E, entranced, watching Zooey sing The National Anthem.

“She’s pretty,” he said, staring at her as if she were glowing or something.

“She’s a princess,” a minute later, perhaps because of her dress.

Then he asked, “Do you love her?”

I laughed, and said, no, I love mommy.

“You don’t love anyone on TV? You can love people on TV.”

When she was done singing, he had to watch it again. And again. And still wanted to watch it again.

While girls seem to love E, he doesn’t usually seem quite so entranced as he was by Zooey. He’s far more likely to flirt, or turn away, shy.

He loves to watch people sing. He also seems to notice whenever girls wear red on TV.

So last night, Zooey had it going on as far as my four year old is concerned.

Here’s the video of Zooey’s performance that someone posted, as long as youtube leaves it up. Hit the red box to get rid of the obnoxious text boxes.

I finally finished my first novel Available Darkness, which is now available at Amazon in print and for the Kindle device and app.

I’d like to thank my co-author and friend Sean Platt for helping see this book through to completion and kicking my ass when needed. And thank you to the readers who kept emailing us asking when we’d finish (we ran the first half of Available Darkness as  a serialized book on Collective Inkwell more than a year ago before putting it on hiatus).

And of course, thank you to my awesome wife, for taking so much of the brunt of the household and parenting workload while I holed away in my dungeon finishing the book.

For those who have read the first part online, you’ll likely want to re-read from the beginning. We edited, re-edited, and repeated the process many times, changing a few things here and there, and tweaking the story to as close as perfect as we could get without holding onto it forever.

Here’s the back of the book jacket info:

The Darkness Has Awoken.

FBI Special Agent Caleb Baldwin is on the hunt for a serial killer who has left a trail of burned bodies. One of those victims – his wife. As he gets closer to finding the killer, he falls deeper into an elaborate conspiracy.

A man wakes buried alive with no memory of who or what he is. In his pocket, a note: “Avoid the sunlight and don’t touch anybody.” Now he is being hunted by the FBI while trying to remember his monstrous past. He must control the darkness within before it consumes him and the child whose life he must protect.

11-year-old Abigail was dying slowly each day as the prisoner of a sick man. Until she is saved by the most unlikely of heroes – a vampire with a deadly touch. He is her only hope, and she may hold the key to unlocking the memories of his hidden past.

Past, present, fate, and future are on a collision course as the hours of AVAILABLE DARKNESS are ticking away and a force greater than anything the world has ever seen threatens humanity.

Available Darkness is the first book in an epic journey that reinvents vampire mythology with a fast paced, character-driven thriller that blends action, mystery, fantasy, and horror in an addictive, tragically romantic story.

I hope you enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it.

Available Darkness is available at Amazon in paperback or eBook version for your Kindle device at a very low price.

If you read the book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. When you’re a new writer, reviews really help you get word out about your books.

Thank you for reading,

David

E brushing his teeth, Dec. 2009

My wife was sleeping the other morning when E came into the room and woke her up. Usually, he’d crawl up and snuggle with her for a few minutes until she got out of bed, but this time, he said he had to go to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he hadn’t returned.

And the house was unusually quiet.

A quiet house with a three year old is never a sign of good things unless said child is sleeping.

So, my wife got out of bed, went into the bathroom and there he was – hunched over the toilet, carefully squeezing the toothpaste tube (one of those pump-action ones where toothpaste just spurts out the top at the press of a button) and watching as striped dollops of Aquafresh For Kids splish-splashed into the toilet below.

When he saw my wife looming over him, E got excited, pointing ecstatically into the toilet bowl, “Look! Mommy, Look what I did!”

An artist is born!

He was smiling, though it was kind of hard to see, as his mouth was also covered in toothpaste, looking like a rabid dog.

Not only had he squeezed toothpaste into the toilet, but also on the toilet seat … and into the sink … and … all over the tub!

“Why did you do that?!” my wife shrieked.

“Because daddy left the lid off.”

So, yeah, it always comes back to me.

Got an ‘artistic’ child story? Share it below. I’d love to hear it.

*******

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Larry was a Christmas gift from a family member, even though my wife has said many, many, many times – no more pets. I’m guessing this family member (who reads the blog) figured a fish was something simple and not a big deal. Besides, my son has a fascination with fish, and loves to look at them whenever he’s somewhere with an aquarium.

