72% Cuter, Guaranteed!

I hope Pea doesn't let her cuteness go to her head (like her Dad has).

And trust me, she's cute. Granted, this is a father's opinion, but I can prove that she is, at least, 72% cuter than any kid I have ever seen before in my life.

Here's some proof... again, from her father's opinion:

• She has a dimple. It is on her left cheek, and it rocks.
• When I say, "Can I have some?", she proceeds to shove whatever it is she is eating into my mouth. That's off the scales cute.
• She crawls at a torrid pace towards our front door when I arrive home.
• When I say 'beso', which is Spanish for 'kiss', she lays a sloppy wet one on my cheek. She also does this routinely to Brobee, Mono and Glo Worm, three of her favourite toys.
• She looks a lot like the Pod.
• When I am putting her to sleep, she mumbles along when I am humming her a song. It melts my heart.
• She is great with other kids her age. She plays along with them and is mesmerized by the special things they do... in fact, she usually starts doing something new a day or two after she spends some quality time with other kids.
• And so on, and so forth.

Now, if you are a parent, I am sure you are convinced your child is 72% cuter than all other children. It is your right to think so, and I accept that you think so, but the fact remains that you are wrong. However cute you think your kid is, mine is easily 18% cuter, but on average, 72% cuter.

That said, I'd love to hear how your kid/cousin/nephew/niece/ neighbour is cute as well... because the world always has room for more cute! So post a comment and let us all know what you think makes a kid cute!

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't let her cuteness go to her head (like her Dad has).

PS - All joking aside, our kids are equally cute.

From Tehran to Ottawa

I hope Pea doesn't neglect her civic responsibilities.

The mess we are currently seeing in Iran has me reflecting on the importance of democracy - true, transparent democracy - and the hope for a bright and free future for my daughter.

It occurs to me that while we may feel democracy is a right in this country, a little over 9 years ago most Americans likely felt the exact same way. 'Rigged elections are something you only see in the movies and in third world countries', they might have said, in their own American twang. Well, tell Al Gore that elections can't be stolen in the industrialized west.

And now, seeing hundreds upon hundreds of Iranian citizens taking to the streets in protest of what they feel is not the true outcome of their election naturally leads me to wonder what lies in store for Pea.

Will she have to endure questionable results in a Canadian struggle for power? If so, will she march on the streets of Ottawa in defense of her rights?

I certainly hope neither of these two situations come to fruition. But if they do, I hope my Pea will speak up if she feels she has been cheated. After all, her right to protest is as much a centrepiece of democracy as her right to vote.

But most of all, I hope she votes in the first place. This is a right her great grandfather fought for and risked his life to protect. Voting is the least we can offer him, and his counterparts, in return.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't neglect her civic responsibilities.

The pity of an unstocked freezer

I hope Pea doesn't fail to see the importance of Popsicle Pete.

I realized today, Father's Day, that while I am doing my best to be a good Dad, I need to get my ass in gear when it comes to being a husband.

Among many other luxuries today, I got to sleep in until 9:30am while Pea and the Pod awoke at 7:30am. I cannot recall the last time I was afforded the chance to sleep so late. Coming from a guy who, a little over a year ago would consider a good lie-in to be a 1:00pm wake up time, 9:30am was heaven sent and amazing.

My dreams during my 2-hour solo sleep included rainbows and lollipops, puppy dogs and Stella Artois', the Toronto Maple Leafs folding up shop forever and winning a brand new car. It was a good sleep.

After waking up, I was presented with my wonderful Father's Day gifts... a gift card to buy a pair of pants and two fully-functional watches (from my existing collection) with fresh batteries. I also received a wonderfully sentimental card that included words like "amazing dad" and "super sexy husband with the best set of pectoral muscles I have ever seen and the calf muscles of a Greek God".

Ok, that last bit may have been embellished a little bit, but you get the point.

I was then whisked away to the Pod-in-laws for a stellar roast beef dinner and returned home to indulge in not one but two Popsicle Pete popsicles - one cherry and one grape.

Looking back on this great day, I'm hard pressed to think of anything but my failings as a husband to the Pod.

Sure, I let her sleep in on Mother's Day, gave her a card that Pea and I made from scratch and tried as much as possible to take the baby-rearing load off her shoulders for but one day. But did she get to have two Popsicle Pete popsicles in one sitting? No. We didn't even have Popsicle Pete popsicles in the freezer on Mothers Day.

What kind of husband does that make me? I don't even want to think about it.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't fail to see the importance of Popsicle Pete.

Up your nose with a rubber hose, Facebook!

I hope Pea doesn't let Facebook fill her with jealousy.

