On Star Wars And Legos

Anyone who has ever taken a child shopping knows how impossible it is to make it out of the store without making some kind of "token" purchase. I usually try to get away with giving a quarter for the gum-ball machine, but I'm not always so lucky. Such was the case last Friday when I took my six year old to the drug store, and Scottie set his sights on a little Star Wars ship made out of Legos. It was the big diamond shaped Star Destroyer that you see chasing a rebel ship in the opening scene of the first Star Wars movie. It's funny because he was in perfect health when we went into the store, but he assured me that he would absolutely DIE if he did not get this toy. Since it was a life and death situation, I paid the six dollars to keep my son alive. I'll bill him for it when he's eighteen.

As soon as we walked in the door at home I heard "Dad can you help me put it together?" I gently suggested that he do as much as possible on his own. He didn't get very far without my help, but I didn't let him know that. I try to practice the tactful use of praise and coaching without sounding critical. We spent the next thirty minutes piecing it together on the living room floor. I have never felt a joy greater that seeing the light of discovery that went off in his eyes when I introduced him to the concept of symmetry by showing him how the two halves of the diamond are mirror images. Those are thirty minutes that I will never forget.

For the next two days Scottie would not let that little space ship leave his sight. When he fell asleep he would still be holding it in his hand, and when he opened his eyes in the morning the first thing he would say is "Where's my ship"? It's amazing the kind of joy you can bring to a child with just a few dollars. For those same two days he was fascinated by everything Star Wars, just like I was when I was a kid, although I was a few years older when the Star Wars phenomenon hit. I spent the entire weekend fielding relentless questions about Jabba the Hut and Han Solo and how important they were to me in my childhood. Truth be told, the first three movies never had anything that could even remotely compare to Darth Maul or pod racing, and the kinds of toys available now would have sent me into shock as a kid, but for the weekend I was the Star Wars guru and he was my padawan.

The best part of the weekend was showing him my old Star Wars toys. I have to thank my mother for the fact that they even still exist. She surprised me about a year ago by sending them unannounced to me in the mail. I had no idea that she still had them. It was quite an experience to see those toys that I had grown up with twenty five years earlier. For Scottie it was like finding buried pirates' treasure, and it unleashed a whole new torrent of questions.

I need to digress a bit here.

I have to give credit where credit is due. It was my ex-wife's idea to name Scottie after me. We christened him Bryan Scott Hardie, Jr. to honor my parents. It was also her idea to call him Scottie because that is what my parents called me as a child. (It was only later in my life that I decided to go by Bryan).

So together we brought the only successor of the Hardie name into the world. I wish I would have been into blogging during the early years of his infancy, but I guess I just missed the boat. That, and I just can't see myself spending hours typing away on the computer when I had a wife and children to attend to. That was back when I still had a family that loved me. It's surprising how much things can change in just a few years.

I've always heard people say that in a house fire the first and probably only thing they grab is the family pictures. I wonder if that is changing with the digital revolution. In a fire, does a twenty first century blogger grab his laptop and digital camera? Are our most precious memories being stored in hard drives and CD's instead of on cracked and yellowed Kodak paper and in boxes full of slides?

Sometimes it seems like those memories are all I have.

So it was a Star Wars weekend, and I spent uncounted hours of my adult time playing with a little Lego space ship. Last night, after he fell asleep on the couch and as I carried him to bed, Scottie woke briefly to mumble something and to check that the ship was still close, only to find that he already had it clutched in his hands. Then he was fast asleep in my arms.

Now it's Monday morning and I'm just back from dropping him off at school. I'm sipping coffee at the computer and trying desperately to jot down notes about every detail of the weekend I before I forget. Weekends may not be much, but weekends mean so much to me, and I am so very thankful to have them.

For The Love Of A Tiger

My little boy is growing up. Scottie told me this weekend that he has a crush on a little girl at his school. I'm not ready for that, darn it! He's only seven! He said that she asked him to be her boyfriend on the playground but he didn't answer her because his little friends were there. I guess that's a small reprieve for me. He also said that he got into a fight on the playground and won. The teachers didn't find out.

