I never thought much of the game. Too much standing around, like golf.

Its a bit shocking, still, to remember the little helpless guy I held 6 years ago and then see him out on the baseball field.

He was on the pitcher's mound, not pitching, mind you; its how his age group plays.

I watched with mild interest as he put his hands on his thighs and got into your typical baseball stance. They never covered that in practice as far as I saw.

He also began drawing lines in the dirt with his shoe, and acting like your typical baseball player. (Next game, I'm going to try and get him a large wad of bubble game.)

He flipped his hat backwards, then received a call from one of the coaches.
"Ender, when you get the ball, throw it to first."

He immediately turned around to the first basemen, eyed him and said, "You'd better be ready."

Where'd that come from?

But all in all the big baseball player still returns home. Even with the stances, the seriousness of the game, and his friends all around him, he snuck out of the dugout to give me a hug and a kiss, and to say goodbye, as I had other duties calling me elsewhere.

That's the boy I raised.

A couple of nights ago, one of our dining room chairs was broken, and obviously so. Even a child could tell that it was broken.

And she did.

Now this is where my wife and I don't always see eye to eye. Its the confusion and uncertainty of the children that I seek to root out; to sharpen their wits, to make them perceive through the veil that is cast upon them in this harsh world.

My wife would say that I am the one sowing the confusion. Creating it out of thin air. Moving the children into the realm of the uncertain. Well, perhaps it is so.

So, the other morning, enter Auralia. At this point, she is two years old, has developed quite the strong will ("From her father." says her mother), and still is working on piercing the veil of confusion that so easily surrounds two year olds.

"Auralia, why did you break my chair?"

She looks confused, as expected, "I didn't break your chair."

"Auralia, why did you break my chair?"

Obviously, defending herself gets her nowhere, so she doesn't answer.

"Do you think I should spank you for breaking my chair? Come here."

So, I'm possibly sowing some confusion, but I do have intent.

"But, I didn't break your chair," she says as she moves a little out of my reach.

"Auralia come here."

She continues in her defense. I guess she thinks that now it is the only thing standing between her and a spanking.

At this point, my wife chimes in, "Why do you do these things to our children?"

Why, indeed. To pierce the veil of confusion; to make them confident that their father will only punish the things that they do, and not the things that they do not do.

Auralia has arrived.

"Auralia, did you break my chair?"

"No."

"Auralia, did you break my chair?"

"No."

Auralia, did you break my chair?"

"Yes."

Hmmm... "Why did you break my chair?"

"Because I wanted to, dad."

Check and mate. Its the grinding of those intangible gears that I love.

Of course I gave her an extremely hard spanking.. Wait, no I didn't. I just laughed and hugged her as my wife rolled her eyes.

What then, will happen tomorrow?

Three syllables followed by four.
(followed by 1)

SAND
refences both
the Covenantal "Sand of the Seashore"
the Planet Arrakis

Solomon from the only King of Israel to hold all the promised lands.
Atreides from the book Dune (mixture of Sci-Fi and Fantasy)
Nahum from the prophet.
Doe from his father.

Weighing in intially at 10lbs 4 oz, he deserved another middle name.

Solomon

The current winners are:

Frederick Alexander Doe
    'Ender'
    Ender's Game
    FAD as in fad.
Isabelle D'Anerys Doe
    A Game of Thrones
    IDD as in the ego, or superego.
Genesis Auralia Doe
    'Auralia'
    Auralia's Colors
    GAD as in Gadzooks or an expression of wow!!
    (note: Auralia's colors is in the process of being published, and was written by my bother-in-law Jeffery Overstreet and edited by my big sister Anne)

Here are the rules:

3 syllables then 4 syllables

One of the names has to be a distinctive character in a work of literature.

We’ve got sci-fi, fantasy, and a children’s story already… so another type of work would be good.

Preferably, the names would create an acronym that could be interpreted to mean something:

Biblical names are good, if well, they are good.

We'll submit the names to a select jury for final approval, and the winner gets a copy of Ender's game, a Game of Thrones, and Auralia's colors.

Oh, and yes, I am on the jury.

Happy naming!!

So, its Tuesday night, and Isabelle's birthday. I have just gotten home from picking up a kitten for her (hoping that indeed she has moved beyond this stage)

Well, I place the kitten (Goldie as thr girls like to call him, while I scramble around for some appropriate name from a good book) in the brown bathroom, which is right near the back door.

The cat is quiet long enough for us to set the table and get to eating. Everything is good so far; the cat can still be a surprise.

Then the meowing begins. We try to cover it by talking loudly and coughing, etc; does this work, of course not.

Then the twist of trust begins, and the kids take that twist for granted. I sort of imply (without explicitly stating it) that the cat is outside the backdoor and we will wait to let him in until everyone is done with their dinner.

Now, this has been fused into the kids minds: Cat is out back door.

Completely fused, like an alloy.

The cat continues to make noise, and Isabelle is leaning out from the table to see if she can catch a glimpse of the cat (underneath the back door of course).

Did I say fused?

