajama jeans."

"To learn a foreign language so I can understand the Independent Film Channel."

"To finally get that weird boil that keeps changing colors on my ass looked at."

"To read my Bible, Koran, Talmud, Satanic Scriptures, copy of The Wiccan Rede, Book of Mormon, or Whatever Athiests Choose to Read, from cover to cover (whichever applies)."