Hairbrainage, The Early Years

I turn fifty-one today.  There are a lot of years between our boys and me.  So many things have changed; technology has exploded, medicine has advanced, everything is so much safer now.  Even the little things like crayons and colored pencils and markers are all so much better and user friendly.  Sometimes it seems like everything has changed beyond recognition.

One thing hasn't changed much though, kids will always be silly:

Yeah, that's me talking on a carrot.

And that's N with a bucket on his head.

The nuts never fall far from the tree do they?

From Marci's '...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat...'

"Let me get an elephant so I can play the giraffe game, too"

Uhm, right...

The Paper Arts

This stuff is everywhere:

Do you remember this stuff?  "Fortune Tellers" and there are several "Chompers" in the bottom two pictures, Z is particularly fond of making those.  N is more free-form, he does little houses and vignettes, baskets and the like.

One last one:

Home made computers.  You can see more of these in a previous post called 'Com(paper)puters' from January of this year.

It all makes me think I need too much.  These little dudes are making a lot of stuff with paper, scissors and tape (tape is essential).  I am all flustered here sometimes because I think I need a better format for this blog.  I wish I had a new Go-Pro digital camera and an i-Pad and a new guitar and, well... you get the point.

As long as my imagination remains intact, the paper and scissors I have right now are perfectly fine.

Pass me the tape, please.

From Marci's '...things you don't expect to see from the backseat...'

"My knees don't work today."

Yeah...

Dr. Goo -V- Drunkard

I have pulled up lame here in the last few days.  I fell rollerskating and fully dislocated my shoulder.  For now I am trying to do most everything one-handed, fortunately it was my left shoulder.  You know, the worst part of all of it was that we were having a lot of fun when I fell.  After much discussion, they still want to go again, when one of the girls in their class is having a birthday party at the rink.  I probably will stay off the skates... for now.

On to the business at hand.

N had this to offer the other day, with the full story:

There on the right, under the moon is the evil (I think) Dr. Goo.  In an epic, nighttime rooftop battle he is taking on (could I make this up?) The Drunkard.  He holds a "flinger" which throws, er, flings, "glowing light bombs," one of which is heading right towards Dr. Goo.

I asked who that was on the far left and N informed me casually that he was one of The Drunkard's "not-evil minions."

Imagination.  I can't really say I have taught it to these guys, I can truly say that within any child under the age of ninety, it lurks.  I have mentioned before that I think N has a constant story running through his mind and I suffer the same disability.  I have always called it Cartoonland, a wondrous place where every silly little thing imaginable becomes a cartoon in my mind.

For instance, as painful and as frustrating as this shoulder dislocation is and has been, there is still a part of me that sees that moment, just before I fell, in surprisingly cartoon-like clarity.  There I am skating innocently along, I am not being stupid, I just get a little off balance, and for a few milliseconds, I go into a full blown Looney Toons mode; arms and legs akimbo, little action lines around my legs as I fall.  I imagine a big "POP' above my head as the shoulder comes out of place and I land, on my back, and the skates wheels continue to roll as the realization that agony will soon ensue shows on my overly animated face.

Somehow it helps.

From Marci's  '...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat...'

N:  "I imagine Heaven as a big bouncy world."

Well, who doesn't... ?

"The Glowing Gem of Peace"

Z did this the other day:

Oh my, that's funny.  He's clearly an alien there in his spacesuit with it's really cool flying neutron logo.  I was informed that that is a jet pack (the snail-shell looking thing) actually integrated into the suit.  And he's carrying the "glowing gem of peace."

Or is he a little teapot, short and stout? I mean, I see his handle and there is his spout.

In either case it's still the "glowing gem of peace."

(You know, I do not remember showing him how to make a peace sign.  Honestly, I have flashbacks to the early Seventies when I try.)

From Marci's '...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat...'

N:  (during a storm) "Daddy, I am trying to remain calm."

I hear ya, little dude, I hear ya....

Stencil Bear and Willaum

This is a detail of a larger panel in what is apparently a graphic novel N is putting together:

A squirrel named Willaum, "ooooh nut!s." Here's the whole page:

I must tell you (in accordance with "The Truth in Silly-Ass Blogs Act" or SABA) that the smiley moon and stars and teddy-bear guy are not original, a stencil was used.

Just to give you a lot more information than you will ever need about this picture I'll use my decoder ring.  Near the top is what I can only guess is The Stork (remember the drunken one from Looney Tunes?) saying "babeys are caming" (babies are coming).  Stencil Bear is saying "Wee!  I am having to much fun."  He seems like a happy little recovering Dead-Head. 

To the left of Stencil Bear is an ancient and sadly stunted oak tree where most of the action is taking place.  A bird's nest near the top whose occupant seems to scream at The Stork, "I am laing aggs here!" (I've got her doing it in a screechy Edith Bunker sort of voice).  Now it took me a while to figure this part out, but, what I think is going on here is a voice, presumably the squirrel below's mother, is calling him:  "Time to come inside Willaum."  'Willaum' is the forest-creature dialect spelling of William, of course.  They must live in that hole and his mother uses his whole name because there are no nicknames in the forest.

