Okilee Dokilee

Slack jawed gawker.

It's Friday, which you may have heard already. These are interesting times...it's mid January and the temps are 35 with rain, which makes me sad for all the ice-loving pond monkeys playing at Nokomis this weekend. I still have yet to go to the pond hockey championship, and I briefly considered trying to bring the kids this year, but just couldn't imagine having them out in freezing rain watching something that, to be honest, would likely be fairly boring since I don't know anyone playing.

Also interesting times since it's Conan's last show tonight. Jen and I are planning on staying up for it. How could we miss the last day of his historic 7 month run??

Friday also means family night at the midtown global market, so the kids took us over there for some hijinks. Tonight the Okee Dokee Brothers were playing (www.okeedokee.org if you're interested), which proved to be a highly entertaining act. They sang a whole song about boogers; the adolescents were thrilled.

I find it amusing that we are absolutely in the minority - if not the sole population - of parents who sort of dance along to the music. I say "sort of" because we were sitting, which means it's a half-assed dance, but still...we bounce around, mostly to get the kids into it, but also because the music is rather catchy. I look around, and nobody is doing what we are. Maybe their kids are just older and can dance with little to no prodding or baiting. But I can't shake the feeling that our fellow parents in attendance simply think they are too cool for school.

Kids had a great time dancing. When they quietly and rather placidly led us away from the music, we knew they were done.

Off we went to the playground area for more frivolity. There were kids a-plenty; there was craziness. At some point Jen gave me a weird look. I should know this look by now, because it's a knowing, important look that a spouse should pick up on instantly, and it's very recognizable. Something was bothering her; I could tell she needed to tell me something.

"Did you hear what that kid said?"

"No," I replied. My attention had been elsewhere.

"He called Abby a monster. He said she looked weird and her eyes were too far apart."

Amazing that words from the mouth of a child can be so absurdly powerful, strong enough to cause me actual physical pain, strong enough to deflate us so devastatingly and so quickly. Just a few syllables can paint a lifetime of hardships (possibly? who knows.) that lie in wait for Abby.

I feel like I'm able to shrug these events off now. Jen seems to always, always be the one that actually hears it, thus she gets to bear the emotional load of it, but even she seems like they are starting to bother her less. As for Abby, she kept dancing around the play area, babbling random nonsense to herself, enjoying herself unreservedly. Oh how I love that little monster.

Day three hundred and forty.

She's doing the puppet dance!

Smiles and banjo-pickin'.

Lily stomps a lot less when she dances. This is a good thing.