Potty-training chronicles

The Moose, just as he was about to go to the bathroom:

"INCOMING!"

How to play it cool, dad edition

Kids will test your sanity. There will be times when you are so proud of your kids that you want to squeeze them until their ears pop off, and there will be times when you are so upset/disappointed/angry/about-to-lose-your-mind with them that you want to squeeze them until their ears pop off.
So what do you do to keep your cool? Any good dad worth his salt knows to shrug his shoulders, shake his head and walk away, a plan that works with any situation. Hey, life is out of your control. Just let go.

UPDATE: Mrs. Wahoo wanted to know the motivation behind this post, and really there's nothing much to it. Sometimes, like today, the kids are great, and sometimes, like yesterday, the kids aren't so great. Sometimes (I've used sometimes three times already in three sentences) we dwell too much on why are kids are the way they are. In the over-analyzing, we lose sight that they're kids. We try to make things better for them (we're really not apathetic losers letting their kids wander through the great unknown) but most things are beyond our control. They will find their way, for better or worse, with guidance from us (for better or worse). 
I'm rambling. Sorry.

8 a.m. breakdown

Old Wahoo's family celebrated the first morning-before-school breakdown of the new year in vintage style, complete with screaming, yelling and punching. Yep, mornings are great around here. Thankfully, the third-grader added some unintended wit by capping his tantrum with a classic quote: "Don't make me regret this, which I will."

Details are unimportant

The first-grader couldn't wait to tell me he made a new friend at school today.
"What's his name," I asked.
"I don't know," he said. "But he likes 'Star Wars: Clone Wars.'"

The Young Reader

The third-grader enjoying a book at his new desk. He finished his evening by reading for about 90 minutes. He's looking at a science book, of course.

Rules of Engagement, Part 23

In the midst of a brother-vs.-brother meltdown outside of church (because who doesn't want to brawl after listening to a sermon about community and understanding), the first-grader laid down the rules of engagement to his older brother. "I hate to have to do this now," he said, "but now I have to throw my shoe at you."

Words of the Week

I started reading "Tom Sawyer" to the boys. They're not too interested in the story, but Tom definitely reminds me of the soon-to-be third-grader.

"Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in."
- Mark Twain, in the preface to "Tom Sawyer"

First Law of Family Dynamics

Old Wahoo's First Law of Family Dynamics states that with three or more children, one child shall be in meltdown mode at all times in order for there to be equilibrium in the universe. The one exception to that rule is when all three children have meltdowns at the same time, as chaos supersedes all laws.

Words of the Week

I've been reading the Chronicles of Narnia to the boys. (Mrs. Wahoo has been doing the heavy lifting, though). Can you tell?

Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn.
- C.S. Lewis

Keeping cool

The weekend was hot. Rob kept cool.

Words of the Week

Words to live by from one of the greatest presidents.

Whatever you are, be a good one.
- Abraham Lincoln

Imagination on the Loose

The Moose just doused me with imaginary water after a make-believe fire had consumed me in flames. I told him he had a great imagination, and then I asked him where my imagination was. "It ran away," he said.

The Sporting Life

The family just returned from a vacation Up North in Antrim County, Michigan. It was a great time filled with sailing, fishing, kayaking and more of the sporting life.

Words of the Week

Emma Lazarus was born 161 years ago on July 22, 1849. She wrote the poem - words often forgotten today - inscribed on the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Sleepytime

Sleep is like a drug - or at least like Coca-Cola. I need more sleep than ever, and I get less sleep than ever. I never liked to nap, but now I must take a nap, usually taking one every day. Sleep has become a necessary weapon to take on work, kids and life. It's a deterrent - like nuclear missiles in the Cold War - keeping the dark side at bay.

Do Good Parents Matter?

Of course, good parents matter, and of course, I try my best every day, realizing that every day I need to work at being a better dad. But a recent article in The New York Times suggests that good parents may not lead to good children. Here's the final paragraph:

For better or worse, parents have limited power to influence their children. That is why they should not be so fast to take all the blame — or credit — for everything that their children become. 