So, to him, a fish is an awesome gift, something you can keep in a bowl and it will live forever and ever, Amen.

To my wife and I, it’s just one more thing to take care of.

E LOVES his fish. When told he could name the fish, he named it … Larry. Actually, he named it Larry E (his full name), which E thought was hilarious. He talked to Larry, fed Larry, and they bonded. When we went up to Larry’s bowl and spoke to him, he’d flap his little side fins. Maybe he was just scared, but I’d like to think he was communicating, telling us how awesome we are.

Seeing how much E was bonding with the fish, I figured I’d better ensure this thing lasts a while because the last conversation I want to have with my three year old is Why Things Die.

I’ve never had a fish, so I went online and did some research. I remember a former roommate of mine had a Betta and it died when the water was too chlorinated. I read some Betta-related forums (there really is a website, or 400 devoted to any imaginable topic, by the way) and discovered that you can’t just keep Bettas in a bowl!

It’s a) cruel and b) actually more work to clean the bowl, requiring a weekly water change rather than a monthly change you’d do with a larger aquarium.

So, now I had to get an aquarium.

I bought a 10 gallon aquarium, rocks, plants, and a little “house” to hide in, and spent $100.

A few people on Facebook balked, saying I could pretty much keep a Betta in a cup with sewer water and it would be fine, that I really didn’t need to spend money. Maybe so, but I know at least one dead fish and a forum full of Betta fans who would strongly disagree.

And I don’t want to take any chances.

Larry is, after all, E’s new friend.

So I set the aquarium up and then realized – hey, these things are FREAKING HEAVY when filled with water! Eight to 10 pounds per gallon, in fact. So, now I’ve come to the realization that the little bookshelf I figured I’d put the tank on, will not hold the tank for long.

So, back to the fish store… to buy a stand.

Seventy dollars and three hours later, I had the stand assembled, and put the aquarium on it. E was excited to introduce Larry to his new home. However, I needed to ensure the water was the right temperature, treat it with chemicals to kill the chlorine in the water, and then take a water sample to the pet store to test it, so they can then tell me if it was safe to put Larry in his new home or if I needed to add more chemicals.

Of course, I needed to buy more chemicals. And had to wait another 24 hours to put Larry in his new home.

When I went to assemble the filter, the intake pipes were too long, even though the filter came as a set with the aquarium. I decided to leave off a couple of the connector tubes, and it seemed to work okay with a shorter reach.

On Sunday, we introduced Larry to his new beautiful, spacious, and safe home.

E was so excited! He kept talking to Larry, walking up to the aquarium and saying, “Hi, Larry.”

At night, he even brought a book over to “read” a story to Larry. Never mind that it was a cook book and E was making stories up, the sight was about the most adorable thing I’d ever seen.

So, while we didn’t want a fish, Larry was working his way into our hearts – and E’s.

Then this morning, I woke up after my wife had already taken E to daycare. She sent an email to me asking, “Um, where’s Larry?”

Huh?

I went into the nook where Larry’s home sat, and noticed that the filter sounded different. Something was blocking the intake pipes.

Something being Larry, who got sucked into the tubes and died.

Oh shit.

Turns out that one of the pieces I left off was a guard to prevent fish from getting sucked into the filter.

I felt awful. Here I was trying to protect the fish and my stupidity killed him.

I got in touch with my wife and asked her if E knew. She said, no, he was looking for Larry in the morning and figured that he was hiding in his house.

Phew!

So, back to the fish store…

And I found a “new” Larry, one which looks pretty much how I remembered Larry to look. I brought the fish home and put him in the tank, hoping my son wouldn’t notice that this fish is not, in fact, Larry.

My son is SUPER observant. Eerily, so. He notices details I’d never even considered. So, I was anxious for him to come home, praying he wouldn’t notice. Praying daddy wouldn’t have to explain death so soon. Let him keep his innocence as long as possible before the world destroys it.

I was getting dinner ready when E came home. He hugged me and then raced over to the tank and pointed, and yelled, “Mommy, He’s here! He WAS hiding!”

Phew.