I guess I can't keep him young forever. I did get a pleasant reminder of his innocence last night. Around 8:30 he got tired and decided to lie in bed to wind down. He asked me for his teddy bear tiger he calls "Spikey." About four years ago we were at the drug store when he spied it, and he wrapped his little arms around it in a bear hug and refused to part with it. I gave in and bought it for him, and that little terry cloth tiger became one of the most loved toys of his childhood.

While he was lying in bed with last night with his eyes fluttering, he drifted into a little fugue, and for a short time he had the innocence of a toddler again. He was concerned about the fact he hadn't played with Spikey in a long time, and he asked if Spikey still loved him. I told him that yes, of course Spikey still loves him. "But how can he love me? He's just a bunch of cotton and fur?" Scottie wondered. I told him that Spikey would never stop loving him. I told him that it was just like in Toy Story, and that his toys didn't start moving and talking until he was asleep. I reminded him of the cowgirl toy whose little girl owner grew up and stopped playing with her, but the cowgirl never ever stopped loving the little girl. I assured Scottie that Spikey would never stop loving him.

Scottie asked me what kind of toys I had when I was a kid. I stroked his hair and told him all about my GI Joe's, Star Wars action figures, my Etch a Sketch and Stretch Armstrong. I told him of Evel Knievel and Weebles and Hot Wheels in the sandbox.

And then he was asleep.

It's a Scottie Montage!

Click here for a photo slideshow of various pictures of Scottie with a musical background.




P.S. This is a 5.0 MB file. Don't try it over dialup.
P.P.S. I created this with Microsoft Photo Story 3 (free), I downloaded the music from Amazon (for free) and it's hosted on Vimeo.com (also free)! I love being a cheapskate.
P.P.P.S. I'm looking for another host that will show it fullscreen. If you want a copy of the file let me know.

Learning To Ride

I got Scottie a bike for his seventh birthday this year. It's like pulling teeth trying to get him to do anything besides play video games or watching cartoons, but I am determined to get him to learn how to ride this year. At the same time I'm a little apprehensive because I see that milestone as one of the hallmark signs that he's grown from being a "little kid" to being a "big kid." I can visualize myself running along behind him, holding his bike seat and pushing him off. He rides away down the sidewalk, riding off into the rest of his life, leaving me behind. This is the bittersweet price every parent pays for the joys of raising a child. I love to watch him learning and growing but at the same time I don't want it to happen.

It still seems like just yesterday when he was two and riding his little plastic Big Wheel. His legs were too short to reach the pedals so he kicked himself along Flinstones style. He loved that little trike.

At four I tried to teach him to ride but he just wasn't ready yet. Some of his little friends could ride bikes, but I guess some kids just develop faster in that area than others. Besides, he was in love with his electric motorcycle.


Scottie doesn't want to learn how to ride a bike, but I know that once he does he will fall in love with it. And I know that a big part of his childhood will be gone forever.

I read a quote recently that sums it up:

“As difficult as it may be, our primary job as parents is to teach ourchildren how to leave us."

Dr. Jill Murray

Fireflies

My infant son was dying in my arms, dying at four months old, and I couldn't do anything to help him. He had been diagnosed that morning with RSV virus and sent home with a few medications and watchful parents. Now at 9:00 PM he was sitting on my lap and going into respiratory arrest. He stopped breathing, became unresponsive, and then the color just drained out of him. He turned white as a sheet. He went limp.

Chaos.

Five older brothers and sisters and a frantic mother could do nothing except panic, and I wasn't far from it. But his time was not up yet, and a 911 dispatcher's calm and quick suggestions earned her a ticket into heaven that night. Thank you wherever you are.

