Me vs. Ponytails

Madeline starting second grade is a big deal. But an even bigger deal is that for the first day, I, a dad, did her hair all by myself — and it looked pretty good. Or at the very least, not terrible. Certainly not bad enough that people were pointing at her and saying, “Geez, a dad must’ve done that.” And that’s something.

It’s not that the off-center top ponytail is a complicated style. There'd just never been much reason for me to learn how, which had grown into some kind of tress-related block. But Kelly was about to be out of town on a school day for the first time.

Back in the daycare era when Kelly travelled, I’d take a fistful of rubber bands with me and look traumatized until I could corner a teacher. “Please help hair ponytail me can’t do thank you, ack.”

However, it seemed a little gauche to walk into Madeline’s classroom and ask her brand new teacher if she could help a dad out. Nor could I simply throw in a barrette because there’s about a five-minute ceiling on Madeline’s ability to keep those in her hair.

The time had finally come for me to go ahead and master the ponytail already.

So Madeline, Kelly and I had a Saturday morning ponytail seminar, during which I took rigorous notes. “Wetting comb helps tame wispies.” “Hair goes through rubber band 3x.”

Kelly said she’d never seen me in such deep concentration. Then she took Madeline to buy some uniform-legal bows. “They’re your secret weapon,” Kelly said. “And they’re very forgiving.”

My first practice drill showed promise. Then at Madeline’s insistence, she had me do her hair every morning thereafter, smartly realizing she didn’t want my second go to be when it was for real.

On the first day of school, just to be on the safe side, I got her up 30 minutes early to account for multiple ponytail attempts and the slight possibility that I’d fail with every rubber band in the house and have to run out for reinforcements.

I am proud to say that with only a single re-do necessary, I executed a successful ponytail/bow combo. When Madeline joined me at the office after school, independent confirmation of my triumph was provided by some of my lady co-workers. They also told me they were disappointed I hadn’t taken their advice and tried to do this.

Of course, the day Kelly got back, Madeline asked her for an elaborate style involving multiple braids and flair and whatnot. Showoff.

But it’s a relief to know that in a pinch, dad is here with mad ponytail skills.

Okay, acceptable ponytail skills.

Quick — somebody hand me a bow.

First Grade Happened (And Other Stories)

So more than a year has gone by since my last Dad Blog post, and man, does time fly — except during a first grade girls softball game. Those are 75 minutes long and what with the heat seem to last forever.

The good news is that first grade went pretty well for Madeline. In addition to, of course, learning things, a few of the highlights were:

I Know Why the
Caged Bunnicula Sings

• Getting cast as Bunnicula in the first grade play, which explains why one of her spelling words was “vampire”
• Singing “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” with her friends at the year-end talent show
• Winning PTO Trivia Night (okay, that was actually me, Kelly and some parent friends of ours, but I feel this victory can't go left unmentioned)

Like so many households across America, it’s all Frozen all the time at our place. The number one way to shut it down is to jump in and sing along, as the last thing Madeline wants to do is duet with her dad. (I learned this trick from an incident with my mom and “Personal Jesus.” Eventually, we all become our parents.)

The number two way is to find “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll” on the radio. That is her jam right now.

Meanwhile, James still digs My Little Pony, but he’s really into Thomas the Tank Engine. I looked Thomas up on the Internet so I could talk trains with the boy, and three hours later realized I’d fallen into a massive Wikihole. There is an insane level of detail to the Island of Sodor — it’s like a My First Tolkien.

I was also amazed to learn that Thomas & Friends is on its 17th season. A recent episode was titled “The Smelly Kipper.” At some point you’re bound to run out of plots.

Our family watched Star Wars together for the first time on Father’s Day. James wouldn’t watch it without his Star Wars ABC book. Star Wars plus the alphabet — it’s educational in two ways!

The first thing I did when James got the book was make sure J isn’t for Jar Jar, but thankfully there was no Gungan in sight. As a nerd dad, this is no less than my most important responsibility.

And now summer is almost over — next month James will move up a room at daycare and Madeline will start second grade.

Where does the time go? We haven’t even watched The Empire Strikes Back yet!

How’s your summer going? Do anything cool? In denial that school will be starting up again soon? Or are you counting down the days?

Pop (1927-2013)

My grandfather Pop passed away in April. His given name was Robert, and I’m honored to be named after him.

He was a great father to his three girls and a beyond loving husband to my grandmother Coley, in the kind of way that you can only be if you’ve been with somebody forever. The two of them were married for more than 50 years before Grandmother left us a couple of days after Christmas in 2008. We’ve all missed her since then, but no one more than Pop.

Pop was one of the last true manly men. He was a boxer in the Navy and could build things with tools. And while it’s doubtful I’ll be furthering his legacy in those ways, hopefully some of the traits that made him an excellent father and husband rubbed off on me.

