As he surveyed the scene he asked, “Where’s Jesus?” I thought it an odd question since he had placed the baby Jesus in the stable himself. I reminded him of that, to which he responded, “Where’s the real Jesus? Where’s the Jesus of God?”

That kid has a knack for asking penetrating questions. A month or so back we were watching daily mass when he abruptly asked, “What is God?” After a nervous explanation, he followed up with, “Is God a person?” Nothing like jumping right into the deep end of the theological pool!

Whew. I sure hope the Holy Spirit guides me to give him and his siblings the kinds of answers they need.

Christmas break has been bad for me, though. I’m not surprised, but that doesn’t make me any less disappointed. I got as high as 168.8, but thankfully I’m down to 165.4 today.

My goal for 2013 is to get down to 150 lbs. What are your goals for this year?

Maybe it was a nightmare. Maybe she was cold. It’s impossible to know, really. Her mommy had tried to comfort her, but nothing she said or did helped. The screaming just got louder and more insistent, until she finally screamed a single word in repetition.

“Daddy!”

I calmly walked up the stairs, confident that I could soothe her. As I opened the door to her room, I saw her standing in her crib. She was distraught, but her screaming had subsided to steady sob at the sight of me. I stepped in and picked her up. She wrapped her arms around me and immediately calmed down.

And that’s when it hit me. He’d better be a hell of a guy.

What guy? That guy. The one she marries. The one who takes over my job.

You see, for the next couple decades, it’s my job to protect her. It’s my job to keep her safe, both in her perception and in reality.

I didn’t set out to make her “daddy’s little girl”. It just happened. I don’t know if she was programmed to wrap me around her little fingers, or if it’s her will. I just know she is, and that she’s special to me.

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t love my boys less. The feeling is just…different. We both know it.

And so, as I gently laid her back down in her crib and covered her with her blanket, it occurred to me that this fellow damn well better be special. He who wants the job of protecting my precious little girl better be a hell of a guy.

He has to be the best. Nothing less will do.

Alex Reading Shel Silverstein at Age 4 from Eric Williams on Vimeo.

Daddy in 1979 or 1980, at age 2 or 3

Alex in 2012, age 4

I just hope puberty is kinder to him than it was to me.

Image from the Muppet Wiki

The 1977 Little Golden Book “Cookie Monster and the Cookie Tree” (which I think was also a segment in a Sesame Street episode) is ostensibly a fable about sharing, but I have a different perspective. Yeah, I know it’s pretty dorky to write a serious critique of a children’s book. Humor me, though.

There’s a reason we read fables and other morality tales to our children. In addition to teaching them to read and entertaining them, we’re hoping they assimilate some of the lessons. Other times, we keep some stories away from our children, because we don’t want them to assimilate those lessons. That’s why we care so much what they watch on TV, and how much, right? So, it is in the spirit of preferring some lessons over others that I bother to present my perspective on this silly book. (Besides, it’s a fun way to talk about economics, the dismal science.)

For those who haven’t read it in a long time (or ever), here’s a synopsis. A witch has a magic talking cookie tree, whose cookies she doesn’t want to share with anyone, especially the voracious and insatiable Cookie Monster. To keep all the cookies to herself, she casts a spell on the tree to prevent it from giving cookies to anyone who doesn’t share. Desperate for cookies, Cookie Monster tries to find a friend on Sesame Street who”ll share cookies with him. Unfortunately, nobody believes he’ll really share. Going back to the cookie tree, he meets the witch, who can’t get any cookie, either. They realize that if they share, they can both get cookies. At first, it works to mutual benefit, but it doesn’t take long for Cookie Monster to devour all the cookies, leaving none for the witch.

Since not sharing is presented as the cause for the dilemma, and sharing seemingly resolved it, it’s understandable if this book is used to teach children to share. I don’t think it’s particularly appropriate as a sharing lesson, though. Rather, I believe it’s a cautionary tale about the need for proper respect for, and effective enforcement of, property rights.

Before anything else, I’ll state the obvious. If I don’t, I’m sure someone would accuse me of cold-hearted individualism. The witch is selfish, and that is not a trait to be emulated by children. Criticizing this story is by no means intended to deny or obscure that. That said, let’s move on.

The witch owns a tree, and it’s her right to dispense with as she pleases. Cookie Monster is a threat to her private property, so she tries to protect it, albeit in a foolish way. Cookie Monster would have assumed the cookies were his for the taking – without even asking anyone whose tree it was.