And then, just as I was relaxing in the knowledge that we’d passed New Larry off, my son asked, “How did he change colors?”

“Magic,” my wife said.

And thankfully, E still believes in magic.

Do you have a Larry-type story? Share it in the comments and tell us what happened.

(Project 30 Days, my attempts to change 12 things about my life, 30 days at a time, launched on Monday. Please check it out, and maybe even join me!)

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I had slept maybe an hour when my wife woke me up for our trip to the zoo. I was working all night and my body ached from assembling furniture. Somehow, being the worst handyman ever, I also managed to hurt my arm in the process. I was not ready to go anywhere, much less drive an hour or so to the zoo.

However, we promised our three year old son, E, that today we’d take a special trip. Together. As a family.

Given our hectic schedules, a seemingly endless loop of colds my son picks up at daycare and then passes to us, and the general lack of time available, family trips are rare. So, my son was super excited, though he didn’t yet know where we were going. All he knew is that he was going somewhere awesome with mommy and daddy, and he woke up psyched and ready to go.

And I could hardly move.

I showered, put on clothes, and did all the things you do to force your body to wake up, but I felt like I’d been beaten down. Sleep heals you, we all know. Whenever I feel horrible, a good eight to ten hours usually picks me right up. But my sleep was cut short and I seriously wondered if I didn’t get back to sleep, perhaps something horrible would happen. I felt that crappy.

However, I’ve also wanted to take E to the zoo for more than a year and a half. He loves watching animals on TV and I knew he’d be out of his mind seeing them in real life. I would’ve taken him when he was one, but my wife thought he might not be old enough to appreciate the experience yet. So, we’ve been waiting for the right age and the right scheduling circumstances when we could go.

This was going to be that day.

I wanted to go more than anything. But my body didn’t. I asked my wife if she could take E to do something else for the day, because I really wanted to be there when he goes to the zoo for the first time.

She found something else to do, but she looked sad, trying not to appear too disappointed. But I could tell she was. One more instance of my schedule preventing us from having a normal life. She told E that daddy’s arm hurt and he’d go next time.

“But I want daddy to go,” E said, his face sad, his eyes big.

I could hardly look in his eyes. I gave him a big hug. Tears formed in the corner of my eyes as I internally scolded myself, “You big baby, just tough it out, go!”

But another part of me shot back, “You’ll be miserable. The lines will be long. You’ll hate every minute of it and your annoyance will poison everyone’s good time. Worst of all, if you don’t sleep, you WILL get sick. You ALWAYS get sick when you’re running on empty. What good are you if you get sick? Just go to bed. You can do this another time.”

So, I walked my wife and son to the door, hugged them goodbye and said our sad farewells.

I shrugged off my clothes and dropped into bed like a boulder. I felt like the worst father ever, guilt gnawing at my insides. I thought on how my own father sacrificed DECADES working a blue collar job that busted his ass day-in and day-out, and I can’t be bothered to go through pain for one day?

Life is a series of moments. Oftentimes, the ones which seem insignificant at the time, turn out to make the most profound differences with far-reaching effects. The trick is to recognize these moments while they are still happening — while you can still change events.

Think back on your childhood.

I’m sure there’s some instance where you were disappointed in your parents. Something they didn’t do for you or, more likely, a time they weren’t there for you. As adults, we understand the sacrifices our parents made, the tough choices they had. But as children, all we know is that mommy or daddy didn’t have time for us when it mattered most. Something was more important than us.

And then something clicked in me. I had to go! Some part of me knew that I would never have this moment back. This opportunity to be a good father and husband. To be present.

I threw on my clothes and raced outside, hoping that they’d not yet left.

They hadn’t.

My wife was just about to get in the car, after putting E in his car seat and getting all the day’s supplies ready. She looked up, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going.” I said. I didn’t want fanfare or to make a big deal about my sacrifice — I hate martyrs. I just wanted to be there for them. And to see the look on E’s face when he saw the animals.

I opened the back door; E was in his car seat. I told him that daddy was coming along.

“Yay, daddy’s going!” he clapped with a big smile. “Does your arm still hurt?”

“I’ll be okay,” I said and kissed him.

We had fun at the zoo. E got to see how each species of animal pooped, which of course brought lots of laughter, and I got a special moment I’ll never forget.