Certainly, there are large parts of this that make sense. I cringe every time I see or hear a person lose patience at someone else's parenting skills (or lack thereof). It's not easy, and each child presents unique challenges, some much tougher than others.
Can parents influence their children's behavior? Yes and no. That's a sobering thought.

Days Like This

Mama told me they'd be days like this.

Celebrity Parents

Generally, Old Wahoo has no problem with celebrities. If people want to look at pictures of celebrities or read stories about celebrities or hear raging phone calls from celebrities, no problem. Sometimes I check out those stories, too. It's a great way to kill time while it takes 45 minutes to buy a bottle of Tylenol at CVS.
But I don't check out stories about celebrity parents. Thanks, but I don't  care what Shiloh (who names their kid after a bloody Civil War battle, anyway?) wears or what TomCat are (is?) making little Suri do between Scientology meetings or how Tom and Gisele divvy up parenting duties. (Though I think Gisele is up against Marisa Miller in the bikini bracket in the previous link).
Besides, I need to get back to reading about the latest Bachelor scandal. And, yes, I know I never will get back the five minutes I used in writing this post.

Words of the Week

Bo knows priorities. It's scary that he sounds like a voice of reason.

"My No. 1 goal is to keep my train on the track, and not worry about anybody else's. That's the way I've always lived my life. (But) if you're stupid enough to go out and do some stupid (stuff), then be a man and suffer the consequences. I have no sympathy for you."
- Bo Jackson, in an article in USA Today

The Big Money Question

Lately, the older boys have asked more and more about money. Important questions, too, such as "When will you give me more money?" or "When can I get more money to buy toys?" or "Will you buy me this?" They're not particularly bad about it, but they do act like acquiring more money and more things is a birthright. There are plenty of tips on this topic, such as in this reasonable article by Ron Lieber in The New York Times. While honesty, straightforwardness and logic are laudable goals, I would prefer advice on how to avoid talking about difficult topics with your kids and still make them better. Where's the story on brainwashing? Or just perfect passive parenting? Or how 'bout this one: "Watching Sports on TV with Your Kids Will Make Them Smarter, Healthier, Happier and Easier to Manipulate"? I think there's grant money available for that one. I know just how to ask for it, too.

The Real Farmville

On the family's trip to Iowa for my grandmother's 90th birthday celebration, Old Wahoo and family visited Uncle Gary's farm just outside Muscatine, Iowa. The trip was great for the usual reasons: boys get to ride John Deere tractor, boys get to ride the Gator and boys get to ride the tractor some more. (And by boys, I mean the grown-up boys, too.) Mostly, though, the visit to the farm brought back memories of old family trips to Iowa, when I went with my grandfather for trips to the relatives' farms, for excursions to Wildcat Den (a state park east of Muscatine) and checking out the zoo at Weed Park. Though much has changed - my grandfather, sadly, died nearly 25 years ago - it meant a lot to share those experiences, however different, with my children and my family. It was a chance to reconnect with family, and that's what matters more than anything.

Words of the Week

The Moose learns "playing" (also known as harassing) with his pet can prove dangerous.

A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way.

- Mark Twain 

Hetzlers Go to Hollywood

View Real Steel - Grosse Pointe Farms in a larger map
After watching "Toy Story 3" this morning - which came complete with popcorn, a crying wife and a scared 5-year-old - Old Wahoo and the eldest son happened upon the filming of "Real Steel," a movie starring Hugh Jackman, in Grosse Pointe Farms.
Since I was driving, I immediately pulled out my cellphone and gave it to my son. I told him to start shooting pictures so we could post them on the Internet. He said no.
"Isn't that stealing someone's property," the 7-year-old said. "I don't think that's a good idea."
Score one for old media.

The Truth Is Out There

While the kids are closer to Moe, Larry and Curly than Scully and Mulder, they have demonstrated they know the way works.
Case in point: On Monday, I tried to explain something to Rob, and he turned, looked at me and said, "It's OK, Dad. We know Mom makes all the decisions."
Upon more investigation, Old Wahoo learned that Mrs. Wahoo has the power because "she buys stuff."
There was nothing left for me to say.

