Uncle Monte

My brother (who has five children of his own) has always been a competitive person. Being 10 years older than myself (or maybe it is 20, really I lose track), he naturally holds the edge in experience, wisdom and potential energy (the latter being the product of being much, much heavier than myself). He has won every competition, official and unofficial, that we have ever had (including an official, "who has the largest nose in the family" contest & an unofficial, "who looks better in a woman's bathing suit" pageant, which in all honesty I could not degrade myself to compete in). And now, he is even trying to steal the love of my own son. Now, I would never accuse him of cheating (although I do believe several public records have), but it may have had something to do with the week's worth of comps he promised Parker at the Peabody.

Remembering Ryan

In case you all had forgotten, The Parker Page is "The Journal of His Father." This meaning that it is really all about me (disclaimer: I am as delusional as I sound). As documented above, everybody loves me & everybody wants to be with me. Parker can't get enough. Wesley wanted to sit next to me all night. Even Graham fell asleep on my chest (probably because he was exhausted from screaming bloody murder for 30 minutes after his father left him in my care). So what, you might ask is the source of my misguided confidence. Do you really have to ask? Look at me. I am painfully beautiful (or maybe just beautifully vain?).

Present Overload

After the holidays wrapped up (pardon the pun) Parker found it a little bit hard to deal with the withdrawal. Often we found him diving into empty boxes, or out in the yard looking under trees. One night I found him wrapping up old toys, then unwrapping them while he exclaimed, "Wow, a new toy." Having undergone intense therapy and extreme behavior modification techniques, he is now finally back to normal (at least normal for someone with me for a parent). To be honest, I have never seen anything like it; not even from drug & caffeine addicts, not even from a dog begging for more food. I don't ever really want to deal with it again (so for all of you reading who have contributed to this behavior - LESS PRESENTS NEXT YEAR!!).

Sexy Cars & Fast talk

(Ok, this time, it is what it looks like) A handsome fellow impresses a crowd of adoring women with sexy cars and fast talk. He had them from the first word, really, but he brought out the cars anyway, just to show off (that's just how he is, always putting you in your place, reminding you that he is the man).

Walking the Grandpa

I know what this looks like. Grandpa takes out the child to walk the dog. But let's be realistic. Walking the dog is all about control. The human controls when the dog walks, when the dog stops, and when the dog goes (#1 & #2). That is why they make leashes and fences. So if walking the dog is about exercising human control, than the same could be said about the Grandfather and the child. You might suspect that the Grandfather is in control, but you would be wrong (you wouldn't even bare any resemblance to being right). The child, first of all, is getting a free ride. He controls where they go, when they stop, how fast they go, and what they look at. He even controls what they talk about. In this case, the child is doing double duty, because he no doubt is responsible for the walking of both the Grandpa and the dog, but has simply delegated the dog to the grandpa (what a slave driver). Just in case you are still skeptical, try imaging it this way. The politician sits within his luxury limousine as his driver & vehicle musters the horsepower to take him to his chosen destination. Everything else is just a detail in the exercise of control.

The Growing Artist - Part Two

Parker's Grandfather has always claimed to play only one instrument, the radio. I am proud to announce that Parker has that one figured out. "Muss, Muss, Muss" (of course meaning, why haven't you turned on the music yet) and "More" (which he says just that clear, meaning turn it up now). I've already given him the warning that my parents gave to me, "you are going to go deaf if you listen to it that loud" (too which I proudly responded, "what was that?"), but he seems to disregard my warnings. Listening to music is certainly not his only interest in that aspect of human art. He is quite adept at many instruments already, and as demonstrated above quite enjoys the piano. He plays each instrument with great fervor, experimenting with the sounds they each make. Often what he plays barely resembles music, (but I guess that is what makes him an artist; his Blatant disregard for structure and an insatiable desire to produce despite any lack of outward interest. I wonder if he is ahead of his time?) but we support his efforts just the same. Who knows, maybe one day he will make it big and can buy me that baby grand I have always wanted.