And I now know how it feels to be a good father.

As always, thank you for reading.

"Hi, Zebra!"

E is smiling "Cheese" in the wrong direction. And no, I'm not pregnant. I don't think so, anyway.

This was not posed.

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“Why does he still use a paci?”

“Isn’t he a bit old for a paci?”

“Who ate all the cookies-n-cream ice cream?”

Okay, ignore that last one. But you get the point.

Some people would go so far as to tell stories of some kid who used a paci past the age of one and was last seen on The Jerry Springer Show or something. I don’t know why, but pacifiers really bring out the Parenting Critics. Well meaning or not, people pushing their unsolicited thoughts on something as benign as pacifiers annoyed me.

Listen, I know I’m just a dad, but I’m not completely clueless.

We’d actually given some thought to how long we should let E use a paci. I read up on the subject and most of the advice agreed that I didn’t need to rush him off the paci. In fact, doing so, before he is ready, could have some adverse reactions.

The paci is a comfort thing for a child, a means to cope with a stressful world. Like a kid’s version of Jack Daniels if you will. So why take a paci away just because some people subscribe to some “ideal age” to stop using it?

Unless the paci was causing some problem with his teeth or something, I figured E would quit using it when he was ready. And to be honest, he looks cute with a paci dangling from his mouth. It reminds me of the hundreds of times he used to lay in arms and I’d rock him to sleep while he sucked away on the paci.

My wife was leaning the other way, though. She wanted to wean him off the paci sooner rather than later. Perhaps she was more concerned or maybe was hearing criticisms more often. Or maybe she better knows the right time for things.  In any event, we knew one thing – we’d have to be very careful how we got rid of the paci.

As I said before, my son is super sensitive. Though he’s a good-natured, happy, funny child, he gets stressed very easily. If Wow Wow Wubbzy is stuck in a marshmallow pit, my son is on the verge of tears, wanting the fictional cartoon character to be safe. And when our stupid cats decide to fight one another – God, my cats are annoying – my son gets so upset he pukes all over the place.

So, like I said, we’d need to be careful how we took away his favorite soother.

So a couple of months ago, my wife saw an opportunity.

E was graduating from his crib, which he’d had since birth, to a Big Boy Bed. He was rather excited about the idea of having his own bed and had even picked out some Toy Story sheets and a blanket for it.

My wife informed him that now that he’s a Big Boy in a Big Boy Bed, he doesn’t need a paci anymore.

Surprisingly, E said okay.

“Can I give my paci to Baby Gabe?” he asked, in reference to a friend’s infant son.

So E put the little blue paci in an envelope, walked it out to the mailbox, and stuffed it in to send off to someone who would need it more.

And just like that, it was bye-bye paci.

He’s only asked for it once or twice since in the few months since he sent it off to Baby Gabe.

As for The Last Paci, my wife put a note on the envelope instructing the mailman to please throw it away. For some reason or another, she must’ve gone back out to the mailbox after E went for a nap and retrieved the paci. I put it away for safe keeping.

While E was ready to let go of the paci, I wasn’t.

And while E is anticipating his new role as a Big Boy, I’m not even close to ready to say goodbye to my Little Boy.

****

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So, naturally, when I found out that Toy Story 3 was being released on the big screen this summer, I was practically flying around the house myself. This, my friends, is a magical moment – the first trip to the movie theater with my son and a Pixar movie, to boot. Double awesome!

I’ve never been sure WHEN is the appropriate age to bring a child to a movie theater. Some parents bring infants – an act which would be met with extreme prejudice if I owned a theater (but that’s another post for another day). I wanted to wait until E was both old enough to appreciate a movie and mature enough not to run through the aisles screaming like a … well, three year old.

While he’s got the good behavior down, he is a bit sensitive. And by “a bit”, I mean, VERY. He got upset during THE COMMERCIAL for the movie, where one of the toddlers was going to put Buzz Lightyear in her mouth. However, if that’s the worst the movie had to offer, we could talk him down from that. Right?

So, tonight was the big night. My wife and I told him prior to dinner that we’d be going somewhere special tonight.

“The mall?”

Um, no, more special than that.