Meltdowns

Father's Day was hot, and when the heat is on, some of us melt.
Old Wahoo sure did when his family took him to Comerica Park for Father's Day. In one of the low moments of fatherhood, Old Wahoo erupted at the Multicultural Three Stooges in a surface parking lot in Detroit after a South Asian man told me I didn't know how to drive. Eventually, I regained my composure, but I acted like a jerk. Sorry.
Fortunately, 2-year-olds can match meltdowns. (Unfortunately, I have 34 years on him.) The Moose was upset we left the ballgame, and cried "Tigers! Tigers!" until he fell asleep. Aside from the screaming - and who could blame him after his father's performance - it's kind of cool that he's such a passionate fan.

Words of the Week

Grumpy is good for you. I knew there was a reason I like Eeyore.

"Whereas positive mood seems to promote creativity, flexibility, co-operation and reliance on mental shortcuts, negative moods trigger more attentive, careful thinking, paying greater attention to the external world."
- Joe Forgas, Australian psychology expert

Obama's fatherhood initiative

Here's something more dads can get behind: President Obama extended his observance of Father's Day to Monday.
While Obama has a serious, noble mission in mind - getting more dads to step up and be involved in their children's lives (something that seems like a no-brainer but something he will get hammered for because he mentioned "two fathers" in raising a child) - there are tons of benefits to this plan. More barbecue, baseball and beer. If that's all we get with an extra day of Father's Day, then I'm all for it.

Words of the Week

I'm obsessed with the World Cup now, and I also am obsessed by how people respond to their mistakes. Hey, we all make 'em.

“At a younger point in my life, it would have affected me more. You turn around and pick the ball up out of the back of the net and say, ‘right, that’s happened, let’s move on.’ You don’t really kick yourself for the next 50 years.”
- England goalkeeper Robert Green, who allowed a soft goal in a 1-1 tie against the United States

Words of the Week

I'm finding this to be true. It least I'm finding out that I have the capacity for infinite stupidity.

"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe."

— Albert Einstein (from goodreads.com)

The Lessons of Imperfection

Old Wahoo and Mrs. Wahoo watched the Tigers' game last night, and we cheered when Austin Jackson made that spectacular catch in center field in the ninth inning to preserve a perfect effort by Armando Galarraga. We thought we were watching history, baseball's 21st perfect game.
Only, of course, we watched something more horrible yet in the end more compelling and more amazing. We saw umpire Jim Joyce miss a call on what would - and should - have been the 27th and final out of the game. We were stunned, outraged even. I called my Mom and Dad, and then called my brother, to talk about the injustice of it all.
The thing is, nobody's perfect. Galarraga realized this the moment Joyce made the call, where the pitcher, instead of yelling and screaming like his teammates, smiled. He was stunned, incredulous, probably, but with that smile he seemed to be saying that it's OK.
His reaction was perfect. I talked to my sons this morning about it. (Joe Posnanski, the best columnist in America, wrote about The Lessons of Jim Joyce today, and how he was going to talk about it with his daughters.) I'm not sure if they understood what  a perfect game is, but they understand disappointment. Everybody does. But not everyone knows how to react to it. I don't always react well to it, but on this night, Galarraga, who had more reason than anybody to be upset, knew just what to do.
He got over it.

Lawn Mower Etiquette

As Old Wahoo gets older, he realizes that stupid, little things irk him more and more. (So much for becoming more patient as I grow older.) For instance, the lack of lawn mower etiquette - a small bunch of unwritten rules for cutting the grass - is tiresome. Really, there's not much to lawn mower etiquette, just two simple rules: 1. No lawn mowing on Sundays before noon. 2. On all other days, no lawn mowing before 9 a.m.
Look, I understand that many people are pressed for time,  I understand that many people need to use landscaping services, and I understand that landscapers often need to work on several lawns a day. But there's still no good reason to cut grass so early in the morning.
There, I've gotten that off my chest. I hope my kids were listening because if there's one thing I hope they learn in life, it's lawn mower etiquette.

Words of the Week

Remembering heroic actions, whatever the government may say.