Later, in the emergency room of Sharps Grossmont hospital in San Diego his breathing stopped again. All eighteen nurses on duty in the ER came to help, and when they asked for authorization for a lumbar puncture, or spinal tap, and forced us out of the room, I experienced tunnel vision for the first, and last time in my life. I guess if my little boy couldn't breathe my body didn't want to breathe either. Without oxygen, my vision shrunk to a tiny fisheye lens on a field of black, sounds became echoey, and I fainted. Needless to say, I survived, and so did Scottie, but it did nothing to lessen the fear that wracked my body for the rest of the night. A transfer by ambulance to Children's Hospital. A 4:00 AM check-in to intensive care. Baby still barely breathing. Waiting. Wondering. IV's and epinephrine, pulse and blood oxygen monitors, tubes in the nose. He didn't even cry when they stuck him with the needles.

There are times in your life when the fog rolls in, and you are alone with the crashing of the waves. You know the waves are there but not how far, and you wonder if the tide will come in and sweep you away in the night. For a while you are lost in the fog, but then the morning comes and the sun burns it all away. That sleepless night we were lost, my son, (now ex) wife and I. The respiratory therapist finally arrived about 5:45 AM to administer a breathing treatment, an atomized mixture of anti-inflammatories. Its little white fog crept out of the nebulizer's tube and bathed Scottie's face, wisps of it gently sneaking into his tiny nose and mouth, and with each labored breath the wisps became a little bigger. Heart rate increased, breathing got stronger, and blood oxygen shot from 64% to 97%. Just as the sun was returning to burn away the coastal fog outside, our son was returning to us. We propped him up a little, and for the first time in what seemed like days, he looked at me with recognition in his infant eyes, and he smiled. I knew he was going to make it.

There are times in life when the fog rolls in, and there are times when the fog breaks. There are times when everything turns around. Sometimes for better, sometimes for worse, but make no mistake, things will turn. Physicists use the term "moments of inertia," to describe nonphysical points around which physical bodies rotate. Invisible internal spheres or axis, with no differentiation, no demarcation from their surrounding mass. Yet they are the centers that guide the parent bodies. There are moments in life around which lives revolve, moments when everything turns around. There are moments of fear. And there are moments of solace.

When I moved from Texas to California, I left my family behind to build a new family, and I became so wrapped up in my own successes and struggles that I lost touch with them. I heard nothing about the trials of life they were going through themselves. It's funny how ill wills linger on and are forgotten, how old transgressions are lost and new ones are born. I don't know if you believe in fate or chance or destiny, or if you prescribe to divine will or blind luck. But I can tell you that no matter what you read or hear, bad things DO happen to good people, and most times there is no silver lining. Why do people try to talk you out of feeling sadness when you've suffered a loss?

There are times in life when everything falls apart, but it's funny how the pieces always come together to form something new. Not necessarily better, but different. As for people, people CAN change, and people do, whether they mean to or not. One family shatters and two more are born. Building blocks are stacked and knocked down again, and from them the wonder of life's mystery emerges. The births and birthdays, the ilnesses and the deaths, the fireflies never caught and the children's lost teeth left under pillows, these are the moments that change us. These are our moments of inertia. And it is what we do with them that redeems us or tears us down.

On the day of my father's funeral I finally made amends with my little sister. It had been a feud of fifteen years or more which had mostly been forgotten halfway through, but its effects carried more out of an embarrassment to apologize than out of any form of malice. Lives were spent apart, and now that we were speaking again, it seemed like all we had to talk about was our individual misfortunes, our war stories. I felt guilty about all my fretting over my divorce and its repercussions when I found out about her brain tumor. No words or tears can ever express how sorry I am for all the things I did, or didn't do. I can't ask for forgiveness, but I thank God for that moment of redemption.

There are moments in everyone's life that can never be forgotten. Where were you when you learned Kennedy had been shot? Or Lennon? When you saw the World Trade Center coming down? Will you ever forget receiving a folded flag and the thanks of a nation? Will you ever forget the last time you heard your mother's voice after she's gone? Or will you ever forget the first time you heard your child's? For me that tiny little cry in the delivery room heralded the beginning of two lifes, the baby's and mine? There are moments spectacular in silence, moments when all the clocks stop ticking, moments when the vast mechanisms of the cosmos revolve around you. I remember holding a brand new little life cradled in my arms. I remember watching two little eyes opening up to the brightness of a new world. And I remember seeing recognition (albiet I must have been nothing but a blure to him), and love in those eyes. It was a moment that could stop wars, a moment when I got a glimpse behind the looking glass, and a peek into the place where rainbows and dreams are born. And it was the one singular moment in my life when I had the answer to that question "Why am I here?"