What then, does Isabelle see?

Well, it depends on your perspective.

She sees a small foot sticking out from under the bathroom door.

An adult might think, "That is a cat's foot."

Isabelle however thinks, "The cat is outside, I've been told so. What kind of foot could that possibly be."

She turns and almost screams, "I just saw a monster foot!!"

Ender, nonchalantly replies, "I'd like to think of it as being a friendly monster."

Auralia gets up to open the bathroom door and see this monster for herself.

---

Sure, we the adults were right, factually. At least this time.
But they had more fun. And probably still do.

"Boy, listen," I say, indicating the preaching preacher.
"I am dad. Actually, I am enjoying it."
Then a pause.
"Actually, this is the first service I've ever enjoyed."

--Well of course, the dad in me both cringes and rejoices at the same time. Cringing that the boy hasn't ever enjoyed a "service" before, rejoicing that he did indeed enjoy a serivce now; I smile and try not to laugh as the people behind me snicker.

Its all good until the boy decides to reveal his enjoyment of the service to the preacher man.

And then its all in the phrasing.

"This is the first service of yours that I have enjoyed."

-----

One of them, of course, goes along with her big sister and brother, without fail, everytime.

The other sister, kind of understands teasing, but cannot appreciate it fully yet.

So, we are out back, the four of us. Its hot, the fireflies are starting to appear as dusk falls around us, like some translucent fog.

Off in the distance, a hawk spins in slow circles. The cicadas have started their evening chants and crickets join the competition.

It is a perfect time for ice cream.

So, I say, "Anyone who doesn't want to come in with me and have some ice cream, raise their hand."

Dutifully, I raise my hand.

Ender doesn't even twitch. Isabelle, focusing on something else, says, "Did you say ice cream?" And Auralia, raises her arm, just for her dad.

Then she espies Ender and Isabelle and lowers her arm again.

Well, I've lost round one, but there's always a round two.

Again, I speak, "Anyone who is named Ender doesn't get any ice cream."

The girls smile, and so does Ender, as we start heading in.

I look at Ender and say, "Didn't you hear what I said, Ender."

He looks at me straight-faced and says, "I'm not Ender; I'm Gully."

Where he got the name Gully, I don't know. Why he chose the name Gully, I don't know.

But I do know that Gully got an extra scoop of ice cream that night.

Where and when are excluded to protect the identities of those involved. Details reflect the feel of the experience, not necessaryily the verbatim words and actions.

So there I was, standing outside the church before service; just me, an elder, and a friend.

The elder began coughing.

Of course being me, I had to say something wry, so, I said, "Your really need to stop smoking."

The elder paused and kind of looked strangely at me.

My friend piped in with, "Its always tough to change brands. Makes me cough too. You switching to Marlboro lights."

Now to understand the elder, you must understand the person. He is soft spoken, extremely careful and meticulous in most everything he does. It may have occured to him, at some point, in a different life, to smoke. But probably not in this one. So the absurdity of implying that he was smoking was evident, at least to me and my friend. But perhaps not to him; or perhaps it was.

With a cool glance at my friend, and as somber a face as he usually wears, he turns to me and says, "Cigarettes with filters are for girls."

What could I do? He's an elder. And, well, I agreed.

Its so easy to see things from our own perspective. I this, and me that.

Well, while many people may not be able to see things from another's perspective, I would be willing to wager that even fewer people would be able to see things from a non-human perspective.

For all you weakend and disturbed by Isabelle's cat exploits, this story is not for you. It includes pain and torture. Yes, reader it even includes death. Please stop reading now if the death of something that breathes the same air as us is unconscienable to you.

But it does include hope. It includes a young child's innocent perspective on the death of non-humans. It includes her ability to see through the eyes of something other than what we are, to be them, and to wonder why the cruel fates are stalking them.

So I ask Isabelle what she did today.

She says, "We poisoned ants."
And I aksed her what she thought of that.

Her face becomes animated and she says,
"The ants were saying,
'Oh no, what's happening.'
'We're dying. Please help us.'
'We've been poisoned.'
'Don't let us die.'"

With her typical elvish grin, she smiles at me and wonders off into other parts of the house to play.

She didn't tell me what kind it was. She also forbade the boy to tell me what kind it was.

Well, he comes up to me and says, "I really, really want to tell you what kind of cake mommy made you."

"No, boy. I don't want to know."

"Please, daddy. Let me tell you."

"Boy, no."

"How about if I tell you what kind of cake it isn't?"

"Hmm. Okay."

"Its not chocolate."

"Okay."

"And its not crappy."

-------------

As a parent, I wonder what insight my children have into my head. Was Ender precognating the possibility that I might think that since it wasn't chocolate, it might be crappy? Or was he taking that assumption upon himself.. Not chocolate but not crappy.

------------

And for those of you still reading on, despite my attempts to bore you with my children's tales, the cake had chocolate frosting and was, well, it wasn't chocolate and it wasn't crappy.

