A Conference of Daillaks

Bubba Mike Day

So, it's true, I've had a little writer's block these days. But there's so much more to contend with. I'm no longer celebrating Django's random 5-word utterances. I'm having to answer for the changing shapes of shadows on the wall, and the purpose of billboard advertising, as well as search for a preschool next fall. It's all so overwhelming!

Nice guy that he is, Bubba Mike has agreed to guest write a few words about his first 5 consecutive hours alone with Django this weekend, while I went on my first preschool previews:

So his mama asked me if I would take the boy to zoo class, she need to look at preschools. Anything for the boy, I said. Saturday zoo class was going to be prairie dog day. I wanted to do a good job. I went to bed early on Friday night in anticipation. I don't hang around kids, let alone unsupervised so I was as anxious as could be. DJ and I went to class, put on our name tags ("DJANGO" "BUBBA MIKE"), sang songs, colored pictures, petted animals, played on the playground, rode the merry-go-round, the whole shabang. There were several highlights that day that allayed my concerns (I am the most overly scared, safety conscious person who was ever allowed to be near kids - I have argued with his mom for a helmet until puberty) , warmed my heart, and made me love this little boy more than I thought I could. None was more special that when I asked Django if he wanted to go meet his mama for lunch and he said he'd rather stay at the zoo swinging on the swings with Bubba Mike. A little kid's seal of approval is not something you hang on your office wall. It is way more important and meaningful.

p.s. Bubba Mike went home and took a 2-hour nap after his time with Django, but Django was up and ready to go again after only 1.5.

Post-Halloween

A little bit of snipping, sewing, and 256 duct tape circles later, I am pleased to report that it was Django who ended up wearing his homemade octopus costume not me. For a day or so, it was close. He looked terrific, wasn't even startled by the 'Wicked Witch,' and forgot his laboriously collected bag of candy existed by the next morning -- which was good for me, of course, because then I felt free to eat it.

Delightful and Disgusting

Letting the Days Go By

Chillin' with Bubba Mike

One of the many benefits of life in the big city is the ever-present opportunity for a nice 'ground score' -- i.e., a precious and/or valuable item cast lazily but graciously right out onto the sidewalk by its former owner-appreciator for someone else to find.

These days you can manufacture the experience by combing the "Free" section of craigslist's classifieds. But you'll never get the same high of serendipity as when you ground score the old fashioned way. Just ask Bubba Mike. He recently scored a Dickies hoodie for Django, and I'm willing to bet he's going to be talking about the excitement of it for as long as it takes Django to grow into it. For his part, Django received the spoils of Bubba MIke's great fortune with equal enthusiasm. He demanded to put it on, refused to take it off, crawled right onto the couch, pulled a blanket onto his legs, and settled cozily into watching baseball on tv.

Funny Faces

We rode the bus to the beach at Aquatic Park last Saturday, with an aim to visit the Aquarium of the Bay. But we never made it, because the thrill of getting naked and frolicking in the waves was a way bigger attraction for my little big man.

There were tons of swimmers, including seals, and it all made me quite nostalgic for my days as a triathlete. Sigh.

Post-frolick, I don't actually remember what Django was saying to me while I was snapping these photos, but he was salty, sandy, wet and surly and they make me laugh -- so I decided to fabricate his half of the dialogue. My version goes something like this:

Hmmm.

Oh my hell!

Ooooh.

Really?

You're kidding, right?


As for the video, I missed filming the funniest part -- his reaction to the little wave knocking him over -- because I had to make sure he didn't drown. You would've loved it. But, ho-hum, duty called.