The preschooler has just been churning them out lately. This chuckle requires some backstory.

The preschooler likes to print pictures off the Internet websites that she is allowed to access. Recently, she printed out two pictures, wrote the words "I love you Mom" on both of them and placed them neatly on my pillow. She did the same thing for her sister.

Now, lest you think the preschooler is all sweetness and light, this is also the same child who, when she is mad at you, will draw a picture of your face, draw a circle around it, and then put a big, black line right through the center of it. She will then tape that picture somewhere around the house where you will be sure to see it and know the force of her wrath.

So, anyway, the spouse comes home, notices the pictures on my pillow, and, in a voice that is a tad too casual, remarks that there is no picture for "Dad" on his side of the bed.

Later, I pull the preschooler aside and say, "Maybe you should make a picture for Dad too. He might feel sad if he doesn't have one." That evening, the spouse came into our bedroom with a strange but amused look on his face.

Spouse: Did you tell her that I wanted a picture?

Me: Well, I mentioned that you might want one. Why?

Spouse:  I was tucking her in, and she looked up and said, "Dad, there are two pictures in the garbage.  If you want one, you can go get it and put your name on it."

The season of giving -- preschooler style.
 

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Humorous Quote of the Day: 

"Anything you bring a monkey to is instantly 30 percent better.  Family reunions, labor negotiations, the DMV."

-- Jack Ferraiolo, Head Writer for the PBS show "WordGirl"

(I gotta admit that this quote just cracked me up when I read it, not sure why.  The spouse thinks it's just weird.)

Sometimes you find laughter in the most unexpected places.

I had to have a diagnostic mammogram last Monday because I felt a lump in my left armpit the Friday before.  The good news is that everything is okay. The bad news was that I spent the weekend terrified that it was cancer.  As loyal readers may remember from my "Teddy Bears" blogs, my mother died of cancer last year, and earlier this year, I had a scare during my annual mammogram.

So, once again sad and afraid, I went to have another diagnostic mammogram at Aurora Sinai Hospital in downtown Milwaukee (the old Mount Sinai Hospital).  Aurora Sinai, because it is the hospital for the downtown area, can sometimes be host to... shall we say "unusual" ...patients.  I went to school at Marquette so "unusual" people who, let's say happen to be talking to themselves, don't really phase me anymore.  (No disrespect intended.)

One of these unusual people was sitting in the waiting room with me.  I'm going to call her "Susie," but I have no idea what her real name was.  The first clue that Susie was "unusual" was the personal, wire shopping cart at her side, the contents of which was a large, battered, dirty cardboard box.  The second clue was that Susie was chattering non-stop to the woman seated across from her.  The third clue was that the woman didn't really appear to be listening to her and instead sat with her eyes glued to the magazine on her lap. 

Although there was an empty seat next to Susie, I deliberately chose the seat that was farthest from her.  I had just gotten done with the exam, and I was anxiously waiting for the preliminary results.  I didn't want to speak to anyone.  So, I too kept my eyes down, so that Susie wouldn't engage me.

It didn't matter to Susie; she just kept talking away.  After awhile though, I began to listen.  She wasn't rambling incoherently; she wasn't saying anything inappropriate or vulgar.  She was just talking, albeit without much interruption, moving from one topic to the next.  She was actually quite pleasant.  So, without actually looking at her yet, I lifted my eyes to her shopping cart and started nodding and smiling at some of the things she said.  I kept wondering what the heck was in her box, but I didn't really want to peek inside.

Then, as she continued to speak, I thought to myself that there probably weren't a lot of people that looked her in the eyes while she spoke, and I thought what a terrible thing that would be to have people "dismiss" you like that.  So, I lifted my eyes further up and looked at her face. 

Susie spoke about her cat, about getting lost at Mayfair Mall, about the outrageous neighbors in her apartment complex, and then she started talking about Carrie Underwood, the country singer.  I listened to it all, even though I was still feeling scared. 

Then, Susie started to sing her favorite Carrie Underwood song, "Jesus, Take the Wheel."  These are part of the lyrics she sang:

 "Jesus, take the wheel

Take it from my hands

Cause I can't do it on my own

I'm letting go"

I didn't really hear the rest of the song because after she sang that small part, I realized that there was nothing I could do about the results of the exam.  The result was going to be whatever it was going to be.

After that insight, I was able to laugh at some of the funny things Susie was saying, and we had a good ol' time in that waiting room until the nurse gave me the thumbs up. 

Susie reminded me that there are things that we can't control and that sometimes you just have to put it in the hands of whatever higher power you believe in and let go.

"It comes at you quickly; it requires alertness and skill; the outcome is unpredictable; the weak can sometimes overcome the strong; it involves elimination and has both winners and losers." (Rule 10)

The above quote is an excerpt from the book, 50 Rules Kids Won't Learn in School (Real World Antidotes to Feel-Good Education), by Charles J. Sykes.  On Monday, September 17, 2007, Mr. Sykes will be appearing at the Harry W. Schwartz Bookstore in Brookfield to promote and speak about his book.  The event begins at 7:00 p.m.

I don't listen to his radio show, and I am not familiar with his other work.  However, after reading a short newspaper review of this latest book by Mr. Sykes, I was compelled to buy it because the quoted "rules" were bitingly funny and at the same time had a serious edge.  Coming from the perspective that real-world perspectives and basic common sense are being lost in a world of touchy-feely parenting, Mr. Sykes has expanded what were originally 14 Rules into 50 Rules, some that I agree with and some that I don't.

Each rule is given its own chapter.  Although you may not want to use it as your main parenting tome, the topics covered, the counsel given, and the anecdotes described do make you think. 

Here are a few of the other rules:

Rule 7:  If you think your teacher is tough, wait until you get a boss.  He won't have tenure, so he'll tend to be a bit edgier.  When you screw up, he's not going to ask how you FEEL about it.

Rule 18: Life is not divided into semesters. And you don't get summers off. 

Rule 33: Be nice to nerds.  You may end up working for them.  We all could.

Rule 48: Tell yourself the story of your life.  Have a point.
 

Today's quotes topic:  Worry

If you are anything like me, you probably worry a little too much about things that are too little.  I came across some great quotes recently that I use to remind myself not to sweat the small stuff.

Finish every day and be done with it...You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can.  Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it...serenely,and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you have some fear of pain or suffering, you should examine whether there is anything you can do about it.  If you can, there is no need to worry about it.  If you cannot, then there is also no need to worry. -- The Dalai Lama