Category: Kids

Queen of Frisbee

Grandpa brought a Frisbee into town yesterday and the kids have acted like he gave them each a golden ticket to Grandpa Nordquist’s Chocolate Factory. This afternoon we gathered the kids to toss it around the backyard.

This wasn’t your run of the mill Frisbee toss. Grandpa would throw the magic green disc to Luca who would throw it to me. I’d throw it to Lincoln who would roll it or run it to Grandpa who would throw it to Anna. This is where the game ground to a halt.

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Anna would take the Frisbee and place it on her head and proclaim herself, Queen of Frisbee. This didn’t last long. Eventually Luca and Lincoln would run after her until she was tackled and the Frisbee was extracted from her hands.

Thankfully, the game only lasted about 20 minutes before Anna hooked a tossed into our neighbors yard. It’s a yard like that on Sandlot, home to a gigantic dog and lots of spiders in the grass.

At least that’s what I told them.

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An Answer for Everything

Maybe it’s a trait all big sisters possess,but I’ve noticed that Luca always has an answer to Lincoln’s questions no matter how off the wall they may be.

Last night I enlisted the kids help to wash both my black car and mom’s white van. I gave Luca and Lincoln two rags to wipe down the car. They dipped their rags into the bucket of sudsy water and were enjoying themselves until they noticed I’d given Anna a huge pink sponge to do the same. I still can’t believe I made such an amateur mistake. I should have given each kid the same size and color rag so they wouldn’t argue over the sponge. I thought chants of "Hey dad, how come we don’t get a BIG PINK SPONGE??!!" would be followed by, "You must only love Anna". I learned my lesson and it won’t happen again.

So I began to hose down the cars while the kids rotated the sponge on a perfectly timed schedule to ensure no one had the sponge 2 seconds longer than the others. Lincoln looked up with soap on his cheeks and asked, "How come dad’s car is always cleaner than moms?" Before I could answer, Luca said, "Because mom has to clean stuff in the house all day and she’s tired of cleaning".

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Why Kai

While I was serving as a Mormon missionary in Germany, I was called to serve in a small town called Unna that lies a few miles east of the much larger city of Dortmund. I’d served about 6 months and was starting to feel comfortable with the German language although topics outside of church doctrine were still a challenge. But I loved tiny Unna and its friendly residents, great Bratwurst and cobblestone streets which wove through the town.

One afternoon, my companion and I walked into a tiny bookstore where we struck up a conversation with the bookkeeper. She invited us over to her home to meet her boyfriend; a guy named Kai. I remember the first visit well. Instead of presenting our prepared lessons about our church, Kai asked me to explain the rules of baseball. The four of us sat around a table while I took out a piece of paper and pen and began by drawing a baseball diamond and attempting, as best I could, to explain each position and its responsibilities. It wasn’t long before I asked to swap out my pen for a pencil because I was making a mess. I did the best I could explaining the basics of of the game and thought I was doing well until Kai asked me to explain the infield fly rule and what a balk is. I had about as much luck explaining the nuances of baseball as I did teaching them about my church.

We became good friends with Kai and Barbara over the few months I was assigned to Unna. We’d regularly stop by the bookstore to visit Barbara, and she would invite us over for dinner often. The only thing they asked of us was that we spend half the visit talking about our church and  and the other half discussing sports and music, Kai’s two favorite topics.

I didn’t exactly hit a home run with my baseball rules on a napkin diagram so we spent much of the visit listening to and discussing music, specifically Simon and Garfunkel which is Kai’s favorite. I’d heard a number of their songs by this time and began to like them a lot.

A mission is a strange thing. Although I was happy to be serving my church and making my family proud, I was often very lonely. Few people wanted to speak with me about the church which means most days were filled with rejection, slammed doors and a good dose of humility. Most Germans were very kind although the college age kids could be brutal and many harassed us every chance they had. As much as I wanted to jump off my bike and defend myself, doing so would earn me with a one-way ticket home. A mission is a two year exercise in restraint.

Meeting people as kind as Kai and Barbara was a treat for sure so I was bummed when I found out I’d be transferred to another city in less than a week. We spent a lot of time together during those few remaining days. During our last visit, I heard the song, “I Am A Rock” off Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits album. When I told Kai how much I enjoyed the song, he made a cassette tape I could take to my next town.

The day came to say goodbye and continue my service in a new area. Kai and Barbara took the day off to see me off at the train station. I had some rough days on my two year mission but this easily ranks near the top of crappy days. I said goodbye to my friends and boarded a train for Fulda. I sat down on the the squishy train seats with my headphones on listening to “I Am a Rock” watching my friends wave goodbye as tears streamed down my face. 

A winters day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island

Simon & Garfunkel – I Am A Rock

When Kim and I were discussing names for our soon to arrive baby boy  last fall, I told her how much I liked the name Kai, and was surprised when she didn’t veto it because she had done just that with another German named liked: Hans. We named our son Kai which is a tribute to my friend who came into my life at exactly the right time. I loved his positive attitude and joy for life, and I hope we can raise our son to have those same attributes.

The Joys of Family

I remember the exact place and time. I was standing in our kitchen in our small home in Woodinville, WA. Kim stood next to me. I could tell she was excited about something but was waiting for the right time to tell me. She was giddy and nervous and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

She finally got around to saying, “We are having a baby!” and I stood there stunned and not sure what to say. But my initial shock quickly wore off and we smile and hugged each other for a long time. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face for days. Everywhere I went, I would tell myself over and over, “I’m going to be a dad”. Maybe I felt that if I said it enough I’d start to feel like one.