My father's wake was held in the same chapel in Fort Worth that he had been re-married in, but this time it looked much smaller. Time to say goodbye. The bagpiper had slipped in the back door, and when his music swelled it took me by surprise. The bagpipes are loud, very loud, and in the chapel every note of "Amazing Grace" stunned me like a twenty one gun salute. Goodbye, Dad.

There are moments when you have to say goodbye.

For the first time ever, our car, actually our SUV, stuffed with two adults and six kids, was silent. They had learned earlier that day of their grandfather's death and we were en route to drop them off for the funeral. The stadium the Padres called home sits at the corner of highways 8 and 15 in San Diego. As we merged onto 15 north we came into view of the stadium, and that night they had four spotlights pointed straight up into the night sky, like the Luxor times four. Brilliant blue fireworks were erupting, pierced by the skyward beams. It was a beautiful sight, and at that moment, Lauren, the youngest girl, curled up in her mother's lap, began to weep softly, the first time since she learned the news.

Moments of sadness and wonder.

I remember a more normal outing in that SUV, packed with six children, one of which was not yet born. We were on our way to the pediatrician for a sonogram of our upcoming brother and son. I remember seeing a tiny little head and belly emerge from the darkness, then a hand came up. Jointed little skeleton fingers, nothing more than a wisp and a whisper of new life. Slowly it rotated back and forth, as if somehow he was marvelling at the miracle of his hand just like I was. Then slowly one finger after another curled up into a little fist, and splayed back out again and gave a little wave. I could have sworn he was trying to say "Hello, Dad."

I know some day it will be his turn to say goodbye to me, but I'm hoping to spend many happy moments with him before that day comes.

Beach Pics

Click Here for the whole set.

Father's Day 2005

Yesterday was Father's Day. Scottie wanted to get me a present, and he already had it picked out. The only problem was that a six year old normally does not have a means of transportation nor money to buy with. So he asked me to take him to the store to get a present. I gave him a couple of dollars and went wandering around while he purchased my surprise. It was a little heart shaped glass paperweight with a picture of a teddy bear, and it said "I Love You." Later we went to the beach. On the way there Scottie said "Hey Dad, did you know that I smelled something with my ears once?" I tried not to laugh. He went on to say "Yeah, when you smell with your ears, they flap like this," and he put his hands behind his ears and made then flap like little wings.

He really loves the beach. It's so wonderful to see his little face all lit up, with a grin from ear to ear (with his two front teeth still missing and two silver capped "fangs"). He has so much energy! I remember one time when an incoming wave literally knocked him off his feet, rolling him onto the beach. When he stood up he had little pieces of sand scattered in his hair, and little pieces of sea weed all over his body! It's not at all uncommon for me to empty handfuls of sand from his bathing suit pockets at the end of the day.

With all the hectic activities of the day we somehow missed lunch, but we snacked on chips and ice cream on the board walk. After a long day of beach activities we were famished, so we decided to stop at Denny's. Scottie wasn't too impressed by the kid's menu, and when he saw me eyeing the T-bone steak, he jabbed down a finger and said "What the heck is that?" "A steak" I replied. And Scottie proclaimed "That's what I want!" I figured if he wanted to be a "real man" he'd need to start eating steak! So Scottie got his first steak dinner and I ate biscuits and gravy, and it was the best Father's Day meal I ever had. I'll never forget watching that hungry little guy scarf down steak and eggs with his two front teeth missing. While we were waiting for our food we played with a silly little hippo mask and finger puppet the restaurant provided. He looked so cute, so bright eyed and smiley with that goofy mask pushed up on top of his head.

It's about an hour drive from the beach, and with Scottie's big day, he passed out pretty quickly. I carried him up to bed and took his little shoes off. After I was done with my end of day fretting around I crawled into bed with him. He instinctively curled up next to me, using me like an oversized pillow, like has done ever since he was tiny. I'll miss that when he gets bigger and decides he's too old to sleep with Dad, but for now, I'm happy. The best Father's Day presents don't come from a store.