"I asked the general, 'How can you say that there were doubts and yet you give us a Navy Cross citation that says that Sergeant Peralta did the exact same thing the Marines say he did?'" I told him, 'Every single Medal of Honor from now on is going to be tainted because of what's been done to Peralta.' The Marines are never going to give up. We're never going to give up fighting for Peralta's medal."

- George Sabga, "What Happened to Valor?", New York Times Magazine

Trip to the Zoo

With the two older boys vacationing Up North with their grandparents, Old Wahoo and Mrs. Wahoo decided things were too calm at home so we took the Moose to the zoo. Remarkably, the zoo, despite hordes of school buses and filled with animals, was less wild than our home.
By the way, we think the Detroit Zoo is fantastic. The polar bear exhibit is first-rate, and we like the Outback Station where visitors can walk with the kangaroos.

Playground Periscope

Whenever the Moose hits the playground, my blood pressure ticks up a couple of notches. Like his brothers before him (especially the eldest), the Moose loves to push the limits by climbing the highest slide or jumping headlong onto the merry-go-round. I watch like a hawk, though I try to let him have his space and let him discover what he can do (within reason), but often I find the playground more stress-inducing than stress-relieving.

I'm not the only one who feels this way. Over at Dadcentric, a recent post tackles the perils of playground watching. It is indeed a state of constant vigilance.

 My right eye is trained on my youngest, who is standing atop a 10’ slide approximately 47 degrees to my right, while my left eye is watching my eldest bounce up and down on a suspension bridge. My brain is receiving and processing simultaneous feeds from each eye regarding each boy’s current status. Any report of injury, a pained expression, or unacceptable behavior will trigger action in the rest of the body. It is a spectacular feat of dual awareness, a demonstration of two hemispheres functioning independently in order to accomplish a common goal, a state which I am able to accomplish through a combination of intense ocular control, deep breathing, and Norris-like focus. And I can maintain it for all of .37 seconds. 

Sizing Things Up

The Moose is learning to use the potty (I'll be glad when that word disappears from my lexicon), and Mrs. Wahoo tries to keep him entertained/distracted with games so he will do his business. 

There's the Letter Game, where Mrs. Wahoo, for example, asks the Moose what starts with the letter "M." ("MOMMY! MATTY!") 

There's also Big or Small, which seems harmless enough. Mrs. Wahoo will ask if a toe is big or small, and the Moose will say, "SMALL!" Again, pretty tame stuff.

Usually. The two played that game the other night during potty time, and the Moose is on a roll. "SMALL. BIG. SMALL." Suddenly, he blurts out "penis." Then after two seconds, he answers. "BIG! YEA!"

He's our potty mouth.

The Chase Is On

The Moose was on the loose in Target today. Fortunately, he wasn't too hard to corral. Still, I think this was a first. I have had a son scream "Put me down old man!" (still the winner in my book), but I've never had a slow-speed chase before. I just wish I could have had a siren on the shopping cart because the Moose would've loved that.

Amazing but true (3 kids edition): Finally had my first slow speed chase through Target this morning in effort to capture the 2-year-old.less than a minute ago via webJohn Hetzler
hetzhoo

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Words of the Week

Stay true forever.

Don’t worry about losing your accent, a Southern Man tells better jokes.

- Drive-By Truckers, "Outfit"

Brothers Running in Different Directions

The two oldest boys participated in the elementary school's running club (free activity! of course we're taking part), and they showed once again how two brothers can be so similar and yet so different. 

They both loved the running (a couple of laps, a sprint, some light stretching), just like they both like Legos and Star Wars. But when the session was almost over, the coaches asked the kids to write down their goals, and that's when their differences were highlighted.

The second-grader wrote a detailed explanation, saying that he's a soccer player so, of course, he's good at running, and why, he thinks he can run 5 miles by the end of the day (not the summer, the day). Then, there's his slightly less confident younger brother, who simply wrote his name and said his goal was to run one lap (which he already done twice earlier in the day).

Saving Your Children's Brains

Old Wahoo rejects censorship, though that belief was tested when his kids listened to a Miley Cyrus song last night. I want my kids to grow up to be smart, creative, open-minded people, and I believe in exposing them to different culture, music, art, etc. Heck, I don't mind them watching bad TV (partly because I'm lazy, and partly because I'm rediscovering Public Enemy right now), but Miss Miley is pushing it a bit far. 

