Just call a thief a thief

We're leaving the house when my 5 year old saw the neighbors window busted. He said, "Wow, it rained so hard that it broke that car's window!", "No son, someone broke into their car." You know what came next "Daddy, why did someone break their window?" (You would think that at 5 years old he would know these things already, especially living in Oakland) I don't want to simply say, "Because they are broke" or worse "some people just steal. We call them thieves!" or even assume "They are probably looking for something to sell to buy drugs." So instead, I start explaining human behavior theories, highlighting environmental factors as primary determinants, and finally summarizing humanity and our concepts of good and bad as not being core attributes to peoples' nature, but subjective value judgements on behavior patterns.

He let me finish completely before saying: "Oh. So Daddy, what will we do if someone breaks into our car and steals something?" In a split second, I realize, in my head, 2 things: 1. calling the cops is moot except to have the city add me as a casualty to their stats, especially since the deductible is $500 and they are not going to dust for prints and interview the neighbors... 2. In 5 years my son has learned to do what it has taken me 36 years to do: Get to the point. "Well son, I guess we would just fix the window."

give me my dollar back

I can't stand gimmicks. Attempt #1: First Safeway makes their checkers ask you if you want to donate to breast cancer or muscular distrophy, forcing me to make a choice to NOT give to this clearly worthy cause, out loud in front of everyone in the line. Not cool. Now I either a. feel guilty for not giving, or b. don't even blink, not giving a damn about sick women or children. Neither of those sit well with me. Of course I could say yes and give the dollar but then I will feel a. resentful for the sneaky intrusion on my shopping experience, or b. like my family is $1 poorer in the worse recession of my lifetime. All I want is my groceries, that's all. I already lied to the brotha in front of the store telling him I didn't have the change. Well technically I didn't have the exact change he was asking for and if I did, what I meant was that my family already had dibbs on all my available cash. Attempt #2: Oh, and now at the CVS when you swipe your card, they automatically prompt you to donate a dollar to some other cause and you again are forced to say "NO" to sick women and children.

Now I know we are supposed to have prosperity consciousness and give cheerfully and think abundantly so that the universe can return all that I give 10 fold, etc. etc. and I wholeheartedly believe all that. I also believe that a fool and his money shall soon be parted, so for now, I say "booo" to the execs at Safeway and CVS for hustling customers for the charities that their executives are on the board of.

The Dance Party

It's a dance party in the living room. A regular Payne family ritual. Michael Jackson is cranking. Elijah is outdoing his self with jumps and spins. Me and Kafi are doing moves from the early 90's. Cameron is running in circles screaming. This is the point when Kafi says "move Elijah, Daddys going to do the worm!" That was my que to dust off my partystopper. I used to do "the worm" (also known as the centipede) as my climax move in my younger days, much younger. So without a moments hesitation, I stop doing the robot and hit the floor so smooth, Kafi was like "Wow! Daddy did that gooood! Do that again Daddy!" My whole family was in awe. This was a dance partay!

30 minutes later after I bathe and clothe the boys, the shooting pain in my forearm cannot be ignored but why is it hurting? Did I hit my arm on something? Then I realize in an instant. I just dove in the air, (twice!) landing on my arms, absorbing my full adult weight and now my arm hurts. Then a deeper realization washes over my mind: I am almost 36 years old, I haven't played basketball since Bush was president, I can't remember the last time I even sprinted let alone did some push ups, I measure my daily exercise with a pedometer! Damn.

I share my realization with my loving caring spouse that my epic dance move caused a minor injury and that it took my 21 year old mind 30 minutes to realize that my body is actually 35. She laughed so hard she stopped breathing a couple of times. I never got hurt before doing the worm but I never has so much fun doing it either. Yup, I'm getting older but I am loving the ride!