At Thursday’s dinner we were going around the table listing the things that made us grateful when Max blurted, “I’m thankful for pets and Uncle Dave.” I’m sure Uncle Dave was thankful for that.
Me? I’m thankful for “leg pits,” which is what Max calls the backs of his knees. Last week he begged Sarah to tickle them.
This morning, Sarah and the kids dug through two bedroom closets and collected half a room’s worth of old toys (and some fairly new ones) to give to other kids, kids who have no toys. Mia gave up her princess stuff, including the tiaras, including the princess castle, including the dresses, including the Barbies. The Barbies! Because other kids have none.
And maybe, just a little, because she knows she needs to clear out room for Hannukah. Doesn’t matter. I’m proud.
And leg pits. That still kills me.
Max and Whitney met me at Mia’s school at ten after two and we all walked down to the multipurpose room, where Mia told them my name, and Max told me to vote for the high-speed trains, and both of them placed their hands on mine and helped me push the inker down to vote for the very first Hawaiian president of the United States. And I have never been more excited to vote, and I have never been more eager to watch the results roll in, and I have never been more optimistic about the leader of the free world, and I have never been prouder to be an American. Yeah, I said it. If you don’t like that, you can stick it.
And Mia got stickers, and Max got stickers, and I gave a sticker to Whitney, who doesn’t vote, and I got a sticker of my own. I voted. America won. And that’s pretty much all you’re going to hear from me on that.
Look what Sarah done.
I’m taking the kids to vote later, after school. Max has already told us he’s voting for Barackobama. Mia tells Sarah she may vote for McCain because a few of her (apparently influential) friends are voting for McCain, but she’s also made some campaign signs for the house, including an American flag with “VOTE FOR: BARACK OBAMA” written where the field of stars might otherwise be. I can’t wait to see how they come down on the high-speed trains prop.
And tonight, we order Chinese and watch results. I think I’ll keep the kids up late.
Sarah was nudging Mia to eat her chicken tonight, explaining that eating chicken (as opposed to, say, something from last night’s sugar haul) would give her muscles. So Mia ate some chicken, and flexed her muscles, elbows at right angles, fists balled up, teeth clenched into an tense grin. We could see the muscles forming right there at the table.
Then Max ate some chicken, and he flexed his muscles, his face screwed up and angry.
Then I got into the act, flexing my own muscles, and the three of us exchanged grimaces, straining to keep our muscles tight.
After a beat, Mia looked at me and said “Now really do them.”
A moment later, Mia told us all about someone’s dad at school who had muscles that went two inches out from his arm. Then she looked over at me and cleared up any potential confusion. “Not you, Daddy.”