Arrival

We dressed him in his Toy Story shirt and drove to the theater. As we approached on foot, he wasn’t sure what to make of the large building. As we got closer, he saw a Toy Story 3 poster on the wall and knew we were going to do something which involved Toy Story.

We went to the snack counter, where a girl called him “cutie” and asked what he wanted to eat.

We’re going to see a movie AND eat junk food?! Is this place Heaven?

His eyes lit up at all the colorful candies and treats he’d never seen before. There was one snack he recognized, though – Chocolate M&M’s. She handed him a bag, about 10 times larger than those tiny snack packs! His eyes lit up.

Sidenote – How on Earth can anyone justify charging nearly $25 bucks for two sodas, a small water, and a bag of candy?

E, dwarfed in the big, overstuffed bucket seats, looked around at the other kids in the theater, “are they gonna watch Toy Story, too?”

The previews started. E’s eyes were huge. This screen was WAAAAY bigger than the TV at home!

I was excited too, as I LOVE everything about Pixar, from the company’s creative process to their business strategy to their dedication to great movies, to the art and storytelling. Not only was this E’s first movie in a theater, this was my first Pixar movie on the big screen.

During a preview of some movie about talking dogs and cats, E got a bit nervous. I’d be nervous too at the prospect of my cats talking and plotting world domination. Not that I’d be scared of their leadership abilities; but I just KNOW they’d make me change the litter box every day.

The traditional pre-movie Pixar short came on – Night and Day, a great little feature with a deceptively profound message.

And Now For Our Feature Presentation …

Then, the movie began … with what I can only describe as a scene about as jarring to a three year old as the opening massacre sequence of Saving Private Ryan.

The toys, characters he’s come to love and be fond of thanks to the prior movies, were fighting one another, blowing things up, trying to kill one another, and were stuck on a train as it derailed and went flying off a cliff! And this was all in the opening five minutes!

A Toypocalypse!

E was gnawing on his fingers, watching nervously as harm befell his friends.

We tried to calm him down, tell him things would be okay, that they were “just playing pretend” and it would all be okay.

Meet Rex

Now’s a good time to mention that E has recently developed a weird fear of the dinosaur character, Rex. I’m not sure what spawned the fear. As dinosaurs go, Rex has to be the least dangerous looking one in movie history. However, E has become convinced that Rex, who happens to be on one of his blankets, is “looking at him” during the night. He doesn’t want us to take the Toy Story blanket out of the crib, mind you. He just wants us to put Rex at the bottom, where the goofy dino can’t look at him.

So, back to the movie … at just about the time we were trying to calm E down, Rex shows up on screen, BIGGER AND SCARIER AND ROARIER THAN EVER! I mean, we’re talking Godzilla-big and Aliens-popping-out-of-the-shipmate’s-chest scary!

E lost it!

“I want to go home with you, mommy and daddy,” he repeated over and over, crying.

Here we’d been telling him we were going somewhere special after dinner and by special, we meant, “We’re going to watch your favorite characters fight and kill one another.”

I can only imagine the thoughts running through his head.

Which brings me to a question for Pixar: Why did the opening of Toy Story 3 have to be so … violent? I mean, this is a kid’s movie, right? Yet the characters were attacking and threatening one another and doing things which seemed a bit more extreme than the movie’s G-Rating would suggest.

I hate to be critical of any movie for its content, particularly a Pixar movie, as it makes me feel like one of those clueless people who complain about the content of everything and how things were so much better in the good ole’ days when people slept in different beds on TV, children addressed adults with “ma’am and sir”, and well, yeah, there were the occasional lynchings of people based on their skin color, women had no rights and abuse was rampant but well-hidden, but other than that, the world was perfect.  I don’t want to be that person. And maybe my son is just too young or too sensitive and the movie wasn’t meant for him. But, did it have to start out so action-packed and violent?

I feel a bit let down. I’d hoped to bond with my son over some beautiful Pixar movie magic. But instead, he’s traumatized. So, please, Pixar, I’m going to wait one more year for our “First Movie” when the next Cars movie comes out. But I swear to God if Cars 2 starts off with Mater being dissected in a junk yard by the evil guy from the Saw movies, you’ve no longer got a friend in me.

Questions for the reader: Did you see Toy Story 3? What did you think of it (without posting spoilers)? How old were your kids when you brought them to a movie?