A question for all you new and relatively new parents out there: is it just me, or does Facebook sometimes appear to be a tool, developed by the baby-less bourgeoisie, to remind us baby-raising proletariat of all the fun, mischief and debauchery that we left behind to happily raise our families?

Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of Facebook.  I check it every day and love that I can keep in touch with friends from the past and family I can't actually recall ever meeting. I never check my real email account anymore and I'm constantly engaged in a friendly game of Scrabble.   

But earlier tonight, as I browsed the photos of a friend who is visiting several European oasis's (is that the plural of oasis?), something terrible occurred to me - I haven't travelled for my own personal pleasure in quite some time.  

Then I browsed the profile of our bestest friend, who invites us every year to her cottage for an amazing weekend of swimming, sun, moderate alcohol consumption and board games.  We couldn't go last year and the timing didn't work out for things this year.   

Then I saw a weird add for people with foot fetishes.  Irrelevant.

Then I saw a status update for a friend who is attending a concert I would have liked to go to, and I tried to remember the last concert I attended.  I drew a blank.  

Then I wept.

Indeed, the parents out there will know two things:  

1. Employment Insurance doesn't make you feel insured against anything.
2. Becoming a parent turns your whole life on its ear.

And so, with less money and a completely new reality, the Pod and I are trying hard to maintain some semblance of what we were before Pea arrived.  

We still hang out with friends in the evenings, albeit far less frequently.  We still hit the local amusement park, albeit with a stroller and fewer big people rides.  And we still bang out a "dinner and the movies evening" from time to time, although we usually eat at Subway and we rarely know what we want to see without having to look up the latest releases on the internet.  

So, a note to you, baby-less bourgeoisie: you can have your Caribbean getaways, vodka-soaked patio evenings and Tuesday cheap nights at the movies!  Who cares if I don't get to travel as much as I used to... every day is a trip with Pea!  The cottage will be more fun when we next experience it through her eyes and I hear Raffi is AMAZING live!  (Foot fetishes are still irrelevant.) 

In the end, I'm just fine with Pea, the Pod and a walk around the block.  

I may now know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't let Facebook fill her with jealousy.

And you thought the lottery was random...

I hope Pea never loses her joie de vivre.

Ricochay here, coming to you live and direct from Montreal, Québec, Canada. For those of you that don't know me, of which I doubt there are any, my being in Montreal also means that I am not at home. Business has brought me to one of Canada's greatest cities for an over-nighter, which is also the first night I find myself away from Pea, the Pod and all the creature comforts of home (namely, my own bed).

Thankfully, there are reinforcements at home with Pea and the Pod. But quite frankly, being away from home sucks. I was thankfully able to take my mind off being away from my family by visiting with some friends who live in the city. Despite their great company, I missed being a part of Pea's nighttime routine terribly. Now that I am solo, back in my room, I find myself using my imagination to be with them...

Hey! Guess what Pea did recently? Go ahead, guess. C'mon, take a stab in the dark. Guess anything. Jesus, c'mon, one guess. Why won't you play along? You never play along. What is wrong with you? We're just having some fun here! Dammit, take a guess! WHY ARE YOU SO DIFFICULT?

...

...

There, was that so hard? Geez. Anyway, you guessed wrong, sucker.

Let's try again, which of the following did Pea recently do:

1) Eat a massive grilled cheese sandwich and onion rings
2) Help her Dad install sod in the backyard
3) Learn to dance

If you guessed #1, you don't have an 11-month-old and think very little of our parenting abilities. For shame.

If you guessed #2, you either live in China or have very politically incorrect views on child labour. For shame.

If you guessed #3, you would be correct. Congratulations.

If you've never seen an 11-month-old dance, it is quite a sight to behold. At first, Pea was dancing by simply bobbing up and down. We considered this dancing, but in the back of my mind I always knew she was merely imitating the motion of her exersaucer and so her dancing was slightly tainted in some way. Then, somehow, she decided that dancing was not an up and down motion, but a side-to-side wiggling of the hips. It didn't take long for the Latin in her to come shining through.

Now, if Pea was a popular music star from the 50's (Elvis), the aforementioned hip wiggling would be censored for TV, because truth be told it is quite vigorous and uncontrolled. But these are different times. Pea's dancing is now widely accepted, and so the Pod and I are not concerned. She has rhythm, and there was no certainty of that going into this... she does, after all, have me as her father.

Remember Elaine's dance on Seinfeld. Yeah.

So there you have it. A lonely Dad and a cute new dance from the Pea. Pretty random stuff, but I'm tired. Give me a break.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never loses her joie de vivre.