I can't help but chuckle at "ooh nuts."  I am like that and so is N. We tend to let bright and shiny things, food, pretty girls and trucks, just to name a few, quickly distract us.  I also notice that N often has the narrative of a story circling through his head as I do.  The genetics thing is sort of creepy sometimes.

On the other hand Z is remarkably task oriented.  Yesterday he sort of sniffled and sobbed for a half hour when he couldn't win all the races in a Mariokart cup he needed to open a new level.  It was sad, and, frankly kinda cute.  Children have an earnestness I didn't know until I had my own children, or, as I have mentioned before and is more likely, I had  forgotten.  I am not at all sure what's going on in Z's head.

I really do want to know what is going on in their minds.  Truly not because I think they are thinking things malicious or unsavory, in fact, precisely the opposite.  Their thoughts and dreams seem so pure to me, so honest and hopeful, so happy and silly, so sacred and simple, so genuine, that my own thoughts and dreams pale in comparison, tepid and ordinary.  I need to think more like my sons, I think it would make me a better person.

A very recent '...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat...' from Marci:

M: “Bill, remind me to tell you something when they are out of ear-shot.”
N: “We’re going to a beer shop?”

A beer shop?  Really... when has he ever heard of a beer shop?  Ohh, right...

Tenacity

First a short video:

This my take some 'xplaining, especially for  those not watching or playing Wii MarioKart or New Super Mario Bros. Wii (pronounced "newsupermariobrosweee") on a regular basis often daily constantly.  The first three dudes are regular players on Mariobros and so is Toad, however, he does not come in quite so many colors.  Nick got a little eager about these. 

Now a drawing straight from Z's drafting table:

I think it's one of those cutaway perspective drawings of the interior of a house, perhaps our house, I submit.   He got the location of the garage correct, it is on the left, other than that...  I... well, I laugh aloud every time I look at this carefully.

I'll be damned if I know why there is a baseball field in the living room (I think it is the back of the chair and the floor molding around the carpet), or why the television is on the roof (it's not, it's on the other side of the room so the perspective attempt is there).  In the kitchen there is only a faucet (although to the left of it is, I think, the fridge).  Things go horribly wrong now, oddly Escheresque, those are steps there on the right, going up to a doorway, then into the upstairs, well, er, basement where there is another doorway a ways down.  I am unaware of this area in my house so I can only assume he's working on the re-model.

Why are these two things together in a post?  What am I getting at?  Simply put:  It's all in the trying.

There are probably ten or twelve of these perspective fails by Z, and probably more he threw away.  He drew cubes for about a week when he was first shown how to draw them.  N has long made multiples on a drawing theme, in fact there was quite a series of animals he drew when he was very small, all virtually indistinguishable from the others.

But, man, just look how hard they worked on these things.  There is probably a couple of kidhours of labor put into all those Mario characters, scissor-work is not his forte, and I've seen Z working on one of these perspective drawings, erasing and replacing, for a half hour or more.

When do we loose that ability to react positively, eagerly, when we feel compelled to do something, something positive of course?  I sort of felt compelled to begin this blog but lately it has been difficult to find the time I feel I need to give it justice.  But, as I watch their intent faces, their stuck-out tongues, their little groans of frustration, their cute smirky smiles like we all get when something goes surprisingly right, as I see that intensity, I remember sitting on a bed and learning to play the guitar, flying through the Sherlock Holmes mysteries, spending a week learning to make a cube out of paper, or endlessly tossing a ball against a wall and catching it, and, nothing seems impossible anymore.

I think, when we are young warriors at heart, like these little guys, we feel we have to learn to get some things just right, practice things endlessly, explore possibilities until there are no more.  It's hard to watch because it seems to hurt a little for them, but it is necessary.

I am proud of my boys, they fail well, they fail honorably, nobly.  And, they keep trying.  My kids have so much to teach me.

Look again at Z's house, am I the only one that finds the floating window there on the far right creepy.  Oh, and it's on a bit of an angle there, in perspective.

From Marci's '...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat...'

N: "Raise your hand if you like Thanksgiving!"

Z:  "Raise your hand if you like Christmas!"

N:  "Raise your hand if you like Halloween!"

Z:  "Raise your hand if you like Your Birthday!"

N:  "Raise your hand if you like Lent!"

Really, Lent ranks fifth, who knew...?

(For more on how I feel about failing see the post "Dabby Peedles."  http://ihopeiwinatoaster.blogspot.com/2011/11/dabby-peedles.html )

Backpack Finds

Sometimes it really is too easy.  Case in point, these two gems from the folders the boys bring back and forth from school, the school calls them "communicators," I call them blog fodder.

First this from Z, talk about perspective fail, this is priceless:

And then this from Nick:

My god.  If I were given this assignment I would whine, a lot.  I mean really, all of that.  Four categories, five answers each, attempt to spell correctly, multicolored pictures, and lastly, you have to pick the last one yourself.  Come on!  Honestly, that would take me hours, agonizing over the answers, man.

From Marci's  '...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat...'

N:  "SHHHHHHH!"

(silent pause)

Mom:  "Why are we being quiet, honey?"

(long pause in silence)

N:  "If you are really quiet sometimes you can hear God."

(even longer pause in silence)

N:  "He says, No"

I know the feeling, Nick, I know the feeling...