Christmas Eve mystery? I should think not

Precisely three minutes and 12 seconds after finally tucking the over-tired boys into bed, Philo got up and innocently announced from the top of the stairs, “Mommy, my loose tooth fell out!” And yet this, I suspect, was his diabolical plan all along: to wait until Christmas Eve, and there in the stillness of the top bunk, to endure the pain of ripping the incisor out prematurely only to nestle it (root and all) beneath his pillow, thereby effectively double working both Lady Tooth Fairy and St. Nicholas. I assure you this child is clever – clever, I say – but make no mistake about this: I. know. his. game.

Parties Agree to Unconditional Peace Treaty

PINNEO HOME, Va. (Nov. 13, 2011) – After months of amassing a razor-sharp army and a crushing armada, and in spite of recent weeks of boiling tensions between the Bounty Hunter/White Knight Coalition and the Maniacal Horde Forces of Terror, we are pleased to announce that tonight after dinner, diplomacy ruled the day upstairs in Lego Land.

Narrowly avoiding a catastrophic Lego war, in which many ships, planes, stations and Lego people would have surely been annihilated, all parties agreed to a full and swift disarmament after Captain Silver and General Nautilus of the coalition called upon the once-evil Lord Blockhead to join in them in peace negotiations and proposed an unconditional peace treaty and weapons elimination.

Accepting the terms with open but different color arms, Lord Blockhead returned to Terror Tower aboard an air cruiser and commanded his ogres, skeletons and “mixed-pieces” army to shed and dismantle every blaster and bomb in possession, and return the parts to the Lego Common Bin. The same was done aboard the Bounty Hunter’s ship, the Ezra, as well the White Knights’ flying fortress, where all missiles and “special technology” weaponry was manually taken apart by trained technicians and put back into the bin.

“Months ago, Lego Land was a peaceful land,” said Silver. “It was not until we started building and stockpiling weapons – simply because of our own misunderstandings of each other – did the whispers of war intensify,” he said. He said with Lego Common nearly exhausted in the months-long pre-war effort, rebuilding would prove impossible if war broke out.

“This marks a pivotal moment in Lego history,” said Nautilus from the deck of the Ezra, where the three leaders met to forge the treaty. “We hope that this agreement is everlasting, and that each Lego from this day forth will be used for good – for engineering and R&D – and for expanding the minds of children everywhere,” he said.

When words end

Father/Son moment of insight tonight: There comes a time in every deep discussion between a father and son (read: heated argument) when words should simply cease, resolution notwithstanding – not because we give up on resolution, but because there comes a time when words should give way to silent reflection on what the other has said.

Neither father nor son, we can’t flow from the heart, when we’re spouting from the mouth.

(photo: Enokson@Flickr)

Relationships (all of them)

From the time my oldest son could understand, I began to teach him that all living things on Earth exist within three primary forms of symbiotic relationships.

I explained the ‘mutualistic,’ in which both organisms benefit from each each other. I explained ‘commensalism,’ where one benefits while the other does not but is not harmed.

Clownfish feed on small invertebrates that harm the sea anemone, while the fish are protected from predators by the anemone’s stinging cells, to which the clownfish is immune. Photo credit: richardminick (Flickr)

Finally I explained there are also ‘parasites,’ organisms that benefit while the other is harmed. Here I added, parasites break down further into two types; one that eventually kills its host, and one that relies on the host’s survival.



I taught him that with all living things on Earth, these are the three ways in which they relate to each other. This too, I told him, applies to man. Because modern man’s tendency is toward the parasitic, I taught him that we should always strive to cultivate mutualistic relationships with others – man and animals alike, and the whole of the earth, and live in a way that benefits ourselves as well as others, and avoid doing harm to either.



I suspect he, as well as all of us, will need to be reminded of this often, and I hope he teaches this to his children too.

Teaching my kids to speak the truth

UPDATE: So when he came home, I told him I shared our story with some of my online parent friends. He was not really happy about that at all. “What?!” he said. “I thought you said you weren’t going to tell anyone?! I thought that was just between us … you lied!” Ouch. He went on about it for about 2 minutes and finally concluded firmly, “Well … I forgive you Dad, one hundred percent.”