I was pretty close with both of my grandparents. My mom and I lived with them for a few years when I was starting kindergarten. Once my mom got us a place of our own, I still spent Friday nights at their house. We’d watch Knight Rider, The Dukes of Hazzard and Manimal together.

Even after my mom remarried and we moved to Kansas, I’d go to Louisiana for a couple of weeks each summer. Grandmother, Pop and I would hang out and play Canasta. My wife Kelly is positive they taught me how to cheat at cards, but I’ll never tell.

The day Pop died Madeline gave me a big hug and said, “Daddy, I know you’re sad right now. I’m sad, too.” Then Madeline and I talked about whether or not Pop is still rocking his goatee in heaven. I think he is. Madeline thinks he probably just has a mustache. This is a discussion I feel Pop would’ve appreciated.

The last time Kelly and I visited Louisiana with the kids, Pop took Madeline down to his woodshop and gave her a birdhouse he made. Madeline only got to be around Pop a handful of times, but I hope she’ll always be able to remember playing with him. 

Hey Grandmother and Pop — I miss you two, but I’m happy you’re back together again. Just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you.

Junior Bracketology

I run a March Madness pool with a bunch of my friends from college. The rule for all of our kids is that they’re allowed to join, as long as they make their own picks. So last week, Madeline filled out her first bracket.

How’s she doing? After the first weekend of the NCAA tournament, her bracket is what’s referred to in sports lingo as, “100% f’ed.”

You’ve got to hand it to her for her faith in the Midwest, though. Madeline’s Final Four includes KU, K-State and Missouri, with KU winning the championship. She’s also got California in there because she digs the Phantom Planet song — and while that didn’t pan out for her, it’s hardly the worst strategy I’ve heard of for making picks.

She doesn’t know there’s money at stake. Rather than introducing her to the concept of gambling, I spotted her the $5. Madeline sometimes latches onto things obsessively, and I need her to focus on learning my cell phone number — not 1-888-BETS-OFF.

Plus, if Madeline discovered gambling now, by second grade she’d be a bookie. She’s smart like that. Although I guess if that happened, then James could be her enforcer. One look at that little mister’s big blue eyes and deadbeats couldn’t help but let him kneecap them.

Going into the next round of the Big Dance, Madeline’s bracket is in the basement. But there’s still a chance she might not come in dead last — so long as the Jayhawks take it all the way and the guy in next-to-last place misses every single one of his picks. (K-State and Mizzou readers, please keep your comments to yourself. Remember, she had you guys in the Final Four, too.)

In any case, while Madeline would certainly love a Jayhawk victory, the basketball itself hasn’t been her #1 favorite part of March Madness. That was making her sweet bracket folder.  

And I’m absolutely going to save that folder forever.

Did your kids fill out brackets? How did they make their picks?

Madeline and Brandy and Shaft and James (Or, “At Least One of My Kids Can Tolerate My Singing”)

My second favorite song of all time is “Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)” by Looking Glass. A #1 hit from 1972, it’s the story of a tavern girl in love with a sailorman who can’t fathom a life on dry land.



When Madeline was a baby, I used to sing it to her as a lullaby. She’d ask for it by calling it “Brandy’s Eyes,” because the barflies tell Brandy that your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea.

The song did require a couple of minor tweaks, though.

1. A change to the lyric, they say, “Brandy, fetch another round”/she serves them whiskey and wine. In my version, Brandy serves lemonade, due to a vision I had of Madeline going around singing about booze. Which would’ve been adorable, but well, you know.
2. When Brandy’s fella tells his sailor stories, it gets intense — she could feel the ocean fall and rise/she saw its raging glory. The first time I sang this part to Madeline I got way too into it, waking her up and thus defeating the point of a lullaby. So I’ve had to dial it down some.

I haven’t really found a song for James and me that’s ours like “Brandy” was for me and the girl. Sometimes I’ll sing “Mr. James” to the tune of Counting Crows’ “Mr. Jones.” Or I’ll change the words to “Theme From Shaft” to be about him.

Who is the baby that is his dad’s favorite baby? James! He’s a complicated baby, and no one understands him like his bumblebee.

At bedtime for James, Kelly sings him a medley of “Goodnite, Sweetheart,” “You Are My Sunshine” and “Rockabye Baby.” But when she was gone the other night and I started into “Goodnite, Sweetheart,” James was having none of it.

“No sing. Mommy do,” he said.

That same night, Madeline asked if instead of a bedtime story, I could sing her “Brandy.”

YES. And extra hugs, too.

She is entirely too clever for her own good.

Do you remember having any special songs with your mom or dad? What are some of the songs you like to sing to or with your kids?