When I Grow Up

I made another visit to my son's 1st grade classroom recently and I got a pleasant surprise. There was a wall covered with pictures the children had done about "What I Want To Be When I Grow Up..." I don't remember if I've mentioned this before but I work in Information Technology for the local community college. Scotties creation read "When I grow up I want to be a computer technician. I want ot be a computer technician because I get paid. I like to work on computers. Computers are cool." Several of the spellings were quite different as you can imagine. He had a very artistic illustration of me at work that just made my heart swell. Scottie means so much to me and I am so proud of him, and it makes me feel good to know that he is proud of me too. I don't remember all that much from my own childhood, but I hope that I never disappointed my father. He's not with us anymore so it's too late to try to patch things up if I did. What do I remember? Well I remember that he worked as a carpenter sometimes. At one time he was doing roofing and he bought one of those mobile tar pits that you tow around behind a pickup truck. I remember one day we heard an explosion and my mom ran out to see what happened. When she came back in with my dad he said that he had turned the temperature up and forgot to open the lid, and BOOM! He was covered with spots of tar, and his eyebrows had been burned off! After my parents split I didn't see him much, so I never really knew what he did for a living. I feel bad now that we lost touch. I guess everybody would do some things differently if they could go back in time. Anyway, it really made me feel good to know that Scottie wants to be like me. I've tried to hard to remain close to him throughout his early years because I know that every day he gets a little older and a little more grown up and someday his childhood will be just a memory. I just want him to grow up happy, and do whatever he wants, as long as it's not roofing that is.

For a full size view of Scottie's creation click here.

Mini-Me

A Childs Question

Yesterday Scottie asked me "If you go to sleep, does your tongue go to sleep too?"

I love being a parent.

Happy Birthday Scottie!

Dear Scottie,
You turned seven years old today. Happy Birfday! And guess what we found growing in your mouth: two new front teef! After all these years I was beginning to worry that they would never show up. But at the same time, I think I'm going to miss your toothless little smile.


Happy birthday son. My little man is growing up.
P.S. - His hair is normally blonde. He had it dyed when this pic was snapped.

Chinese Mysticism and the Six Year Old

My son is at that point in his young life when he is fascinated by things like tigers, dragons and robot cyber-ninjas. Heck, I'm still into those things too! Anyway, Scottie loves egg flower soup, which he calls "Our Special Soup," so we try to go out for Chinese food whenever possible. The restaurant we chose tonight had those little paper placemats with the Chinese zodiac on the table from which we learned that Scottie was lucky to be born in the year of the Tiger, while I was stuck with the year of the Sheep. He had a great time with that and I feigned some tongue in cheek jealousy.

After studying the zodiac animals intently, Scottie looked to me and asked me a very solemn question: "If a hundred dragons fought a thousand tigers, who would win?" He's also at that point in his life when he's learning his numbers above ten. One of his more frequent questions when we are out on our forays is "How much money do you have?" It's hard to explain the difference between "I have" and "I can afford" to a six year old, in case you haven't tried. While he may not be an expert when it comes to family budgets, he's THE expert when it comes to the strengths and weaknesses of fighting tigers and flying dragons.

So we had a pleasant dinner discussing the fine points of dragon versus tiger battles over a big shared bowl of egg flower soup. I wonder how many ancient evenings Chinese philosophers spent pondering that same subject in the years of distant past? I wonder if that magical soup might have even played a part in the creation of their brilliant zodiac? I'll probably never know, and I like it that way. Some mysteries should remain unsolved, and the mystery of a hundred dragons fighting a thousand tigers is one of them.

Scottie's fortune cookie read "Your dynamic personality is fueled by your fascination with life."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Christmas pictures Click here


Pictures of my kid Click here

Dear Son,

Since your seventh birthday is coming up I thought it might be prudent for me to write down some memories about the “State of Scottie” at the age of six. The prudence is in anticipation of my failing memory, and just in case you ever get curious in your adult years.