I'm sure she is a fine person, but I her music begs for silence, either by turning it off or my obeying your mother. I will do both. I will turn it off, and urge my kids to listen to anything different. Menudo. Madonna. Matchbox 20. (OK, maybe not them.) 

And since my mother told me that if I can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all, I'll try to hold my tongue about "Party in the USA." Hey, I guess it's better than her dad's songs. That's not too bad, is it? 

(Warning: Some of these links will turn your brains to mush, just like the faces of those bad guys in "Raiders of the Lost Ark.")

Words of the Week

Remembering a baseball legend, Ernie Harwell.

“Baseball is Tradition in flannel knickerbockers. And Chagrin in being picked off base. It is Dignity in the blue serge of an umpire running the game by rule of thumb. It is Humor, holding its sides when an errant puppy eludes two groundskeepers and the fastest outfielder. And Pathos, dragging itself off the field after being knocked from the box.”- Ernie Harwell, "The Game for All America"

Star Wars Legos

Old Wahoo's kids love two things most of all: Star Wars and Legos. So this video, which combines their two favorite things in a most hilarious way, will be a big hit with them. The Moose already loves it.

My Son, the General Manager

Old Wahoo told the kindergartner about the Tigers' victory over the Angels on Sunday, and I told him about how well Justin Verlander pitched. He was excited, of course, but as usual he was also worried: "I hope they don't trade him."

I agreed with him. Then the kindergartner offered this gem: "They should trade all the bad players and get all the good players." That logic is sound. Maybe he can be the general manager of the Tigers someday.

The kindergartner remembers the Curtis Granderson trade, which was not popular with many Tigers fans, both young and old. (Someone should have taken a poll of what elementary-school kids thought about the trade. I expect it would have received a big thumbs-down.) But even though it is early, Austin Jackson - a key piece of the trade - is excelling for the Tigers, while Granderson is struggling and on the disabled list for the Yankees.

Words of the Week

Above all others, the one rule I want my kids to know. 

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I loved you, that you also love one another."

- John 13:34

Rhetorical Question of the Day

Is the third son the most destructive of the kids, or is Old Wahoo just becoming more negligent? There's crayon all over a window to prove the answer.

Words of the Week

Don't worry, be happy.

"The truth is, there's no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when?"

- Richard Carlson, "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff"

Fatherhood and the Scooter Blues

Razor scooters are cool. All the kids have them nowadays because they look good and they go fast. What more could a kid want?

While Razors are cool, Old Wahoo is not. The two oldest Wahoo kids have Razors, and I love that they want to ride them to school. It's great exercise, and it's easy to get them excited to use them. 

There's a problem, though. Razors are supposed to fold easily. All you need to do is flick a switch, and presto! the Razor folds into an easily transportable vehicle. Only it's not that easy for me, especially with the 5-year-old's scooter. Lately, I've tried and tried in vain to fold up the Razor as he heads into kindergarten. Finally, I give up and just throw the scooter in the back of the stroller and head back home. It's no big deal, really, except my feelings of fatherly ineptitude have increased greatly, and I have much more important things in which to feel inept. 

Fatherhood's not supposed to be easy. The kids are supposed to see you fail because they need to know that nobody's perfect.

Except I want to be. And sometimes, though, I know this is unrealistic and impossible, I want them to be perfect, too.

Words of the Week

I hope we have wise children.

"A wise child loves discipline, but a scoffer does not listen to rebuke."

- Proverbs 13:1

My Inner Clark Griswold

Some people fear becoming their parents. Not me. I fear becoming Clark Griswold, the hapless father portrayed by Chevy Chase in the "Vacation" movies.

Unfortunately, Old Wahoo experienced a Griswold moment on the way back from our family's spring break trip. During a restroom and lunch break at a McDonald's, my youngest son, in desperate need of a nap, kicked off his shoes while throwing a mini-tantrum. While Mrs. Wahoo struggled with the Moose, I picked up the shoes while I also took care of three bags of Happy Meals and fries.