But in the end, he is right to be upset about it and I’ve concluded, it was a mistake to share this story with others online. I told him I would not, and I turned around and did. The value of sharing insight with other parents, even for the innocent sake of learning together, is not greater than the value of sharing a solid impenetrable trust between a father and son. My take away – our take away – is the reminder that as parents we are far from perfect and we are seldom if ever “right,” in what we do. And thus, between my 7-year-old and I, the playing field of truth and honesty is now level. I think this puts him at a powerful position.  I will explain this to him and I hope he hold the position honorably.

Today, my 7-year-old son lied.

It was a big lie.

He lied to his nurse, his teacher and both his mom and me, saying he was “super exhausted” and couldn’t finish out the day at school. But, he didn’t put on a very convincing act. After he got home, while still in the car, my wife and I interrogated him to no avail. No fever, no nausea, no headaches … nothing. Just “tired,” though he didn’t look it, and had no reason to be as tired as he claimed.

The only thing I knew for certain was that he was well enough to go back, and finish out the day. On the way back to school, just he and I, I told him I was giving him a chance to come clean, and I promised him – between him and me (it wouldn’t leave the car) – he could tell me the truth and I wouldn’t get mad. With that, and quivering lip, he opened right up, and the unfiltered truth spilled right out of him. Having just celebrated his 7th birthday yesterday, all he could think about at school was coming home and playing with all of his new toys – and so he fabricated the “exhausted” story to ditch second grade. I told him I wasn’t mad, and that in fact, I understood how he felt. I’ve been there.

I told him I thought it was a bad choice, and why, and I helped him understand what kind of a life he can expect for himself if making bad choices becomes habit. I told him once we got to school, he needed to come clean with them too, which, though a little apprehensive, he did honorably.

And I think he understands how silly his choice was, and that no one’s going to come unglued on him for it. I told him again, as I always have, that if he’s always honest with me, he won’t get in trouble – no matter what.

I’ve thought about this a lot – and I’ve definitively decided today, that from here forward, rather than grind down my kids for lying, instead, I’m going to give them an incentive to tell the truth. And I’m going to avoid getting angry about it. It’s thus far the most effective approach I’ve found to foster honesty.

Speak softly and carry a big heart

Six months and one day ago, as we rang in the New Year, my resolution was to refrain from raising my voice at my boys.

I gave it my best effort.

I had almost forgotten about it until two days ago when my oldest son asked me, “Dad, have you ever yelled at me?”

“Of course,” I said, trying remember the last time I actually had used volume to make a point, but I came up cold.

I really don’t remember the last time.

The resolution to speak softly has become a new habit and now, having broken the old habit of shouting, here’s what I’ve discovered.

Yelling discourages dialog. It says, “I’m louder. I’m superior. I win. The end.”

Not yelling encourages listening. Now when I speak in corrective terms, my kids listen carefully. If I tell them quietly but clearly, “if you don’t go up stairs right now and clean your room, I’m going to come up with a trash bag and clean it myself,” they know I mean it.

Yelling gives us a false assumption that we’ve actually punished. After spouting off an angry pitch at our kids, so often we take no further action toward correcting their behavior. When children are little, yelling is terrifying to them. It is enough to get them moving. But as they get older, they get desensitize to it. The problem is we keep doing it thinking it is still effective.

Yelling is knee jerk. It’s from the place of anger, the place of irrational reaction.

Not yelling is controlled. It’s from the place of caring, the place of rational response.

Personally, I feel a lot less stress when I don’t yell. When the boys do something that would otherwise make my blood boil, I find myself thinking calmly to myself, “what is the most effective way to deal with this,” and then I apply it.

If it doesn’t work, I try something else. But I don’t get irrational.

Yelling, I have discovered, is one of those psycho-somatic things … like smiling. If you do it, the corresponding emotion follows.  So even if I wasn’t mad, all it took was brief shouting session to get me there.

