Monday, February 25, 2008

What we do on chilly mornings

All the technology-infused toys in the universe do not compare to the fun of a good old cardboard box.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Boys will be boys?

One of my son's prized toys happens to be a shiny red miniature vacuum cleaner. I bought it for him when he was about thirteen months old when he began admiring mine so much. It looks exactly like a real Dirt Devil upright. When it's turned on, tiny foam pellets dance around in a little window and it makes a delightful motor sound, which is undoubtedly why Connor loves it so much. He's also quite rough on it, and that's probably what caused the handle to snap off a few days ago. Connor was troubled only briefly; he brought the mangled toy to me and quickly directed his interest elsewhere in the playroom. Neither of us thought much about it after that. Then last night, he picked up the broken handle of the vacuum, looked it over briefly, and with a flicker in his eye that could only be described as "instinct," he raised it to his cheek, leveled it, and scrutinized his vision down the shaft of the thing. "Ka POW!" he shouted. Cut to me, suppressing mild disdain. We don't allow toy guns in our house, and we're fairly selective about what we allow Connor to watch on television. Where had he picked up this notion? I asked him.

"The Incredibles, Mommy."

Score one for the little guy. We let him watch that one. Wow, that plastic handle does look a lot like a pistol. Weird. Should I take evasive action?

Christian author John Eldredge seems to be the popular subject of bloggery amongst my friends these days. If you're not familiar with his books, there are two you simply must read. The first, about the heart of a woman, is entitled Captivating, and although I have yet to read it, I am told it is amazing and insightful and reveals how women are made by God to desire to be valuable, to be sought after, and to be fought for. Incidentally, that's the same relationship we are designed to have with our Lord. Wild At Heart, which I have read, is the second book. It's a comparable look into the psyche of the male, about how he desires three things, namely, a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue. For me it was most enlightening. Here's a passage that was brought to my mind last night:

Capes and swords, camouflage, bandannas and six-shooters--these are the uniforms of boyhood. Little boys yearn to know they are powerful, they are dangerous, they are someone to be reckoned with. How many parents have tried in vain to prevent little Timmy from playing with guns? Give it up. If you do not supply a boy with weapons, he will make them from whatever materials are at hand. My boys chew their graham crackers into the shape of hand guns at the breakfast table. Every stick or fallen branch is a spear, or better, a bazooka. Despite what many modern educators would say, this is not a psychological disturbance brought on by violent television or chemical imbalance. Aggression is part of the masculine design, we are hardwired for it. If we believe that man is made in the image of God, then we would do well to remember that "the LORD is a warrior; the Lord is His name" (Exodus 15:3)...Like it or not, there is something fierce in the heart of every man.

So here we go, cannons forward, into the mouth of boyhood. Good thing I've got Connor to defend me.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Hopelessly un-original.

I was tagged for one of those "thirteen random things about yourself" blog deals. Originally it was going to involve just my MySpace folks, but it occurred to me that I haven't blogged here in ever so long...I might as well entertain with a few useless facts about me. You'll feel closer to me, and perhaps you may mine out some fodder for future ridicule. Always happy to help. Feel free to repost and let me know, so we can be even-stevens.

1. I have an irrational aversion to the sound that socks make when they're rubbed against a carpet. My teeth turn inside out at that sound. Please do not be tempted to make that sound in my presence in order to produce a reaction. I will smite you.

2. The only famous person I have ever had a conversation with (past the generic "love your work...Oh really? Thanks... Here, sign this.") is Geoffrey Owens, who used to play "Elvin" on The Cosby Show. He spoke to my acting class at UA and then we took him out for drinks afterward. I have no idea what we talked about. He was nice. I was probably an idiot.

3. I once cried for an hour and a half because someone stepped on a bug.

4. Between the ages of two and nine, I lived in a haunted house. It was during this time that I developed the habit of sleeping with the covers over my ears. I still find it comforting. And although you'd think the opposite, I LOVE ghost stories.

5. I didn't get my first kiss until I was 17. And I thought it was sloppy and un-romantic.

6. I am a mathematical idiot. Truly. I cannot add two figures without a mild panic.

7. At my very first audition for a play, I locked myself in a bathroom stall out of abject terror. A decade later, I entered college with the intention of majoring in performing arts.

8. I miss my dog. He was the most annoying creature ever spawned, and he shed enough to scrape together five small dogs every few days, but I loved him. I hope wherever he is, he's happy.

9. I don't own an Ipod. I haven't purchased myself music, cd, audiocassette or otherwise, since before I was married. This needs to change.

10. Watching certain shows on HGTV makes me furious. There are children in third world nations and in our own cities who are malnourished an uneducated, but Moneybags Mc Blingbling has to have an elevator for his car.

11. My new favorite website is Those wacky caucasians. Now I know what it's like to be one of them. I too would pay exorbitant amounts for the perfect panini.

12. When I was four, I wanted to know what it was like to be my cat, so I crouched behind the shrubs in the front yard and took a dump. It wasn't everything I dreamed it would be.

13. I am a deplorable dancer. Beyond wretched. I can barely walk.