Trevvy, Still Thinking …

The scene is a father and four children seated around a cluttered, crumby, sticky breakfast table. The youngest, TREVOR, has only recently been awakened by DAD to eat breakfast. Trevor addresses his dad out of the blue.

TREVOR: When will I be at Mars?

DAD: When will you go to Mars? I dunno — maybe if you become an astronaut when you grow up, you’ll go to Mars someday. But people don’t usually go to Mars.

TREVOR: Maybe if I’m an alien, I’ll go to Mars.

DAD: (laughing) Maybe. But I don’t think you’re an alien. I’m pretty sure you’re a human.

TREVOR: But maybe I will … I saw an alien world. Aliens stay awake all night — and sleep during the day.

Trevvy Thinking, Again …

Trevor just approached me with a look of revelation and the smile of certainty on his face.

“Daddy,” he said. “Babies are the cutest humans in the world!”

“Oh, really?” I said.

He smiled, nodded once, turned and walked away.

I’m thinking perhaps four-year-old boys might give babies a run for their money.

First Day of School

The kids rolled out of bed around ten to six this morning. It wasn’t yet light, or else my eyes were still closed and I only thought they were open.

It’s good they were excited for school. Trevor starts preschool a couple days a week in another week or so. Campus is covered with students, too — and like clockwork, a cold front blows in, rustling the ivy outside my office window.

Good thing I love fall!

Summer Vacation, Day 89: Butterflies

You might think this post is about Emma’s first full day of school, with lunch and recess and everything. It’s not. It’s about the butterfly garden at the Como Zoo — our visit to which was appropriately overshadowed by Gabe’s illness and sudden eruption in the zoo lobby. Jodi wasn’t convinced she wanted to go through the butterfly house, which looks like a giant monarch caterpillar made of yellow, white and black striped mesh. I thought the kids would like it, though, so we got in line. Turns out I may have liked it best.

I should mention that, as we walked from the car to the zoo, we followed a monarch flip-fluttering on the breeze, brilliant orange against the green of the trees along the walk. It sparked something in me — just for a second, I wanted to follow it.

So — we entered the butterfly garden, and we’re surrounded. Broad-winged blue butterflies. Little reds and yellows. So many you can hear their wing beats — so delicate we were instructed not to touch them or brush them off, so strong they dogfight the breezes and come out on top. We saw young butterflies courting, and an old giant with wings like frayed denim flap his death-dance in the shady dirt beneath the flowers. Each one seemed as lovely and surprising and unique as summer day — soaring or topsy-turvy, feasting or resting, brilliant or melancholy …

Quite a collection — of Lepidotera and long summer days. Hope yours was good, too.

Summer Vacation, Day 88: Presence Makes the Absence Harder

I mentioned before that Betsy moved to Minnesota with us five years ago. It was the summer between her junior and senior years of high school, and she spent it watching our three kids while I worked for Hanley-Wood and Jodi looked for day care and a job.

We knew several girls from out old youth group who could’ve fit the bill, but there was something about Betsy. While she stayed with us this week, Jodi recalled the time when, a few minutes before the start of Mass, a girl who had a speaking role got nervous and said she couldn’t do it. Betsy shrugged and said, “I’ll do it.” No rehearsal, no nothing; she saw what needed to be done, and stepped up. I remember telling Jodi that I knew if anything went wrong at home, she would take care of the kids – even in high school, she was a loving and self-sacrificing girl.

Before she arrived last weekend, it had been four years since she’d visited. College and bills had kept her away since her godson Trevor’s baptism. We knew we missed her, but while we were excited to see her, Trevor didn’t remember her per se and there was the chance that the years had put some distance between us.

She spent a week with us, helping Jodi with her daycare, entertaining the kids, even doing dishes. She got growlly when we told her it was her vacation and she didn’t have to help. She was one of our own again, and when she left this afternoon, we all noticed something: Having just had her back, we miss her more this moment than the last many months combined.

She called a little while ago. She’s on the ground in Michigan, safe and sound. She said she loves us.

We love you, too, dear one.