Your favorite drink is root beer. You love to play ninja and do karate on me. You had a dream that you were Scooby Doo and I was Shaggy, and another that we were on Captain Crunch's ship. You can hold entire conversations while standing on your head or doing flips or jumping over the back of the couch and crawling out from under it, and when I ask you what you are doing you look at me as if I'm crazy. You are as rowdy as a litter of puppies and just as loveable.

You started a new first grade class this week. I went to meet your teacher yesterday morning and ended up being "volunteered" to help out with P.E. class. Suprisingly, tending to forty rambunctious children at once was easier than I thought. I guess if I can handle wrangling you on a daily basis, "normal" kids are a breeze.

At first I had been hesitant to offer my help, but you did something that I will never ever forget. I don't remember much from my childhood, but one thing I do recall is being embarrassed of my parents. I suppose most children are that way. But several times while you were playing you stopped to point me out to a comrade and say "That's my dad." Thank you for that Scottie. Thank you.

You still haven't got your two front teeth in yet since they were pulled by the dentist almost four years ago. That's okay with you though. You still enjoy your silver capped "vampire fangs". You’ve had quite a run of it with your life so far. You've been hospitalized three times:, at four months for a lung infection, at ten months for an infected lymph node, and four years for meningitis. You probably remember that last one. You've had two spinal taps, and you've been under general anesthetic three times. When you had to get stitches in your upper lip for a dog bite last December it took six adults and a straight jacket just to get you “drugged.” Later that day I carried you out to the car with your head on my shoulder.

Your Spiderman penny bank is nearly full from all the profiteering you have been doing. Taking out the trash is big business when you charge me two dollars each time, and you have been threatening to go up to three! You challenged me to a drinking contest recently, to see who could drink a whole can of root beer the fastest. I let you win. You also won the burping contest that followed, but you won that out of sheer talent. Four bucks earned, fair and square. You chipped a little hole in Spiderman's head so you can peek in every few days and see how your "nest egg" is coming along.

Scottie, I don't know that you'll ever understand just what you mean to me, or what you have unknowingly done for me, but I hope someday you will. The last five years of my life have been my darkest ever. I've been witness to the evil that people can do, and will do, without deliberation or cause.

Many men would have given up and moved away long ago, but I vowed that I was not going to lose my little boy, especially not after losing everything else in my life. If I end up homeless and living on the streets it's okay with me as long as I am close to you. Some of the things I’ve learned in the last few years? I learned that people, strangers and loved ones alike, will not hesitate to bring hardship and loss to your life out of sheer malice. I also learned that from the darkest depths come the brightest lights. You have been my guiding light.

We spend countless hours building Lego castles and having toy dragons attack them. We play kick ball outside our one room apartment even though the balls keep falling victim to the thorny rose bushes. I'll keep buying them for you as long as you ask for them. It's money well spent. Other adults look at me funny when they see us having a mock shootout with toy pistols, but I don't care. I cherish every moment we have together because I know soon you'll be too old to stay home playing little kid games with Dad.

I wish I could stop time and keep you just the way you are forever.

We put your lost teeth under your pillow, and we put milk and cookies out for Santa. You tell me that I should pray sometimes.

You asked me if ninjas can really fly.

Yes, Scottie. We can fly.

Toddlerisms

Hard as I try I cannot keep Scottie small. He's six and a half now, and he's lost just about all of his toddler charms. He finally learned how to say "forehead" and not "fork head" and "feet" instead of "foots". You may blow your nose at those things but to me they are important. I'll never hear him say those words again. You know it's amazing how much the little things mean to me now that they're gone forever. What I wouldn't give to go have the days of his early youth again.

He does have a few bits of wisdom left, like the way he still says "dark time" instead of "night." And when he gets a blister from his little tennis shoes, he calls it a "blistard." When he sees a Peanuts cartoon he calls it "Snoofy." You know, I guess he's not that grown up after all...

He lost his first tooth recently, and I did the whole Tooth Fariy thing. Yes, he still believes in her, as well as Santa and the Easter Bunny, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I possibly can. He still believes in dragons, and wants to be a Jedi when he grows up. I hope that day never comes.

