Category: Family (Page 12 of 16)

Before I headed out for my prison mentoring session on Tuesday, Jaimito ran up to me with a toy he had fetched from his room.  "Daddy, I have a toy for the boys."  He had heard me talk about the kids in the prison, and assuming that being kids like himself, they would appreciate a toy.  He pressed the toy into my hands.  I was immediately touched, but how will I let Jaimito down easily?  These aren’t boys like him, but big boys.

"Jaimito, the boys aren’t allowed to have toys in the prison."  His face fell, and his little shoulders slumped forward.  I knew the look on his face.  He felt stupid for even suggesting it.  He had been generous and had had his generosity batted away like a fly.  It is such a sad thing, when a little beautiful face such as his has fallen.  A tear came to my eye.  "Jaimito, you’re the most wonderful little boy in the world.  You are a wonderful generous little man to give your toys to the boys.  I’m sure they would really appreciate it." I hugged him and peppered him with kisses until he pushed me away.

"Daddy!"  And he wiped his cheek. 

Ahh…. tough little boys, I sighed.  So tough with his emotions.  Where did he learn that?  Certainly not from Cries-during-Bambi-Daddy.

After the prison session had finished I told Susan and Loretta about Jaimito’s gesture and his subsequent dashed spirits.

"That is just too darling.  Why don’t you have him give the kids some candy?  They’re allowed to have candy," Susan offered.

"That was a great idea.  Now Jaimito and I have a project, and Jaimito will get to offer some help to the kids in need."  I love this daddy job thing – nothing better in this world.

"Daddy," Olaia said to me, "I think Jaimito went peepee on the floor."

"Oops, what happened?"  I quickly went to see, and sure enough, there was a suspicious yellow puddle in front of the toilet.  Jaimito quickly arrived on the scene, looking nervous. "Did you go peepee on the floor, Jaimito?" I asked taking on a tone of interrogation.  I made a rookie mistake, asking him directly if he had gone peepee on the floor.  He quickly replied that no, he had not gone peepee on the floor.  It looked like peepee.  I smelled cover up.

I asked him again, but this time in a judicious opened ended fashion, my years on the street serving me well.  I’m going to give this one enough rope to hang himself.  "Jaimito, what happened here?"

"It fell.  I was wiping myself, and it fell.  It happened to Olaia," he explained.  I was lost, what fell, the peepee?  How, did you shoot it out of the toilet?  Then suddenly, I saw it, a giant wet dripping roll of Charmin stacked neatly on the back of the toilet, dripping the telltale liquid, drip drip drip down the wall.  Placed with the utmost care, almost indiscernible except for the yellow hue.

"Oh, my goodness," I burst, "Jaimito, you poor little thing, you should have called me when you dropped the toilet paper.  I would have gotten it out for you.  Let’s wash our hands little man.  Ewwww yucky yucky yucky."

"It’s okay, Daddy, I got it out,"  like, it’s no big deal Daddy, see it’s good as new, just let it dry out and we’ll all be wiping our asses with it no time at all – no harm no foul.  My heart went out to our fastidious little munchkin and his detail oriented self-sufficient nature.

I gave him a quick clean up, half bath, a bunch of hugs and kisses, and more hugs and kisses, and some more after that.  That little boy is such a super trooper, but like his mommy is determined to do things for himself.  He likes to take care of business on his own.  Sometimes though, I worry, and I hope that he’ll learn that he can’t do everything on his own and sometimes you’ve got to call for help.  Sometimes it’s all right to lean on Daddy.
 

"My butt has to go caca," he said to me, "I ate some food in my tummy, and my butt said, ‘I have to go caca’"

Jaimito’s body parts each have a distinctive personality.  His toes say "hi", his arms are tired, his tummy is hungry, his legs have needs, his mouth has desires, and his little butt tells him when it has to go caca.  Laura tells me that she had the same whimsical fancies as a young girl.  Everything was magical, fantastical, and lyrical, all broadcasting in a tapestry of dialog to which we must listen and wonder. 

Jaimito’s little black pools for eyes twinkled at me.  "Daddy, my toes are saying hi" as if they had a mind of their own, their own desires, their own spirit. 

Another time, "Daddy, my arms are sad," he said, his shoulders slumped over. 

He was bummed about something and so I asked him, "Why are your arms sad?"

"I don’t know, just because."

I picked him up, hugged his arms and talked to his arms asking why they were sad.  I don’t remember if he ever told me why, but after a few minutes he said, "My arms aren’t sad anymore.  They feel better."

"I’m glad your arms feel better, little boy."

Olaia picked up the Performance Bicycling catalog from the coffee table and curled up on the couch with it.  "Mommy, when I get a little older, I want this," and she pointed out a specific item.  

"Oh, my dear," Laura giggled, "you’re gonna get a kick out of this."

"What, lemme see," and I leaned over to see what Olaia had selected.  Her finger was on a little pink girlie bicycling top, right there in the women’s fashions section.

"When I’m older, I’m going to wear this when I go with Daddy to buy milk."  She beamed as she dreamed of her pink top and her bicycle and riding with her bestest Daddy in the whole wide world.

Olaia, pushed her bicycle out of the garage and down the sidewalk towards the park.

"Daddy, this is hard.  The bike is heavy.  It wants to pull me down the hill."