UPDATE: E went and saw Toy Story 3 with his cousins. And while he was still scared a bit, he did watch the whole thing and loved it. He still likes Toy Story 2 the best. I’m sure, once he’s a bit older, he’ll like Toy Story 3 a lot. Unfortunately, I wasn’t with him so I have to wait a bit longer to see it for myself.

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Drawing with E June 2009

There is a moment in the life of a writer where all the hard work, studying and practice finally pays off. That moment where you cross the threshold from being a wannabe writer to a real writer—meaning that somebody found your work good enough to publish and (ideally) pay for. There is something magical in seeing your dream realized in the physical form. I’ve been lucky enough to see both a book of my comics published and to have my dream job of writing for a newspaper. But this weekend, I had an experience which eclipsed them all.

You see, I wrote a story for my three year old son, E.

I can’t yet say what the story is about, other than to say there’s lots of tickling involved in the reading of it.

The story takes up just two pages of my spiral notepad and has a few illustrations scrawled along the side, but when I read it to him, his eyes lit up in a magical (to use the word again) way that reminds me of everything childhood is about. The excitement, the imagination, the fun of it all. And is the exact reason I always wanted to be a writer—to make someone feel that magic.

The story was such a hit that he asked me to read it four times in a row. Of course, I’m sure that the tickling might have had something to do with his requests, as he loves to be tickled. But I can tell that the words also connected with him.

The next day, I was surprised to find him looking under the couch, where he had last seen me stuff the notebook. He wanted me to read him the story again. And then—and here’s the exact moment that my heart gushed—he asked to read the story to his mommy and daddy.

While he can’t yet read, he went over the two pages, recalling the story as best he remembered and then tickled us at the appropriate moments.

I still have a lot of yet unrealized writing goals—my first published novel, the sale of my first TV and movie scripts, to name a few—but I don’t think any moment will ever rival this weekend.

I’m working on the illustrations for a proper copy of the book, which I can’t wait to put in his little hands. We had lain down on the floor the other night with a stack of paper and a pile of crayons doodling the story’s characters. He loves them. I love making them. I love him.

Question: If you’re a writer, has there been one magical moment which defines it for you?

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E Crying Dec. 2008

My two year old son (who is turning three next week), E, is at an age where he understands things on a deeper level than ever. However, with that understanding comes new confusion for him.

We were at my parents’ house last night sitting in the dining area and talking while E was sitting on the couch watching his new favorite show, Dora the Explorer. Suddenly he came running up to us, face red, mouth wide-open, tears streaming down his face.

I started to look him over, thinking he might have hurt himself somehow. He could barely talk through the tears and I felt his stomach tightening up (as it does moments before he gets upset and pukes everywhere).

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Swiper swiped the key!” he cried, upset that the cartoon fox, Swiper, took a key from Dora.

Upset by a cartoon—a cartoon made for preschoolers.

My wife soothed him, explaining that Dora would get the key back. E went back to the couch and waited to see what would happen. And sure enough, a few minutes later,  Dora did, in fact, get the key back. E wiped tears from his eyes and continued to watch.

On the ride home, my wife explained to me that E doesn’t understand that Dora isn’t real.

I asked him questions, as I tend to do, to try to figure out how he thinks about things. I often wonder how he interprets the world around him. It’s amazing to watch how infants transform from a blank slate to a person who thinks and acts in their own unique way.

However, now as he is out in the world more and seems to understand more (sometimes surprisingly complex things), I tend to overestimate what he grasps.

“Is Swiper your friend?” I asked.

“No,” E said. “He’s not my friend.”

Okay, maybe that simply means he doesn’t like Swiper, though he does like to repeat Swiper’s catch phrase, “Oh man!”

“How about Dora, is she your friend?”

“No, she’s not been to my house,” he said – his way of saying that she’s on the TV. He understands, perhaps in some way, that she’s not real. Or at least there is some distance between them that is not easily crossed.

Too Sensitive?

E is a good-natured boy. He is kind, he shares (as much as any toddler his age does), and he expresses affection often.

But he is also SUPER sensitive.

He was recently upset in the grocery store when he saw a woman playfully smack her little girl on the arm.

