Sunday, June 06, 2004
Games People Play
Several years ago Lee and I became fans for a time of "Inside the Actor's Studio." I always looked forward to the end of the show, when the featured actor was asked the "Pivot Questionnaire." Perhaps I'll write about how I'd answer all 10 questions at another time, but the one that stands out for me right now is, "What turns you on?" To which I'd respond, "Creativity."
Many people associate creativity with those who have taken art or science in an uncharted direction: Mozart and Ellington and Hendrix come to mind in music, for example. But that's far more esoteric than what I'm thinking of right now. I'm immersed in the day to day marathon of parenthood. Keeping a two-year old entertained for a couple of hours? Now THAT requires creativity, and Lee has it in spades.
One of my favorite times of day is in the evening, when I'm in the kitchen making dinner and Lee and Max are outside making up games. One is called, "I've Got Some More Stuff In My Ear." The game originated in a restaurant, when a very bored Max had tired of sitting still. Lee performed a rudimentary version of the old "quarter in the ear" trick, and Max was hooked. Now Max makes the opening salvo by telling Lee he's got some more stuff in his ear. And Lee, with a flourish of "daddy magic", begins to produce all manner of things ostensibly from Max's ear: a plastic watering can, an icy cold bottle of beer, a shoe, a tennis racquet--whatever is within arm's reach. Generally speaking, the bigger the foreign object, the more special effects are required to extract it (tugging, twisting, straining, unusual sound effects, etc.). Like a 9-year old holding on to Santa Claus for one more bountiful Christmas, if Max is clued in to the fact that these things aren't really coming from his ear, he keeps it to himself.
Another game is the "Aspiring Russian Gymnast" routine. One day Lee picked up a hula hoop that had been lying around the garage and made it boomerang. You've probably seen this technique in the rhythmic gymnastics competition at the Olympics: by rolling the hoop with enough backspin, it eventually reverses direction and comes back to the lithesome waif. (How Lee came up with this trick is a mystery to me, because I'd wager a lot of money that he's never watched more of a rhythmic gymnastics event than the time it takes to change the channel.) Max's role is to chase the spinning hoop, anticipating its speed and change in direction, and catch it before it wobbles to the ground. An ancillary benefit of this game: depleting Max's considerable reserves of energy before bedtime.
Last night I looked out the window to see Lee and Max racing around the back yard, this time sans hoop. They had just invented a new "Rope the Steer" game. Picture steer-roping at the rodeo, with Max as the steer and Reed's favorite teething toy, a small ring of rubber beads, as the rope. Max and Lee line up together in the "chute." Lee yells "go" and Max takes off running. Lee's job is to toss the ring so that it lands on Max. I stopped cleaning up the kitchen to savor the moment: over and over, father and son, cowboy and steer, running and chasing, laughing and giggling, in the waning evening light.
Some women want a man who brings them gifts. Some women want a man who brings them to Paris. Some women want a man who brings them breakfast in bed. Me? I want a man who brings so much joy to a two-year old boy in their backyard on a summer's night.
Many people associate creativity with those who have taken art or science in an uncharted direction: Mozart and Ellington and Hendrix come to mind in music, for example. But that's far more esoteric than what I'm thinking of right now. I'm immersed in the day to day marathon of parenthood. Keeping a two-year old entertained for a couple of hours? Now THAT requires creativity, and Lee has it in spades.
One of my favorite times of day is in the evening, when I'm in the kitchen making dinner and Lee and Max are outside making up games. One is called, "I've Got Some More Stuff In My Ear." The game originated in a restaurant, when a very bored Max had tired of sitting still. Lee performed a rudimentary version of the old "quarter in the ear" trick, and Max was hooked. Now Max makes the opening salvo by telling Lee he's got some more stuff in his ear. And Lee, with a flourish of "daddy magic", begins to produce all manner of things ostensibly from Max's ear: a plastic watering can, an icy cold bottle of beer, a shoe, a tennis racquet--whatever is within arm's reach. Generally speaking, the bigger the foreign object, the more special effects are required to extract it (tugging, twisting, straining, unusual sound effects, etc.). Like a 9-year old holding on to Santa Claus for one more bountiful Christmas, if Max is clued in to the fact that these things aren't really coming from his ear, he keeps it to himself.
Another game is the "Aspiring Russian Gymnast" routine. One day Lee picked up a hula hoop that had been lying around the garage and made it boomerang. You've probably seen this technique in the rhythmic gymnastics competition at the Olympics: by rolling the hoop with enough backspin, it eventually reverses direction and comes back to the lithesome waif. (How Lee came up with this trick is a mystery to me, because I'd wager a lot of money that he's never watched more of a rhythmic gymnastics event than the time it takes to change the channel.) Max's role is to chase the spinning hoop, anticipating its speed and change in direction, and catch it before it wobbles to the ground. An ancillary benefit of this game: depleting Max's considerable reserves of energy before bedtime.
Last night I looked out the window to see Lee and Max racing around the back yard, this time sans hoop. They had just invented a new "Rope the Steer" game. Picture steer-roping at the rodeo, with Max as the steer and Reed's favorite teething toy, a small ring of rubber beads, as the rope. Max and Lee line up together in the "chute." Lee yells "go" and Max takes off running. Lee's job is to toss the ring so that it lands on Max. I stopped cleaning up the kitchen to savor the moment: over and over, father and son, cowboy and steer, running and chasing, laughing and giggling, in the waning evening light.
Some women want a man who brings them gifts. Some women want a man who brings them to Paris. Some women want a man who brings them breakfast in bed. Me? I want a man who brings so much joy to a two-year old boy in their backyard on a summer's night.
1 Comments:
What a lucky boy Max is to have his Daddy! And what a lucky boy Max is to have a Mommy who's writing these lovely stories, which I'm sure he'll treasure someday. This one, Melanie, is really sweet, and beautifully written, too.
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