We Went on that Picnic

A few posts ago, I said that I liked picnics. I even started out with my wife on a picnic. It was time to go on one again, and last weekend was too beautiful, so we took advantage of it.
I packed the portable grill, a cooler full of hot dogs and Cokes, and some fishing gear into the back of our snazzy little Focus hatchback, packed the kids into their car seats, and the lovely wife and I took off for the nearest State Park at 10:30 on a Sunday morning.
Our timing was perfect. It was early in the day and early in the season, so it wasn't crowded. We spread out our blanket under big oak tree, not far from the little pond with the fishing pier, and fired up the grill while we watched our daughters, 4 and 2, run around in a sand pit.
When the grill was ready, and the little one was napping, we showed our older daughter how to cook a dog on a skewer over the flames. I even had a chance to sneak a kiss or two with my wife, and remind her that our first date was exactly 9 years ago. She smiled, and said she knew.
After lunch, I took my 4 year old to that little fishing pond, helped her set up a rod, and cast for some fish. She wasn't scared when we caught a koi, but she wouldn't touch it, either. She said it was "Eew." When I threw the fish back, she said he was swimming home.
Good intuition on her part, because it was time for us to head home, too. It was a great day, though. And a lot of fun.

The Art of the Couch Potato

I don't know if this is fun, but my brother has raised the act of watching TV to an art form. He's got a couch that is exactly 6 inches longer than he is tall, and I know for a fact that he consulted a seamstress to have custom made cushions. He's got TiVo, so he'll never miss his favorite shows. He's got an arrangement with Sam, down at the corner store, so he'll never run out of his favorite chips, either. It's scary, the amount of effort he has put into watching TV.

He recently got a dog, a big, friendly Rottwieler, and he taught it to facilitate his television habit.

The dog can fetch the remote control. My brother keeps a roll of paper towels under the cushions of the couch, for slobber control.

The dog can also open the fridge, and get a beer. He can only manage the long neck bottles right now, but my brother is working with him on picking up cans. He (my brother) keeps a bottle opener and a tube of non-water hand cleanser in the end table drawer, to reasons of sanitation during beer drinking.

The dog can even close the door on the fridge, after safely delivering a beer.

My brother has told me that if he could teach the dog to go and actually buy the beer, than everything would be perfect. I wondered, but not out loud, if this had anything to do with his divorce?

She Taught Me How To Dance

I was watching my daughter yesterday. She was dancing, which is nothing unusual for her.

Dancing is a very special thing for her, and she does it a lot. For her, a dance involves a lot of wide, sweeping arm movements, a gentle sway back and forth, and turning in a circle. If the music speeds up, she'll run around in a big circle. My wife jokes that whatever she does, she does in three steps: talk about it, sing about it, do an interpretive dance.

You might have guessed already, but the kid is just 4. Right now, dancing is her life. I think it helps to calm her down, and make sense of the world. Or maybe she just thinks it's fun. Sometimes, she'll dance with a wild abandon that any mosher would envy, and other times it looks like she's following well-defined steps.

Now, for my part, I have never been much of dancer. I haven't got a good sense of rhythm, and I am very self-conscious aboug how I look on a dance floor. I think I can use some lessons from my daughter.

For her, dancing is pure freedom of movement. Watching her, I can see that her dance is highly formal, but also highly free-form. It's relaxation, translated into movement.

Or maybe I am analyzing this too much. After all, she is only 4.

I hope she never loses this dance.