If I could give you some advice, it would be this: Love your child. Love him like you're drowning and he's the air that will keep you alive. Let her sleep in your bed whenever she wants. Hug him daily,and don't ever, EVER let him forget how much you love him, not even for a second. Burn every tiny little thing she does into your memory. Write it down. Take pictures or make movies. Do whatever it takes because their childhood is the greatest thing you will ever be a part of in your life, and once it's gone your memories are all you have left. If you're anything like me, your memory ain't foolproof.

A Childs Game

Scottie said to me the other day "Let's punch each other in the stomach and see who can hit the hardest." I have a feeling he'd win.

Scottie Caught In Action!

About a Blimp

Scottie and I went to the beach yesterday. It's about an hour's drive from home, and on the way we saw the Goodyear blimp a couple of times. I pointed it out to Scottie and he asked me what it said on the side. I said "Goodyear." He then asked if they were dropping tires on people. I had to choke back a laugh as I answered "yes, probably." Now that I think about it, I wonder how he knew that Goodyear makes tires? Anyway, the rest of our drive was filled by questions about how much gas it can carry, how high it can fly, if the people can breath up there, if people live on the blimp, etc.

After we were at the beach a couple of hours we saw the blimp again. He asked if it was following us. Well, I cannot tell a lie, so I said "maybe," but I promised him I would keep my eyes open in case they tried to sneak up on us. I'd hate to get a tire dropped on my head.

Watching Scottie Grow

There he sits with a pen and a yellow pad
What a handsome lad
That's my boy
BRLFQ spells mom and dad
But that ain't too bad
That's my boy
You can have your TV and you nightclubs
And you can have your drive in picture show
I'll stay here with my little man near
We'll listen to the radio
Biding my time and
Watching Scotty grow
Making a castle out of building blocks
And a cardboard box
That's my boy
Mickey Mouse says it's thirteen o'clock
Well that's quite a shock!
That's my boy
In four short years
I've gone from rags to riches
And what I did before that I don't know
So let it rain on my windowpane
I got my own rainbow
And we're sitting here shining
Watching Scotty grow
Riding on daddy's shoulders off to bed
Old sleepy head
That's my boy
Got to have a drink of water and a story read
A teddy bear named Fred
That's my boy
What's that you say momma
Come on and keep you feet warm
Well save me a place
I'll be there in a minute or so
I'll think I'll stay right here and
Say a little prayer before I go
Me and God
Watching Scotty grow
Me and God
Watching Scotty grow...

===

Last Christmas one of my older sisters downloaded this song for me. My parents used to listen to it because they called me Scotty. Now when I read these lyrics they sound so much like my own life, watching my little Scottie grow.

Beach Photos

Click Here for the whole set.



I found these old pictures from summer 2000 at Mission Bay in San Diego. You were two years old. You still talk about that blue boat sometimes, and you remember trying to ride in it. I'm sure these memories will fade for you as you get older, but I'll try to help us hold onto them.

I'm So Tough

I'm so kick ass I almost can't believe it. Seriously, I'm like a combination of Blade and Darth Maul and Mr. T.

Yeah. I'm like that.

Sometimes I just stand around being all ripped and smoldering with my teeth clenched and my nostrils flaring. When my friends walk in they're like "Dude you're so ripped and so smoldering!" And I kinda swivel my squinty eyes over at 'em without moving my head and I'm like "You forgot to knock." Then BAM! I snatch some guy's throat out.

I gots mad skillz nigga! Dat's what I'm talkin' bout.

The other day I was going to the grocery store and there was this fat little girl scout outside bitchin' about some cookies or some crap so I gave her a running side kick straight to the throat. Sent her fat ass flying into a big stack of 7-Up boxes. It was bitchin'

This is my self portrait.

Looks just like me don't it? Word.

I have a signature move called the Flying Bitchslap (patent pending) that's totally cool. Here are some facts about the Flying Bitchslap (patent pending):

1. It hurts like a mofo
2. It makes you crap your pants
3. It's totally cool
4. I gave one to vice president Dick Cheney once