I know many parents who are semi to staunchly authoritarian. Some might think that my newer softer tone makes me a push over. Some might even say it makes me a weak father figure.

But I would offer that any action born from anger is not controlled and that in fact, it takes a great deal of strength to restrain our actions – especially when we are angry.

Comparatively, acting on impulse seems weak.

I’m happy I broke the yelling habit. In doing so, I’m setting a better example for my boys.

Over time they too will understand that they don’t have to use a loud voice to make a strong point.

Reflections on the Japanese earthquake and tsunami disaster

A Mother’s Love
by Kumi Pinneo

– English translation from a Japan Sankei News article, March 21, 2011

[ … She doesn’t raise her voice to call his name anymore.

It has been nine days after the terrible disaster for a mother looking for her 9-year-old son, in a twisted place where his elementary school once stood.

“I know he is not alive, but he must be very cold in there – I just wanna hold him in my arms and take him out of the dark and cold place,” she said.

Her son was at school when the huge earthquake shook Japan. Few if any, especially that boy’s mother, expected a giant tsunami would eat the whole town only a few minutes later.

In those moments, all the students ran to high ground to escape. But the power of nature was bigger than any could imagine. The monster tsunami swallowed 108 students in one relentless bite.

Only 24 students survived. Many bodies are still under knots of rubble, splintered schools, homes, cars and trees. Many parents still today come to this place to look for their children’s bodies … ]

ISHINOMAKI, Miyagi Pref., Japan - Small bags near the Ooakawa School, Mar. 18, 2011, where numerous children went missing after a tsunami engulfed the building. (Japan Sankei News)

As a mother of two boys, it just hurts my heart so much to read that.

How could I face the fact if I lost them? How could I face that fact if I couldn’t find their bodies in the wreckage, knowing they are in that dark and cold place? How could I control myself?

The mother above was not crying or screaming or going crazy.
She just looked and looked and looked for her beloved son.

As a mother, I strive to protect my sons from any danger and I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe. But what if their safety is out of my control?  What if we cannot protect our children from injury or death?

What would I do?

What would I feel?

I have no idea. I can’t even imagine.

I feel for that mother in Japan so much. I really feel her – as if I was her. But I think that what I am feeling for her is not even one percent of what she is feeling.

Such as it is with earthquakes and tsunami, the power of nature is strong and often human beings have no power over it and it just happens. The Japan earthquake and tsunami disaster was no one’s fault. It just happened. It happened just as spring arrives in one’s town.

Can that mother blame someone or something? No, she can not.

What is she feeling right now? I pray that we will never know.

Let’s hug and kiss our children when they leave the house each day for school.
When they leave, let’s not forget to let them know – to make them feel – that they are so loved.
Sometimes they give us a hard time whining, fussing, ignoring us, yelling and distracting.

However we do not want to regret. We do not want to look back, at the moments that we didn’t give them hugs and kisses, and wish we had.

~ With love and respect to all the mothers in Japan who lost their children, but not their hope.

Carry on ole’ boy, carry on …

I enjoyed this morning photographing Mark, Mary and their 2-year-old boy Constantine. They were great people of an enchanting tale:

She from Kansas, he from London, in motion and in love – and the rest is history.

(insert smile here.)

You know, I can’t help it. There’s just something indescribably special about getting to know new friends though the lens of a camera.

And to see families happily huddled together in few square feet and carrying on that age-old tradition of a portrait sitting – call me sentimental – but it’s just really, really nice to be a part of.

To think that someday, long from now when I’m dead and dust, someone might be thumbing through the very photographs we made this morning and say, “That’s your great, great grand dad Constantine when he was little,” … I think that’s pretty cool.

A Dog’s Ten Commandments

Thanks to my pal Bill –  cop, wildlife photographer and father of three – for sending this along.

We haven’t gotten our boys a puppy yet – but with each year, it gets closer and closer. And when that day comes, I’m printing the list below, and hanging it in a central place in the house where everyone can see it daily.