We pack the kids away without further incident, and after eating lunch, two of the three boys fall asleep. Mission accomplished, right? Well, when we came to our next rest stop three hours later, we could not find the shoes, and when we arrived home later that evening, the shoes still could not be found.

Finally, the next day as I unloaded groceries from the back of the van, I found one shoe wedged in the luggage rack atop the car. Alas, the other shoe still was missing.

Since leaving the shoes on top of the car was definitely a Griswold moment, I have tried to shake it off and look for the bright side, just like Clark W. did in the movies.

Sure, I lost my son's favorite (and best) pair of shoes, but imagine how amazing it is that one shoe made the 428-mile trek from Berkeley Springs, W.Va., to Detroit.

And yes, I did leave the shoes on top of the car, but it could have been worse. I could have left my coffee there, or the portable DVD player, and either one of those calamities could have made the trip unbearable. A friend also said it would have been worse to leave a kid on top of the van.

Or, as Clark Griswold did, I could have left the dog tied to the bumper.

Words of the Week

Wisdom from a wise, wise man.

Why aren't we flying? Because getting there is half the fun. You know that. 

- Clark Griswold, "Vacation"

Vacation Time

A trip to the beach.

A George Lucas Miracle

Some people see the Virgin Mary in a tree stump. Some people see Richard Nixon's face in a sweet potato. And this morning my kindergartner saw the Jawas' vehicle in a piece of Mrs. Wahoo's toast.

George Lucas would be proud. I guess I am too.

Words of the Week

A reminder to myself of what really matters.

"His favorite game for a long, long time will be playing with you. Be available. Even when you're tired. Even when the presentation went south. Be available."

- Harry H. Harrison Jr., "Father to Son: Life Lessons on Raising a Boy"

Silent But Dangerous

Whoever thinks silence is golden never had a 2-year-old who quietly emptied a tube of toothpaste into a plastic cup.

Words of the Week

The darling mispronunciations of childhood! -- dear me, there's no music that can touch it; and how one grieves when it wastes away and dissolves into correctness, knowing it will never visit his bereaved ear again.

- Mark Twain, "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court"

Happy Birthday Mrs. Wahoo

Thanks to my partner in this adventure/torture of parenting. You are the best.

The Rocket Shirt

Sometimes little things show how quickly the kids are growing. Today, the Moose wore the rocket shirt, which used to be his oldest brother's favorite shirt. Rob thought it was cool because it had rockets, of course, and he wanted to wear it all the time. I still think the rocket shirt belongs to him, even though he had long since passed it down to Alex. Now, the rocket shirt belongs to Matt, and it reminded me of how much both the Moose and the second-grader have grown.

Mrs. Wahoo, though, took a more practical and less sentimental perspective. "I can't believe it's made it through three kids," she said.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss

March 2 is Dr. Seuss' birthday, and like this guy, I wanted to know everyone's favorite Dr. Seuss book. Mine is "Green Eggs and Ham," especially the part when Sam-I-Am goes underwater and the whole family reads it as if we're blowing bubbles. ("I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.")

Not everyone thinks Dr. Seuss is infallible, though. One writer pointed out his books never include girls. Does that bother anyone else?

And here's an irreverent rap celebration of the good Doctor. (NOTE: Language, NSFW.) Hat tip to Film School Rejects.

Words of the Week

A reminder of why we watch the Olympics, of what the Games are supposed to mean.

It happened again Sunday. There the athletes were, smaller and more real suddenly, snapping pictures like tourists, waving to cameras -- "Hi, Mom!" -- milling aimlessly, mashed together in the most accomplished mosh pit in history. Canadians, Americans, Russians, Finns: all the stiffness, posing, pre-competition jitters was gone, dissolved in a moment of pure fun. There's nothing else like it in sports.

- S.L. Price on SI.com

Dad Disease

Has this ever happened to you?

You are in the grocery store, looking for baking powder, yet all you see is baking soda. You look up and down each aisle twice before your 5-year-old son finally finds it for you.

Has this ever happened to you?

