Daddy Loves You

They guy I coach with and I took a few kids to the batting cage today. They were all hitting pretty well, although the bunting seemed to throw my youngest off a little. I expect it's because he's so used to his brothers throwing at his head that he's a little nervous about squaring away.

About halfway through, he glanced over and asked, "How come you never say 'Good job' when I get a hit?"

Next pitch he drilled one.

My friend said, "Good job, Precious! That was a very special hit."

I said, "You hit that one like a big boy, sweetheart. Daddy's very proud of you."

Someday I'm going to pay for my fun.

Parent Of The Year, Part 5

We're not too faithful, if you will, about the religion stuff around here. I think my kids were inside a house of worship once, to see a relative baptised or something, but I can't even swear to that.

I had the best intentions early on. Although I'm not much of a believer myself, I thought it would be good for children to at least get the cultural information that comes from some kind of religious training. Then they were born, weekend mornings started coming earlier and earlier, and another set of best intentions went right out the window. I've instead devoted my life to being such an outstanding role model that there is no need for them to get formalized spiritual instruction.

[Pause for laughter.]

For the most part, it's worked out pretty well. The boys seem honest, caring, respectful, all the things that I'd hope for as a parent. The only thing sometimes missing is the cultural information. A lot of it's been picked up through forums other than church; for example, you'd be amazed how much can be learned about biblical history by listening to Ned Flanders on "The Simpsons." Once in a while, though, there are gaps.

Yesterday, one of our kids started calling around, trying to find a friend who could play. We warned him that people were going to be busy because of Easter.

"What's the big deal about Easter?" he asked.

"You know who Jesus is?"

"I'm not stupid," he replied.

"Well, Christians believe that Easter is the day when Jesus rose from the dead."

"You mean Jesus was a zombie?"

He hasn't burst into flames yet. I suppose that's a good sign.

I Can See For Miles And Miles

I'm finally done with the traveling for now, thank God. Sitting in a vehicle staring at hundreds of miles of nothing is enough to make anyone crazy, and as I sit pretty close to that edge under the best of circumstances, my family was taking good care to make sure that the insurance was paid up.

Highlights of my travels include:

Lying in bed on Monday, praying that I'd die before I had to get up.

The person who complained about the Indian casino on the grounds that "we shouldn't give our money to foreigners."

Lying in bed on Tuesday, praying that I'd die before I had to get up.

My son, who spent the week traveling with me, looking at me after I told him to start calling me "sir" and saying, "Alright. Sir Cumference."

Lying in bed on Wednesday, praying that I'd die before I had to get up.

Explaining to a skeptical but still horrified group of dinner companions that the recipe for bird poppers involves hollowing out baby waterfowl, filling them with cream cheese, and deep frying them.

Lying in bed on Thursday, praying that I'd die before I had to get up.

Hearing someone say, "The food is really bad here. And they don't give you nearly enough." Unfortunately, this person was not doing a one-man vaudeville retrospective.

Lying in bed on Friday, praying that I'd die before I had to get up.

Driving in an 90-minute circle on an unpaved county road because I trusted a map instead of my common sense.

Lying in bed on Saturday, guessing that I'd die now that I was past hoping for it.

It's nice to be home.

I Wish That Voice Was In My Head

In the last three years, I have given the same presentation 45 times. Granted, my audiences are blessed with a compelling speaker, someone who combines a Bono-like charisma with the rapier wit of a modern day Oscar Wilde. And, of course, the physical presence of "Stone Cold" Steve Austin. They are captivated, moved to laughter and tears in a rising crescendo of emotion, until it finally ends and it is all they can do to resist rushing the lectern to engulf me in their love.

On the other hand, I'm beginning to hate the sound of my own voice. I wish I knew a joke in Esperanto. That would break things up a little.

Where In The World

I had dinner at an Olympic medalist's restaurant tonight. I'm in the middle of nowhere, absolutely no reason for this place to produce an Olympian, but it did.

He was back in the kitchen working. No medal hanging around his neck, just a guy. His kid was wandering around the kitchen and the Olympian picked him up, smiled, twirled around, and got back to work.

When we left, he waved to us. He looked like one of my drinking buddies. He was just like me in fact, except that at the thing he does best, there's pretty much nobody in the world who's better.

Stupid Ohio State

My youngest just won the family NCAA pool for the second year in a row. That means a full year of "Threepeat!" and "In your face!" I hope we find his real parents soon.

Nothing Could Be Finer

My middle boy's with me this week as I complete my business trip, driving hundreds of miles over the next few days. School's out for spring break and I asked him to come along. I like his company, he's funnier than hell, and he could stand a few days away from his brothers. Middle child's a hard spot; you get it from both ends and we parents don't always make the time we should to understand.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to come. At first, it seemed like a punishment.

"Why do I have to go? Why not my brothers?"

"Because you get the short end of the stick a lot of the time. I want to spoil you for a change."

"What am I going to do while you're working?"

"Hang out in the hotel room. Read. Play video games. Eat junk food. At night we'll watch basketball, baseball, go have pizza, hang out. It'll be fun."

"Okay. Maybe. But why me?"

"You're a good kid. We'll have a blast."

Because I love you son, and you're my greatest joy.