When forced to share with someone in order to partake of the cookies, Cookie can’t find anyone willing to trust him, because he has a bad reputation for tricking people (according to Bert), taking everyone else’s cookies (according to Ernie), and never sharing his cookies with anyone (according to Big Bird, Count von Count, Bert, Prairie Dawn, and Grover). The witch foolishly “contracts” with the magic tree for security, such that she must share with someone just to make use of her own property. Cookie and the witch solve each other’s problem by contracting with each other to share cookies. That is, Cookie Monster helps the witch by sharing with her and is paid for hi service in cookies. At first the transaction goes well, but not for long. Cookie violates the terms of the contract by eating all the cookies on the tree, thereby depleting a resource that he doesn’t own and cannot renew.

So, what lessons should we take from this morality tale?

• Cookie Monster (and everyone else) should respect private property and contracts. In this case, he shouldn’t steal cookies, and he shouldn’t take more than he’s contractually agreed to share.
• The witch (and everyone else) should protect her property more carefully and not bind herself in contracts with unreasonable restrictions (such as she made with the tree).
• The witch could have sold the cookies to Cookie Monster. If she really didn’t want to share, she could have set the price exorbitantly high, presumably above Cookie’s subjective appraisal of the value of a cookie in currency (or whatever he might have to barter). If Cookie’s willing to pay the price, however high, the witch could consider buying more cookies from another producer or supplier than she expects the tree to produce. Of course, she’s within her rights to not sell or give away a single cookie.
• As a lesson in generosity, I’ll repeat that the witch could have shared freely of some or all of her cookies, and that would have been very kind and selfless. However, she’d be foolish to let Cookie police his own consumption if she wanted to keep any for herself (or anyone else she might like to share with).
• Responsible enforcement of and proper respect for property rights are necessary even if the intention is to charitably share goods at no charge.
• Failure to protect property is poor stewardship and leads to unregulated use and distribution (like the witch experienced). Failure to respect property is theft, and leads to damaged reputations and diminished capacity to participate in markets (like Cookie Monster experienced).

• Camcorder with charged battery? Check.
• Camera with charged battery? Check.
• Flexible mini tripod? Check.
• LED spotlight? Check.

We got there on time. I got a seat up front without any hassle. I setup the camcorder and spotlight on the tripod, which I wrapped around my left knee so I could operate the camcorder with my left hand. I had the camera ready to be operated by my right hand.

I was ready to watch my first child’s first preschool performance and record it for posterity.

But it didn’t happen as I imagined.

Things started going badly before the performance began. A lot of the kids were antsy, but none as antsy as Alex. He was everywhere but where he was supposed to be, touching everything he wasn’t supposed to touch. His teacher had a hard time keeping him under control during the opening performance he wasn’t part of. He was the only one she had to give special attention to like that.

When it came time for the first of two dance numbers, Alex wouldn’t stand still, let alone where he was supposed be. I’d have to watch the video to be sure, but I think he was removed from the performance at least once before he was remotely “in formation”. Once there, he played along – barely. He either didn’t pay much attention when the rest of the class was practicing for three months, or he was deliberately not performing well. He made it through the song, though.

The second song was much worse. He was supposed to put on a mask and wait in a certain spot in order to be part of a choreographed routine (well, as much as you can really expect to choreograph 3-5 year-olds). Intead, he was running around in circles with a couple of his classmates. The others eventually calmed down, donned their masks, and readied themselves for the performance. Not Alex. Instead, he was flopping around, looking at himself in a mirror, nearly knocking over a backdrop, and generally making a hyper nuissance of himself. He was eventually choraled “backstage” and put his mask on. That didn’t last long, though. The details are fuzzy, but I seem to recall him sufficiently disruptive to the start of the routine that he got the Vaudeville hook treatment. I don’t think he ever came back out to join the show.

So there I was, still recording, a little shell-shocked and getting depressed. I vaguely recall getting video of him wandering behind and around the performers. Hardly what I’d prepared for. What was supposed to be a happy first was anything but. As all the other parents were proudly snapping pictures, clapping, uttering “oohs”, “ahhhs”, and “awwws”, I was feeling glum, disappointed, hurt, and embarrassed. If Alex was feeling anything but defiant and triumphant, he didn’t show it.

Did I do something wrong? Was alex punishing us for something we did or said? Was he rebelling against his teachers? Is he anti-social? Does he have ADHD? Is he just a jerk?

Alex’s behavior after the performances was embarrassing, too, but this feels like a good breaking point. I’m still processing the experiences and might write a follow-up post later that picks up here.