I'm MC Bishop and I'm here to say / my rhyming skills are on track with normal childhood development

Despite the fact that we inadvertently gave our daughter the initials MC,* she's got zero lyrical flow.

We discovered this when Madeline came to a page in her Hello Kitty activity book that instructed her to "See how many words you can think of that rhyme with the words below!" 

The first word was "kitty," but as there aren't that many words that rhyme with kitty in the average five-year-old's vocabulary, she did what any normal kid her age would do — guess wildly.

Tentatively she said, "Mitty," looking for some kind of acknowledgement from Kelly or me that "mitty" is in fact a word. While it isn't, I did think it was an interesting and topical first guess given the current election season.

For her second try, my sweet, beautiful daughter said with her angelic voice, "Shitty."

Now even though we try to watch our language, it’s entirely possible Madeline could have heard that word from her parents. "Shitty" is pretty much our adjective of choice when we're talking to each other and one of us or one of the kids is being a surlypants. 

"Hey, stop being shitty." "Why so shitty, shitty?" "The kids are kind of shitty tonight." There are other words we could use, but shitty really gets right to the point.

To make sure we heard Madeline correctly — as well as because it’s kind of adorable when your kindergartner accidentally swears — we tried not to laugh and asked her to repeat herself. Then we told her that's not really a good word for her to use, and thus far she hasn't said it again.

Keeping in mind that this is my new wave five-year-old, I’m a little disappointed Madeline didn’t try to rhyme kitty with Scritti and/or Politti before moving on to another page in the book. 

*Madeline's initials are 100% unintentional. We didn't realize she'd be MC Bishop until it was too late.

However, when deciding on a name for James, to complement his sister I actively tried to come up with something that had the initials DJ — but Kelly saw right through my plan and shot me down. 

We could've had a lil' hip-hop family! 

Any other parents have kids swearing at an advanced level? How are you dealing with it? Are they at least using the words correctly?

Bears Don't Have Wheels

The kindergarten homework failure parade continued at the Bishop house last week. But at least we had a win first.

What you see above is a picture of grapes, bananas, cupcakes and a pumpkin. The directions said to cross out the one that doesn’t belong with the others. Madeline crossed out the pumpkin.

I asked her why. "Pumpkins aren’t for eating," she said, like it was the most ridiculous question she’d ever heard.

This does actually makes some sense, though. Number of times she’s had cupcakes? Countless. Number of times she’s had pumpkin in clearly recognizable pumpkin form? Zero.

In fact, the number of times I've had raw pumpkin is zero, too. Seeds? Sure. Pie? Yes, but then it's more akin to cupcakes so we’re back at square one.

I guess pumpkin is a fruit. But come on, when you think of fruit, you've got to get pretty far down the list before you get to pumpkin. And before I wrote that, I absolutely had to Google pumpkin to confirm it’s not really a vegetable. 

Thus, a moral parental quandary for Kelly and me: 

1. Tell Madeline we agree with her but she's wrong and that's just how the world is so suck it up, kid. 
2. Let Madeline turn in homework we were pretty sure would be sent back marked incorrect, further reinforcing her teacher's surely burgeoning belief that Kelly and I are a bit on the daft side. 

Ultimately, we decided to leave the X on the pumpkin, and wrote a note to the teacher asking her to ask Madeline to explain why that was the thing that didn’t belong. The homework came back with a green "OK." Victory! 

The celebration, however, was to be short-lived. This is where the sad trombone of the homework failure parade began to play once more.

The worksheet also came back marked "Redo and follow the whole directions," as some of the problems had an extra step that we’d missed. What we were supposed to do for those was: "Cross out the one that doesn’t belong and tell why." (The pumpkin problem wasn’t among these.)

I assure you we hadn’t completely ignored this part — I’d just done it wrong. Instead of having Madeline write down the answer, I’d sat down with the kid and had her verbally "tell why." You know, on account of the fact that Madeline can't spell.

Okay, she can spell a few things — her name, her brother’s name, Mommy, Daddy, love and a couple of other words. She’s positive this is enough for her to be able to play Words With Friends, yet I remain unconvinced.

Anyway, I asked Madeline to explain why among a tricycle, toy truck, wagon and teddy bear, she’d crossed out what she did.

"Daddy," she began, a little condescendingly. "Bears don’t have wheels." It was like she was maybe 98% sure I knew the answer, but had decided to play it safe just in case.

I spelled "bears don't have wheels" out for her letter by letter and she wrote it all down, and then we redid the rest of the problems she’d missed. The homework came back the next day with an "OK" on it.

 
You don’t eat pumpkin. Bears don’t have wheels. 

Madeline must be constantly wondering, "What is wrong with these people?"