He shouted, (just a few feet away from the mom and her child)

“She hit her! SHE’S NAUGHTY!”

In addition to being super sensitive, he seems to be super idealistic and gets upset when someone does something they’re not supposed to do. Which is why he was so mad at Swiper, who had taken something from Dora.

E was very distressed and worried that Dora wouldn’t get her key back. And as silly as it might seem to those of you who aren’t his parent, it’s somewhat heartbreaking to see him go through those emotions. He is too young to feel such things, my gut says.

However, at what age should a child be introduced to the ills of the world, such as a thieving fox? That people aren’t always nice?

Part of me thinks he should not watch the show anymore.

Except that he LOVES Dora.

And the show’s educational segments engage him in ways no other show has. For instance, he talks back to the TV when Dora asks questions. For some odd reason, Dora requires or asks him to say, “backpack” and “map” which, for some odd reason, Dora can’t quite hear him, so she asks him to repeat himself, only a bit louder. Anyone walking by my house at the right moment would surely hear E yelling at the top of his lungs, “BACKPACK!” and “MAP!”

He also watches the show with such an attention to detail and level of response that it is almost as if he is in a classroom – so I know he is learning from it.

However, is he too young to learn about mean and sneaky swipers?

Perhaps it’s better to allow him to learn about negative things now, in a way that he can digest and understand them? Maybe that’s why Swiper is on the show?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter.

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Me and E

Now I know how a lot of moms might feel.

One of my son’s female daycare teachers recently moved out of state. While I might have caused my kindergarten teacher to quit teaching, I don’t think my son caused his teacher to move. At any rate, he now has a male teacher, who he talks about with a huge grin on his face. The guy’s name is is Mr. Dave.

Yes, the guy stole my name!

“I hit Mr. Dave with a ball today,” my son said, smiling.

“You hit him? Was he upset?”

“No,” E said, “he laughed. We were playing.”

Then my son proceeded to laugh as he recalled the moment. And then some more moments. For the first time in my life as a parent, I felt the oddest feeling…

jealousy.

Jealous of a teacher spending time with my son! Given that on some days, I’m wishing I could hand my son over to a teacher for a few hours, just so I can get some work done or some quiet time, I was utterly shocked by this feeling.

I hadn’t given this new feeling much thought in the two weeks since Mr. Dave started teaching my son.

Then tonight, I was running late getting E. By the time I arrived at the school, all the other students had gone home. Before entering my son’s room, I took a peek in the little window which is about head high.

Inside, my son was on the floor sitting down right next to Mr. Dave, playing with Lego’s. And E was having a blast! They looked like a happy father and son playing together. And I felt that twinge again.

Until now, E has only had female teachers. It never once bothered me when he bonded closely with them. After all, you kind of expect it, especially given that most young children’s teachers are women.

Which made me wonder, is this how mothers feel the first time that their child bonds with another woman? Are they jealous of the bond or when their child talks glowingly about the teacher?

The logical center of my brain knows that this is a silly emotion. Insecurity is the root of almost all jealousy and I’m not particularly insecure of my fathering skills – even if I can’t paint a straight line or put up a baby fence without cursing like a sailor.

However, I’m still a bit jealous.

I suppose at the heart of the matter, is that I know this closeness I feel with my son isn’t going to last forever.

Something happens between most men and their sons around puberty, where kids essentially lose their brains to some disease which kills all traces of logic and self control. There’s a drifting apart which is never quite bridged completely. Not among most sons and fathers that I know of, anyway. I dread this moment in raising my child.

The jealousy monster wonders crazy thoughts:

• Does my son have more fun with Mr. Dave than me?
• Is Mr. Dave a better role model (he’s skinny and fit while I’m roughly the size of some household furniture) than I am?

And of course, and man, I feel weak saying this,

• Does he like Mr. Dave more than he likes me?

I know all this is silly, and I’m not typically a jealous person. This time it’s a bit different, though. I feel like I am getting a flash of a future I don’t care to see.

At some point, parents stop being the infallible heroes and stars in their children’s eyes and instead become something else entirely— flawed humans which are all too mortal.

I knew I would experience this. I simply didn’t think I’d experience it this soon.

What do you think? Is this a common experience among the parents out there who read this? Feel free to share your story.

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