Leave me a comment saying “interview me.” The first five commenters will be the participants.
I will respond by asking you five questions.
You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. (Write your own questions or borrow some.)
I got linked to this chain by way of Phil, who has asked me five questions. Below are the questions and my answers:

Alright, this is actually a decently tough one. Currently, as a job (not a career), I operate in the world of software development. Why did I choose this? I suppose the quick and easy answer is that I could learn technical crap at an alarming rate, I have no degree to speak of, it was decently challenging at first, and the money was good.

I've operated (whether from right convictions or not) on the idea that I can be a "Christian" employee anywhere, so I didn't have any compunctures about devoting my "career" time to software development.

One of the main things that led me down the software road was the challenge of learning new things, which now seems to be rather boring. I suppose its akin to climbing a big mountatin. Sure there are other peaks, but none as satisfying as that inital huge challenge. And then there's the fact that I like people much more than computers which kinda messes up my whole career choice.

I suppose I am rambling and not really answering the question.

The easiest and most simple answer is the glorification of God.

That's my most important thing. However, a lot of other considerations enter the mix. Money is one. For the church and for the family (not necessarily in that order... I haven't ferretted that out yet.) Another is influence exerted. This includes all sorts of things such as atmosphere (and a realistic view of how it affects me), co-workers (and how they affect me). Then there is consideration for how fulfilling the job is. An unfulfilling job is my bane.... but one I've learned to live with in certain circumstances throughout my life. I don't like debt more than I don't like an unfulfilling job.

So, I guess if I could choose a direction, independent of what I see as my financial responsibilites, I'd probably do full-time work at the church and with my family.

2) Why do you blog?

Right now, I mostly blog to embed some of the things that my children do in my own mind and to share them with others. I've considered going the serious introspection route as many others have done, but haven't gone there yet. The stream of conciousness thing is, ummm, out for me.

3) What are the factors in your life that have contributed most to your personality?

That's a tough one. I would say the good restraint portion of me (if there is such a thing) came from my parents. The exuberance of my life comes directly from understanding my position in Christ and that positions unassailability. The sarcasm and joking probably comes from two places: Hell and my siblings. Since I am often not as restrained as I should be, I would say that is me not having shed the old man, and since I can be quick sometimes in good ways, that comes from years of sharpening under the loving, but sometimes painful thumb of my siblings.

4) What counts as “success” in life?
A good death, in which, people's view of me is that, "He was a servant of Jesus Christ."
Of course some "success" is not up to me, but I'd really also love to have all of my children belong to the kingdom. Hmmm... maybe that one is first. Either way, they are coeval in my mind.

5) Where is a location, foreign or domestic, that you would like to visit, and why?
Austria. It is the birthplace of the tonality that is most commonly used in music today. Its history is rich with both musical mathemiticians (of whom I am suspect) and passionate musicians. It also is a beautiful place and seems like a rather isolated country on the world-front. Which is good, I guess, unless you are a theonomist or a politician. Or have a call to interact with the world as a whole.

I mean, check out the Sound of Music. Is that some beautiful scenery or what?

Sometimes the kids pray.

And this morning, Ender's final statement before "In Jesus Name, Amen" was..

"And please help mommy to have a good attitude when she yells at us."

Most often, myself or my wife prays.

Sometimes one of the kids prays.

And often, both the boy and the elder girl pray.

So the boy ends his prayer with "And please help Isabelle to not be disobedient and listen to her mommy and daddy."

Then its the elder girls turn. "And please help Auralia not to be naughty."

Auralia, only 18 months, looks up from the food she is already eating, smiles, and resumes eating.

Blissfully ignorant.

Its kinda like a reprise of the star wars kid. But on drugs.

I realized this yesterday morning.

My wife and I were talking about some power-line workers who had left their unmanned truck parked in the middle of our road; not allowing anyone to enter or leave the neighborhood.

I used the term "slackers" to describe them.

Which immediately bounced through my sons neural paths made some connections and brought forth his speech, "Kinda like cops who eat doughnuts and do paperwork."

He later ammended "paperwork" to "read the paper".

My eyes got wide and I asked the boy where he had heard such a thing. Of course, I surmised, from TV or friends at school. No way it could be anywhere else.

The boy replied, "Pastor Bob". Well, no he didn't, but that would have been nicer than what he really said which was, "You."

I kind of chuckled. Kind of. I couldn't think of a time where I would have said something like that in front of the boy. I mean; I rarely yell at my wife in front of the children, and almost always am inarticulate when I lose my temper, so I am at least careful. (Those comments are tongue-in-cheek and don't necessarily reflect reality... necessarily).

So I asked him when he had heard this.

"In San Antonio, while driving to the coffee shop, last year."

Do I remember it? No.
Should I? Got me.

So, my son's memory is scary, and I have to watch out for my cast away comments. They will be picked up.

And as a good father, I had to correct my previous statements and rectify the situation of the cast away comment.

"Now, son. Don't say that. You know it isn't nice. Even if daddy did say that. What you should say instead is... Kinda like policemen who eat doughnuts and do paperwork. They don't like to be called cops."