Sunday, June 03, 2007

Viewer Mail

A few of my recent posts have actually generated some incoming e-mail, so I thought I would respond here in addition to the messages I sent back to the respective writers. First off, I’m happy to report that Ava is fine. She is running around and bouncing all over the place, as usual, and seems to have lost not a step or an iota of fun-loving spirit. I believe that may be the first time in my life that I have used the word “iota” in a sentence, and I’ll be 41 next month, so we can chalk this post up as historic right now.

We really do appreciate all the calls, messages and visits over the last few days, and appreciate even more the fact that the worst moment we faced together in this thing was the actual break and the hour or so it took to get Ava’s arm squared away and in a pretty purple cast. Since then it’s been pretty smooth sailing. We’ve given her Motrin occasionally when she reports that her arm hurts – typically at night – but that’s about it.

[Ava's definition of taking it easy and being careful, three days after she fell off a fence and smashed both bones in her left arm.]

We had the dress rehearsal for the girls’ upcoming dance recital this morning. Long-term readers will remember the drama of last year’s installment, and I’m happy to report that this time around everything went great – Ava put her costume on, danced and everything, even with a cast, which she somehow manages to make look adorable, on her arm.

One other note on the rehearsal – at this point every kid under the age of 12 in America must be wearing Crocs, because I stopped counting pairs after hitting double digits within about five minutes of our arrival. I can’t even imagine how many of these things this company is going to sell over the next few months, but now that we’re shareholders at least we stand to benefit.

The post on my growing Australian fan base prompted one Aussie reader to write, and it was great to know that Sitemeter isn’t fabricating all this exotic international traffic in an attempt to get me to upgrade my subscription and actually pay them something. Since I don’t have comments enabled on the blog, I covered why here, e-mail is really the only way for me to correspond with readers, and it’s a great and welcome development when someone who enjoys the site takes the time to knock out a little message, especially from halfway around the world. Thanks Anna.

Finally, I got an e-mail from a good friend and long-time reader, tweaking me from across the country for the “Three Great Days” post about our terrific Memorial Day weekend. No need for me to try to recreate or characterize the verbiage, here it is:

“Subject: your bucolic – READ FICTIONAL -- weekend

Don’t your kids ever misbehave, talk back, sass you, get time outs? Or is it just mine?”

I was so unfamiliar with the terms used in this writer’s message that I actually had to break out the dictionary and acquaint myself with words like “misbehave” and “sass.” I assumed “time out” had something to do with a sporting event, but the reference didn’t seem to make sense in this context so I really couldn’t be sure.

Of course our children misbehave, talk back, sass, and even argue at times. They can be demanding and impatient. Give Madison any kind of significant helping of sugar and you’d better be prepared for an out-of-control outburst that actually holds a candle to the famous "NO... MORE... WIRE... HANGERS!" scene in Mommie Dearest. It’s not pretty, although on the rare occasions when it happens it is also, mercifully, short-lived. I’m sure our family dynamic is more or less representative of everyone else’s. I don’t rush off to the computer to document the latest example of bad behavior, or most recent parental challenge, because this isn’t intended to be a clinical or 100-percent comprehensive “warts and all” examination of our lives together. Anyone looking for that kind of entertainment can watch Dr. Phil.

And, after all, the title of the blog is “I think this world is perfect,” not “Raising Mouthy Brats,” or “We had kids… what the F were we thinking?”


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