As we’ve all heard and have said many times before, “having a puppy is a big responsibility: you have to feed it, walk it, potty train it, etc.”

All basic rules.

But it’s the thoughts below that make all the difference.

Thanks for the reminder, Bill.

A Dog’s Ten Commandments

1. Don’t leave me alone. My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any separation from you is likely to be painful.
2. Give me time to understand what you want of me.
3. Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.
4. Don’t be angry with me for long and don’t lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends, your entertainment, but I have only you.
5. Talk to me. Even if I don’t understand your words, I do understand your voice when speaking to me.
6. Be aware that however you treat me, I will never forget it.
7. Before you hit me, before you strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet, I choose not to bite you.
8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I’m not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old or weak.
9. Please take care of me when I grow old, as you too, will grow old.
10. On the ultimate difficult journey, when my time here has come to an end, go with me please. Never say you can’t bear to watch. Don’t make me face this alone. Everything is easier if you are there with me, because I love you so.

Telling the Truth

When I was twenty two years old, I decided to read an entire set of encyclopedias. I was that guy.

I wish I could say I finished, but the truth is, I had randomly hand picked about half of them to keep in my car (yeah, I was that guy, too.) So with half in my small New York apartment, and the other half in the back of my silver Ford Escort station wagon, I just never got a good reading system going to finish the collection.

One night however, back then with a bottle of Merlot and hand-rolled cigarettes, while curled up with a hard-cover copy of A-B, I came across the name, Bobadilla, and the very interesting story accompanying it.

It was one of the first times I realized that I had been lied to in grade school. You know, deliberately speaking falsely is one thing, but in some cases, I believe intentional omission of facts is akin to lying.

And so we have Bobadilla.

The Cliff Notes version is Francisco de Bobadilla was hired by Spanish King Ferdinan and Queen Isabella to take over for good ole’ Chris Columbus across the way here in the New Land. In 1500, once Bobadilla got there (or here, rather) he confirmed reports that Columbus had been a cruel and dishonorable leader in the Americas, and was thus sent back to Spain in shackles and chains.

And while I don’t imagine anyone will rush to their dusty book shelves to read the rest of the story, they might read more online about how Christopher Columbus was arrested.

It’s insightful, especially for the generations who learned in school the story of Christopher Columbus the hero, who set out bravely in search of the New World, with his three mighty ships, The Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Ma- OK, you know the plot, at least as we were told it in school.

Why do we uphold the tradition of telling our kids the sanitized versions of such historic tales, and then fail to follow up with the truth, the rest of the story, when they are older? Like the Native Americans and White Man sitting down to break bread, and be at peace, and live in harmony and be BFF’s. Oh, is that how it happened? I’m not so sure that’s the whole story.

I suppose it’s gotten better to some degree. My father’s generation was taught in school that the Red Man was nothing but a savage, beast-like man who scalped the innocent. Since then, history texts have undergone major restorations, to reflect the Native American’s naturally spiritual and peaceful ways, and the greed and plunder of their paler “visitors.”

Or on Valentine’s Day, which we learn is about love and cutting pink doilies and making cards when we are little – but then we are never set down in class at an older age and told about St. Valentine, one of many martyrs killed, for right or wrong, for what he believed in. That’s an important story, and a great lesson wasted. It’s a missed opportunity for a sixteen-year old student and a crucial question not asked: What would you defend until the end?

I just think telling our kids partial truths breeds confusion.

I’m not sure if it’s gotten better since I was in school, so I asked my six year son tonight what he learned about Christopher Columbus this year, and he said, “well, he only wanted gold and spices to get rich and someone else actually discovered America anyway.”

It’s a step in the right direction, I guess.

But it’s still a half truth, which is a gross inadequacy of our American education system.

I don’t propose to have a answer. But I have a question. How can we expect our kids to grow into responsible adults who speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, when we ourselves condone, and in some case even encourage, the glossing over of crucial points of life?

It’s a gap I hope all of us parents can shorten, together as we go.