We now have four children and each time Kim told me another one was on the way, I was thrilled. I figured that with each child I’d feel more mature and more prepared to welcome the next one into our family. But that wasn’t the case. Each time I experienced a number of emotions ranging from excitement to shock to sheer joy to feeling overwhelmed. I believe this is normal.

With each child we wondered how the next would change the dynamics of our family. I wouldn’t say we planned the arrival for each child, waiting for the ideal time for another child. There’s a magic surrounding the birth of a child and I felt too much planning would ruin the moment. One of the great joys of raising children is seeing how they interact and grow together, and we are happy with our decisions to have them close in age.

Before I leave for work each morning, I  walk into their rooms and kiss them goodbye. It’s the only time of the day their little bodies aren’t running or dancing or wiggling around. I never tire of this routine. Yet some mornings, I stand back to look at them and wonder why I deserve such a rich life full of great kids. They bring so much happiness into my life.

Of course, there are many challenges and I make lots of mistakes. But the good time are so fantastic that it’s hard to imagine my life without them.

Just Add Water

I’ve stumbled onto a secret yesterday that I’m surprised I didn’t recognize earlier:

Water + Chore = Fun

For example, asking one my children to feed the dog results in more than a few “why me?” shrugs. But ask one of them refill the dogs water dish and fight breaks out over who gets to do it.

Having a hard time getting your kids to work in the yard? Just the suggestion of getting to water the flowers (and a lot of driveway and street) will have them running for their work gloves.

Yesterday I decided to wash both cars. I started to lecture the kids on the importance of staying in the back yard while dad worked out front and then it hit me: Hey, this gang of energy might as well start pulling their own weight around here.

So I filled a bucket of soap and water and located a rag for each child. I started two kids on opposite sides of the car and gave Anna Lynn the task of washing the wheels. I went around washing the windows and hood, but I was impressed at how well the kids cleaned everything else!

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Anna Lynn washing the wheels and the driveway

The only problem I ran into was all three kids wanted to spray the soap off the car and we only have two cars. But even this was solved when I realized Lincoln would rather squirt his sisters than spray off the car so I put him on “towel off all the doors” duty.

Now I just need to dream up a scheme that convinces them how exciting it would be to vacuum the cars.

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The Couch Cushion Fort

My parents had an old brown and orange couch with big puffy cushions that I’d assemble into my own Bat Cave. It was my own little domain. At least for a few minutes before the whole thing would collapse and I’d scramble to get the cushions back on the couch before mom busted me.

So it’s no wonder my kids love making their own couch cushion fort. I’m not sure what Kim and I were thinking when we bought this set of furniture a couple of years ago. We should have recognized the cushions were removable and put 2 and 2 together.

The forts my kids build are a lot more complex than those I assembled. Luca and Lincoln will use blankets, chairs, brooms and the treadmill to create a fort with several rooms. I’m amazed at how much time they will spend preparing the fort and making sure each area is stable.

I don’t love the mess a broken down fort in the basement leaves, but I enjoy sneaking into the room and listening to them make plans deciding who gets which part of the fort.

I always blow my own cover when I start laughing at their plans. Eventually I end up chasing the kids through the fort till it falls to the ground. That’s when I’m left folding the blankets while the kids put the cushions back on the couch in a manner only they understand.

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Little Miss Smartie Pants

One advantage of being the dad is being able to enforce the Dad Tax which states that a small portion of any food item goes to dad. For example, after the kids return from trick or treating, they each take turns dumping their bags of loot on the kitchen table. Once all the candy is organized into proper piles, Dad gets first choice of 5 items.

The Dad Tax relies on deflection, quick thinking and the kid’s questionable math skills. Whenever I order a few Happy Meals the kids start to complain when I sneak a few of their french fries until I remind them I only took one fry instead of what looked like five or six to them. image

But I was reminded that all this school has upped the ante when attempting to enact the Dad Tax on Luca. The other day she took a few rolls of Smarties candy and placed them on the kitchen table. I watched as she moved them around making different shapes until she got up to grab a glass of water. This was the perfect opportunity to collect the Dad Tax as I quietly snatched four Smarties. She looked over and saw me laughing and said, “Hey! I hope all my Smarties are still there. I counted 30 of them!’”

Collecting the Dad Tax had never been met with such resistance. Luca returned to her seat and began to count her Smarties one by one. “Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six…..HEY! Someone took FOUR SMARTIES!

I was busted. The weak link in the Dad Tax is that it relies too heavily on my kids possessing poor math skills. Looks like this tax has met its match in a 1st grader who’s a Little Miss Smartie Pants.

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The Supersized Soccer Snack

When I played soccer as a kid we were lucky if a parent remembered to bring along a bag of oranges cut into fourths for our halftime and after game snack.

Times have sure changed.

If I were to cut up some oranges for my son’s game, he’d be kicked off the team. Good old fashioned, healthy oranges no longer make the grade. At the end of my son’s game last week, another parent brought bags full of snacks so large I thought he was going away to summer camp because it was enough food to last him for a week. image

Who SUPERSIZED the soccer snack?

The typical soccer snack today includes a full size Gatorade, bag of chips, bag  of cookies, and a granola bar. My wife brought hot chocolate on an unseasonably cold morning in addition to the snack. She didn’t think anything of it because the bar had been set earlier in the season.

The problem stems from the overzealous parents who bring the snack to the first game. They set the tone for the rest of the season because each subsequent game becomes an exercise in trying to one-up the previous week’s snack.

The season starts out with bottled water and celery sticks but ends with enough junk food to make my kids pull their shirts over their heads and do the “ Great Cornholio” for the next seven hours.