Saturday at the Drag Strip

Not that I want to, but it is becoming clear that it will be tough to keep the boy from the track. Finnegan's Grandpa Larry (known to Finnegan as Pa) and his Aunt Kara and Grandma Terry were in town from Evansville to race at the O'Reilly Raceway Park for IHRA drag racing


Finn spent at least one hour of our eight hour visit at the track attached to this scooter.


He spent at least another hour helping his mother, grandmother fly our kite. That kitew is getting a lotta play this spring.

Lunch time was spent largely with their dog Harley.

The boy is pretty good-natured when he's walked around the track. He brings quite the entourage.
Here is ain't Kara watching Pa warm his tires.

Grandma and Finn watched from the stands. He was pretty impressed.

But the little adrenaline freak just had to fade after awhile no matter how many cars there were to see.
There will be other opportunities.

Flying a kite at O'Bannon Park

It was a lovely day to fly a kite and since Alisha bought some friday, Finnegan hasn't stopped pointing to them and saying "kite, kite, kite..."
I rode past Frank and Judy O'Bannon Park on the Monon last week and saw some folks flying kites and it seemed the perfect place. So there we went.
The first one needed a better tail so we went with the better but weirder one. He liked flying it and pointed it out in the sky repeating his "kite, kite, kite" refrain.


Alisha got these great shots of Finn with the caboose at the park. He is just plum tuckered here, but it looks like he's shooting a hip album cover.



This is supposed to be an octopus, but it sure looked like a jellyfish to me. Especially as it wrapped itself around the boy.
This last shot pretty much sums it up. Alisha and Finn sitting in the park on a stunning day flying a kite. It was a great little trip.

Finnegan: Ringbearer

Erin Go Bragh

If you name a boy Finnegan, you really oughta take him to the St. Patrick's Day parade. So we grabbed Grandma and hauled her off downtown to see the parade on what had to be one of the nicest days this town has seen in at least 120 days.

My mother is not known for her photographic prowess, but I have to admit she documented the day pretty well and it was a good time had by all.


Finnegan's favorite moment was either the giant white dog we met or the civil war re-enacters firing their muzzle-loaders. He wanted to follow them for the rest of the parade.






Miss Indiana was especially kind to take a shot with the boy, even if he seems a little stern. But when you're mama's as pretty as his, it's hard to be too impressed with beauty queens.

Even grandpa got a little irish spirit at the end of the day.

Snow Shovelling

You just gotta hope this boy keeps his enthusiasm for the snow shovel with him into his teens.

On a snowy day alone in a house with the boy and Horton Hatches the Egg gets you this.

Wrote most of this in my head as I changed over laundry then posted it to facebook:

Spencer Valentine wonders if it's ever happened to you upon reading much Seuss to your child under two.

Have you noticed your speech patterns evolving to mimic storybook rhythms and rhymes idiomatic.

Over coffee. Through brunch. As I shovel the snow. I hear it and speak it without realizing its so.

In compact car or kitchen or in front of my screens, Ted Geisel’s influence practically screams.

Thanks to Horton, a Grinch, green eggs and ham, ham, ham, ham.

I think I could throttle that damn Sam I Am.

Is there a support group or a pill my doc could prescribe?

Google can’t show me one, so I think I’ll imbibe.

He’s just 16 months, years more Seuss to get through.

Mayzie, Lorax, hatted cat, a billion or so Whos.

I’d best settle in, the Doc’s got a lot more to teach us.

Finn, maybe someday a sibling, will likely soon ask me what the hell a Sneetch is.

Random Sights of Christmastime

First Haircuts Suck

I felt like the guy who plays violin outside the gas chamber. The poor guy trusts me. He likes me. I bring him to a colorful fun looking place. It has a little jungle gym even. I pick him up and sit him in a shiny toy car. We put the larges bib he's ever seen on him. He's gotta be thinking, "This is awesome! Dunno what we're eating but it must be big and messy? That Dad guy is a little bit of alright."

Then the snipping begins and it's right in his ear. And he is certain that he is back in the emergency room again getting stitches.
Did I mention that he had just minutes before had his stitches removed? Did I mention that he fell down and hit his head and got stitches last week? Well, he did. There you are all caught up.Anyway, he was pretty inconsolable about the whole situation. Even a remote control in his hand did little to ease his ill temper.
But in the end there was a blue balloon and a nap. He bounces back pretty well.

Old Things Are New Things If You Son Has Never Seen Them Part III: The Resurrection of Seabiscuit

Don't tell me miracles don't happen. In our house we spell miracle G-R-A-N-D-P-A. If you are among the small cast following this blog you will remember that when last we left our hero and his mighty steed Seabiscuit, the ancient horse had shed his mortal coil and proceeded on to his eternal reward. All of us were saddened at the passing, especially young Finnegan.

But alas a mysterious figure entered our story. Seabiscuit was taken away and trough the laying on of hands, and no doubt some drilling, gluing and driving of screws, new life was breathed into the old fella.

Who was that masked man who saved our heroic horse. I don't know, but he left behind a silver screw.

Seabiscuit
1964-2009, 2009-?
Yippie-kuy-aye!