"Just hang on little girl.  You’re doing fine.  Okay, stop there.  Let’s wait for Jaimito."  Jaimito was pulling his Hot Cycle, trying to hang onto his Matchbox cars at the same time.  His little desires had overwhelmed his abilities and cars began to fall.  

"Daddy! Help me!"

"Here, let me put them in my pocket.  You think you can manage your Hot Cycle?"

"Yeah," he said as he picked up his "beep beeps" and I put them in my pocket.

Olaia was excited.  She hadn’t tried to ride her bike for a couple of months now.  Between the afternoon rains and the scorching summer sun we just hadn’t gotten the bike out to ride.  Actually, since I had been steadying and running behind her, it was quite a workout and since I am drenched in sweat within seconds, I’d been lazy.  "Olaia, it’s too hot today, we’ll bring your bike next time.  Olaia, it’s too wet today.  We’ll bring your bike next time."  Well, a month or two had passed and I was starting to feel more than guilty for not biting the bullet.

Today, though, the conditions were just perfect.  The day was overcast and gray.  It had rained throughout the morning and into the early afternoon, just late enough to stave off the heat, and short enough that by 6 pm it was dry. 

I was still going to get drenched from the exertion though, but I was ready.  Olaia pushed her bike the long way around the park to avoid the stairs leading to the grassy field.  Jaimito followed her and quickly took to a sprint.  He looked like he was skipping on air as he flew around the park at a breakneck pace.  I winced as I imagined him tripping and landing on the jagged asphalt.  But he made it.  I’d never seen that little boy run so fast.  He jogged up to me.

"You were fast little man!  You ran so faaaast!"

"I was fast, huh?  I’m faster."  And took off again to show me it wasn’t a fluke.

Olaia approached pushing her bike. "Daddy, I’m gonna do it today.  You watch."  She took her bike to a corner of the grassy park and labored trying to get her pedals in the right position to start off.  After five minutes of watching her struggle, I offered a suggestion.  "Why don’t you start up the hill just a little bit.  Just a little bit so it’s easier, but not so high that it’s scary or anything."

"Okay, Daddy."  I helped her up onto the bike, adjusted her pedals, and gave her a little push and let go.  Laura had told me that she’d practiced falling the last time in the park, so I hoped that at least she’d go a few feet and jump off.  But as any father, I let go with a little trepidation.  Oh, my poor baby.  I hope she doesn’t crash.

Olaia, went three feet, then six, then twenty, then fifty, and onward all the way across the park, where she gracefully dismounted as she ran out of steam.  I could hardly contain myself.  "Olaia! You rode your bike!  Oh my, that was awesome.  How did you-  how did you learn-  wow!"  And I applauded her.  She beamed her bashful smile, pleased but a little surprised herself.

Now she was determined.  The next pass she hopped up on her bike and pushed off with no intervention.  She looked like a pro, like she’d been doing it since forever.  Again and again and again, she made her way across the park on her bike, beaming and proud and as happy as could be.

She would have gone all night, if I hadn’t drawn it to a close.  Her little face was beet red by this point, her sweaty hair matted down by her helmet and sticking to her face. 

"Okay, Daddy," she said, if you insist.  Such determination in that little girl. 

And in France today, Lance Armstrong launched his bid for a seventh straight victory in the Tour de France with a powerful performance in the opening time trial.

Look out, Lance, Olaia’s coming for you!

Normally I wouldn’t even think of posting such mundane drivel (but just what have you been doing anyway, James, hmmm?).  Okay, guilty as charged.  So here it is. 

I’m gonna disconnect for a couple of days, go to the beach and hike in the rain forest, El Yunque.  We all need a break, and this is the agenda that Cruise Director Laura came up with.  Sun Block? Check.  Swim trunks? Check.  Kids?  Check.  And off we go.

Today Jessie decided to roll around in the chalk drawings the kids were making on our back patio.  It was blue, very blue, and Jessie decided she would look fetching in blue.  I didn’t get a picture in time, but it was hilarious, our little warrior dog with a blue head and shoulders, ready to charge into battle sounding her fury at the occupying forces.

"Who… me?"  She seemed to ask.  "I just had an itch."

"Daddy?"

"Yes Jaimito?"

"’member in da Spider-Man?  When Mary Jane was kissing Spider-Man dat was really Peter Parker?"  He asked carefully, measuring his words.

"Yeah, Mary Jane kissed Spider-Man.  That was funny, huh?"

"Yeah, it was yucky."

"Why was it yucky, Jaimito?"

He explained.  "’cause it was rainin’."  And he turned up his palms in a isn’t-it-obvious-to-you shrug, then he asked, "Daddy, why did Mary Jane kiss Spider-Man?"

"Hmm," Oh please dear God, why must it start so early.  I thought quickly. "Jaimito, she kissed him because she liked him.  People kiss each other when they like each other."

"On, da lips?" he asked incredulously.

"On the lips, yes Jaimito."

"Why?"

"Because they like each other."  Okay, who’s going to back down first, I can go circular logic on your butt all day, little man.  But I guess that satisfied him sufficiently.  "You know what, Jaimito.  When mommy comes home, I’m going to give her a big kiss on the lips."

"Like when you got married?"

"Yes, like when we got married."