Any advice regarding what went wrong and how to avoid a repeat in the future would be greatly appreciated.

*sigh* Man, I’m still bummed…

Addendum: Comments on Facebook made me realize that I’d left out context that might be relevant. Saturday through Monday Alex exhibited the kind of obnoxiously defiant behavior I would have expected from a rebellious teenager. The apparent contempt and disrespect were shocking. We don’t know what’s causing it, let alone how to stop. Heck, we didn’t even know preschoolers (however precocious) we capable of that kind of sophisticated behavior! Anyhow, the point of bringing it up at all is that Alex’s embarrassing non-performance was a continuation of previous behaviors (with a brief respite on Tuesday), and not an isolated incident.

“Brothers and sisters: Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were sealed for the day of redemption. All bitterness, fury, anger, shouting, and reviling must be removed from you, along with all malice. And be kind to one another, compassionate, forgiving one another as God has forgiven you in Christ. So be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and handed himself over for us as a sacrificial offering to God for a fragrant aroma.” – Ephesians 4:30 – 5:2

Um…yeah. Guilty as charged. There’s a lot more bitterness, fury, anger, shouting, and reviling in my house than I’d like, and not nearly enough kindness, compassion, and forgiveness. Aside from that, though, the reading was very timely because of my verbal altercation with a stranger yesterday in front of Alex.

*Sigh* I am a very long way from being a saint. May God grant me a long life. Otherwise, I’m screwed.

“Meh.”

No, I didn’t prompt him in any way.

It happened near the end of a long run through Schenley Park, for which I had taken Alex in a jogging stroller. I’ve been running between Schenley Park and my home in Greenfield for seven years. I’d like to think I know how to do so safely. Apparently someone disagrees.

At the end of the Greenfield Bridge, I crossed Alger St to reach the island and wait for a walk signal so I could proceed up Greenfield Ave. (Unfortunately, the satellite image and Google Street View images are out of date and do not show the newer, safer crosswalk across Alger, so you’ll just have to imagine a clearly marked crosswalk that lines up with the east side of the triangular island.) When I reached the island, I heard someone behind me yelling. I turned around and saw a man leaning out the driver’s window of a large black pickup with over-sized tires, stopped at the intersection of Alger St and Exposition Way.

At first I thought he was yelling at another driver, but it soon became clear that he was yelling at me. I couldn’t make out everything he was saying, but I could hear him berating me for not taking notice of him when I crossed. Apparently he thought he’d almost hit us. He’s right that I didn’t notice him. As I approached the crosswalk, I didn’t see anyone driving toward the intersection of Beechwood Blvd and Ronald St, let alone waiting to make a right turn onto Alger St. I crossed because the path seemed to be safe and clear. I believe he drove up quickly from the bridge and didn’t pause much before turning on to Alger St (and there’s no stop sign). I contend that I couldn’t have known he was coming, and he was the one who failed to be adequately aware of his surroundings.

That’s basically what I conveyed to him. The problem is that I chose a poor method of doing so and set a bad example for my son. I should have ignored the buffoon instead of yelling at him. Accusing me of something for which I believed I was innocent hit a nerve and put me in a belligerent mood. He was too far away to hear the details of what he was saying, but it’s safe to assume he wasn’t politely suggesting that I be more observant in the future. I yelled back at him saying, “It’s called a crosswalk, asshole!”, the implication of which being that he’d failed to wait for me to cross, as the law and common sense dictate. He yelled something unintelligible back, followed by finger pointing and vehement assertion that I needed to watch where I was going. Again, I yelled back saying, “Pedestrians have the right of way. YOU should be watching where I’M going, jagoff!”

With that, I ended the exchange by turning around. I assume the jerk in the truck drove proceeded through his intersection. I awaited the walk signal at my intersection and started to process what I’d just experienced. The guilt hit me pretty quickly as I contemplated Alex repeating my words at some time in the near future. Imitating my loud and angry argument with a stranger would be undesirable well. I really didn’t want either to happen, so I told him that I would explain what he’d just witnessed once we crossed. As we proceeded up Greenfield Ave, I gave a simplified explanation of how I perceived what happened, why I was so angry, and why I was wrong for reacting the way I did. I explained that kids aren’t the only ones who make mistakes, and sometimes adults use mean words when they’re angry.

I don’t know how much Alex understood. I don’t know what right or wrong lesson he learned from me today. I just hope his preschool teacher doesn’t inform me he called someone an asshole or a jagoff this week.