You are making a sandwich for lunch. You find the ham and the cheese, but you can't find the smoked turkey. You tear through the refrigerator, ripping through packages of shredded cheese, Parmesan and pepperoni, all in a futile search. Finally, you give up, curse your fate and blame an in-law to be named later. Then you realize the smoked turkey was in your hands the whole time, right under the bag of ham. You try to play it off, but your wife rolls her eyes, shakes her head and, if lucky, offers an insightful comment, such as "You're as bad as the kids" or "Really! Did you even look first?"

I admit it: These stories, or something close to them, have happened to me. I suffer from Dad Disease, an affliction that more than 85.2 million fathers in North America deal with every day. Dad Disease causes forgetfulness, numbness and numerous, though fortunately odorless, brain farts.

Yes, you remembered to take out the garbage. Yes, you successfully dropped the kids off at school. Yes, you remembered to feed the cat. But have you ever tried to find the Cayenne pepper? I don't know  about you, but there are a lot of spices in our kitchen cabinet.

Dad Disease does not discriminate, and it's roots are genetic, environmental and downright innate. Dad Disease does not improve with time, and eventually leads to forgetting important dates, such as your anniversary and wife's birthday. 

There is a simple cure, though. It takes just a minute of your time, and you don't even have to leave the comfort of your own home.

Unfortunately, I've forgotten it.

Sharing a Childhood Passion

Old Wahoo rediscovered his baseball card collection last week as I tried to help the kids with a school project, and I reveled in my sports geek-dom. I found all kinds of cool stuff, from 7-11 Slurpee Discs (like this) to my favorite, a John Riggins football card (the one pictured at left).

It was hard to stay focused, but I had a job to do. The kindergartner had to complete a 100th day of school poster that included 100 items of any type. Not wanting to cut out 100 pictures of cats or some other animal, I suggested using 100 baseball cards. I knew gluing the cards on poster board would ruin the value of the cards, but considering most are worth only a couple of cents (if that), I figured it would be a good way to share something I enjoyed when I was a kid.

The kindergartner was lukewarm to the idea, but the second-grader thought it was great. He and I crawled into the back of the attic, and knelt in the corner with a flashlight, flipping through card after card (I even think I hurt my knee a little bit). We found all types of cards, including many that I forgot I had, such as Olympic champions, baseball legends and old basketball stars. We also discovered a bunch of Star Wars cards from the early 1980s, and fortunately that struck a chord with the kindergartner, who agreed to use those for his poster.

I was glad to help him with his project, but I was more excited that the second-grader enjoyed looking at the cards with me. After all, I saved the cards with the idea that I could share them with my children, and it was nice to share a passion with your children without forcing it on them.

Words of the Week

We watched a feature on the 30th anniversary of the Miracle on Ice with the kids yesterday. I still get chills whenever I hear this call.

"Do you believe in miracles? Yes!"

- Al Michaels, calling the end of Team USA's victory over the USSR in 1980

Happy Blogday

Old Wahoo celebrates the first anniversary of the blog this week, and I would like to thank everyone for reading and participating in what has become an enjoyable outlet for me.

In my first posting a year ago, I tried to outline what I hoped to accomplish with the blog.

With the good times and the bad times in mind, I'm looking to remember the fun, find ways to solve problems and learn from the experiences of others. 

I'm not sure I've always stayed focused - in fact, I know I've wandered off topic a number of times - but the blog has given me a creative outlet that I look forward to every day. I've enjoyed hearing from others, and I thank everyone for their comments, time and help.

The Moose Sings

The Moose made Mrs. Wahoo proud by singing - unprompted - the chorus to "Walk Through the Fire" from the Buffy musical. Of course, Buffy is the all-time favorite show in the Old Wahoo household (or at least the part the Nielsen ratings measure), and Mrs. Wahoo laughed like a happy woman. (I'm not sure Grandma Wahoo will be as appreciative).

Words of the Week

Abraham Lincoln raised four sons and somehow managed to keep his sense of humor.*

"I have three walnuts and each wants two."

- Abraham Lincoln (from Carl Sandburg's biography)

*Unfortunately, Lincoln's personal life also was filled with tragedy. Only one of his sons reached adulthood.