Good guess!

Background item 1: Ever since Charlie and Thomas were in elementary school, I've referred to the indirect (often scenic) driving route as "the fun way." I've continued this habit with Jacob.

Background item 2: Jacob recognizes many words on sight, including the names of familiar streets on signs. As we drive around, he will call them out ("Hey, that says 'Dublin Boulevard!'").

Two nights ago, on the way home from preschool, Jacob requested "the fun way," referring to a specific route that we often take. I said it was too late -- we were already in the turn lane to go the normal way, but we could go a *different* fun way by going straight at the next intersection. As we approached that intersection, he spotted a small green sign in the median that read "Finnian Wy." He said, "Hey, that says "fun way!!"

A noisy life

I'm writing this from the place I go every Tuesday evening with my 4-year-old, Jacob. It has multiple playrooms for him, with inflatable 'bouncy houses' and slides, foam pits, riding toys and a great crew of employees who supervise the kids and do games and crafts with them. We get dinner here -- they have great pizza. For me, there is also wi-fi and a Starbucks counter (or I can get a beer). It is ideal.

Except that it is so loud in here.

I don't mind the kids yelling -- or even crying -- but there are these giant pumps that keep the inflatables inflated and emit a constant, loud, dull whir. It's hard to have a conversation with the people I run into here, let alone get on the phone with someone. And that is a shame because this would be a great time to catch up with my other two sons.

Connecting with either of my older sons when we're both available is only half the battle. The other half is finding a place where I can actually hear them.

Sometimes I try to talk to #1 son Charlie or #2 son Thomas while I'm on my commute home -- but if I'm taking the train, forget it -- it's too loud on the train and on the platform. So whenever I drive, I try to reach them (using a hands-free kit, of course). But I almost always have errands on the way. In stores. Where it's loud. So I have to hang up before we're really done.

Plus, my hands-free kit (which I installed myself) has an annoying hum that I can suppress only by putting my hand over one end of the kit. Is it still hands-free if I have to do that?

Calling them from home is not an option before Jacob is in bed for the night. And by the time he crashes, I'm ready to do the same!

Has life always been this loud during every waking hour?

An unprecedented toileting experience

I thought I had been through every kind of toilet emergency, but today my four-year-old sprung a new one on me:

He says, "I have to go pee right now or I'm going to wet my pants,"  and the only available toilet is the one I'm on (and actively using).

Two men I greatly admire (and not just because they are my sons)

This post -- the first in a long time -- is not an exploration of the blessings and challenges of recycled fatherhood. It is just shameless gloating. This month, my first and second sons both landed excellent jobs.

To say that I place a high value on my sons' autonomy would be an understatement, but I'm not just relieved that they have jobs. I'm excited about the kinds of work they will be doing.

Charlie, a recent UCLA grad and a professional musician, started this week as a specialist at the Apple store in Santa Monica. The job has great synergy with his musicianship (in addition to playing bass, he composes and performs electronic music on a MacBook). He called me tonight with a positive report about his first day on the floor.

Thomas, a freshman (political science major) at UCSD, will be a resident assistant (RA) at the university beginning next year. He is the right man for the job, compulsive about helping people and brilliantly inventive in figuring out how best to do it -- qualities he has demonstrated as a student council member at UCSD's Warren College and, previously, as ASB president at his high school. I see lots more leadership in his future.

No pearl of wisdom, no punch line. I just admire these two young men so much, and I want those who come across this blog to know about it.

Still here

Twenty-one on none

Confession: I still get a kick out of "Bears on Wheels" by the Berenstains.

It's one of the first books my parents read to me when I was little.

I also introduced it to Charlie and Thomas when they were little, and it stuck with us. Even today, when I'm with my 'big guys' and we see people on bicycles, it always occurs to one of us to blurt out how many people on how many wheels there are (example: "Three on six").

Recently, it occurred to me that I'd like to share this classic with my preschooler, Jacob. I ordered it from ThriftBooks (always my first resort for buying books online), and it was shipped to my office.

I waited anxiously for the end of the workday, anticipating my son's giggles at the pictures and narrative of bears falling onto and off of various wheeled things.

Then I started second-guessing my anticipation. Was I being too optimistic? What if Jacob didn't like the book the way I did? Would I be upset? Why did I want Jacob to have the same kind of experiences his older brothers had? Was this about him or about me and my nostalgia?

Sheesh. It's just a book.

Anyway, much to my delight, Jacob found "Bears on Wheels" very entertaining and soon began requesting it at bedtime.

A couple of weeks ago, Jacob and I were on a walk and saw two bicyclists pedaling by.

I said, "Two on four."

He said, "No, it's not two on four." (He disagrees with things he doesn't understand. Don't we all?)

I explained: "It's two guys on four wheels."

"Oh, it is?"

Then we went into the math. "It's two wheels on one bike and two wheels on the other bike. Two plus two is ..."

"Four!" He got it.

Thanks to Stan and Jan Berenstain, I can reinforce simple addition with my son (and eventually  multiplication by two)  every time someone goes by on a bicycle.

If you have never read the book, you probably won't understand the title of this post, "Twenty-one on none." But I won't give it away. It's best that you discover it on the printed page, as my sons and I have.

What literary gems from your childhood have you shared with your kids?

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="124" caption="It's Fatherhood Friday at Dad Blogs. The theme is "Books.""][/caption]

Been there, done that, so what?

People I meet at my son's preschool are sometimes surprised to learn that Jacob has two adult half-brothers. When I told one of the dads, he said, with hints of awe and envy, "So you've already done the whole thing -- this is easy for you."

He and I both know that it never gets "easy" no matter how many kids you have. As we talked, it became clear that he was talking about confidence more than competence.

Like most recycled dads, I am more confident and less anxious as a parent this time. But let's face it: I don't really have any special advantage over the average parent of multiple children.

The last time I had a child Jacob's age was 15 years ago. Any parent with more recent experience with a preschooler has an advantage over me.

I guess there may be  special insights I've gained from seeing my older sons grow all the way to adulthood, but I think the confidence and ease that I feel are mostly 'conjured' -- the result of feeling that I have 'been there, done that.' It's the parenting equivalent of Dumbo's magic feather.