More Child Labor Law Violations

It is a good thing Parker enjoys working so much. And it certainly doesn't hurt that he loves tractors. So when his Great Uncle said he wanted some help cutting his grass, we hired him out. But don't worry, he gets his cut (all he wanted was to ride the tractor).

Child Labor: A Little Green Thumb

Recently, we have made a decision to get something out of our investment in Parker's Childhood. Honestly, we have been operating in the red; changing diapers, feeding and clothing him, buying him toys and books, and giving him the lavish amount of candy that he demands on a daily basis. So, we put him to work. He is now the Chief Landscaper of the Hansen Estate.

Making Mountains out of Mole Hills

To be honest with you, I don't really know if he is getting up or going down either. He may be digging a whole. Really I just don't know.

Football Star

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the great hope for American soccer, Parker Adam Hansen. (He'll be a real threat just as soon as he can learn how to keep himself from pooping in his pants after running full tilt for 15 minutes.)

And Still They are not Safe

To the innocent creatures caged, Parker & Cooper appear quite docile and meek. However, the rabbits should count themselves amongst the most blessed of all creatures, having shelter and refuge from two demons whose fury and anger knows no bounds. If there were indeed no separation between the aggressor and the potential victims, these demons would attach with great ferocity (or maybe they would just run away scared of the little bunnies, really that is probably more likely than not).

Parker's Unspoken Truths - Part One

"My dad is an architect, (really he is an intern architect, which means that he gets to draw stairs, windows and urinals for a living) and a darn adequate one at that. And while I share his same talents, (and anal obsession for perfection at the expense of others sanity) I have a greater sense of ambition. To me, designing buildings is only one step above building with legos, or tinker toys (and let's face it, any two year old can do that). I want to create things that move, and move fast, things that make a lot of noise and call attention to itself, things that have complex pieces and need more advance methods of assembly to be put together; something like sports cars or school buses. And just to make my dad feel better about all of this, and to remind him how lucky he is to have me for his son I'm going to let him think that he is teaching me everything I need to know about design and building (but don't worry, I won't listen to any of it.)"

Running Punks

Recently I told Parker that Patrick and I were going to run a 15K in November and would start training in earnest. He burst into a fit of laughter that immediately brought him to tears! (The nerve of that little punk!) "Daddy," he said, "you better start running now, it might take you till then to finish." (It stung, but then again the truth always does.) "Tell you what," he continued, "Copper and I will run it for you, and spare you the embarrassment."

Patterns of Perfection

For those of you who don't know me, I am just a wee bit OCD. And a little bit anal retentive as well. I like these clean and simple, not complicated. Straight lines are better than curves, and so on. Simplicity if beauty. I suppose I was brainwashed in architecture school, or maybe it is just true that architects are right, all of the time, about everything. Whatever it is, my tendencies are to further the indoctrination and help others see the world as I do, a chaos waiting for someone to subdivide it and put it in the appropriate folder. So all I need to say further is that I am proud of my son, who is already picking up on the fact that chairs, when lined against the wall in perfect repetition, have a certain type of beauty to them.

Hunting for Quality, not Quantity

Don't get me wrong, Parker is faster than spider-man, but when it comes to hunting for Easter Eggs he moves very slowly. He likes to look for the eggs in spots where he knows they are least likely to be smashed or cracked by the other children who are all looking to get more Easter eggs than everyone else. Parker simply wants to find the best, the coolest, and most impressive egg and then he will flaunt it, and taunt them. Perhaps he appreciates all of the time craftsmen and Easter Bunnies put in to making those amazing eggs, or maybe he is just conserving his energy for the best part of the hunt, the inevitable destruction of all things Easter Egg.

Chillin with Dirtbag

"Papa is a dirtbag." At least that is what Parker thinks about it. Of course, it is only fair that I mention that I have caught Papa on more than one occasion coaching Parker on nicknames for the entire family: Mommy is "Big Meanie", Daddy is "Full of #@*!", Grandma Necaise is "The crazy woman who never sits down" and Grandpa Necaise is the "Dirtbag" which I spoke of earlier" (everyone else is just known as "stupid").

Anne, Roy & Evan

Parker very early formed in his mind, an understanding of the concept of association. He would see a rubber duck and say, "duck, quack quack." Should he see another duck, he would first group them together, and then say, two ducks, quack quack." He understands that all items with which he plays are "toys" and also that all who play with him are his "buddies." Recently, his ability to associate has increased significantly with the added understanding that two unlike objects can have a more abstract relationship to one another. As Stacey dropped me off at work several days ago, one of my bosses drove up right behind us. Parker saw her get out of the car, and immediately he recognized her, "Anne, Anne, Anne, Anne," he then said without prompting or seeing anyone else, "Roy (this is Anne's husband and partner in their firm)" and then concluded by saying, "Evan, Evan (Evan is Parker's buddy pictured above)." It was amazing to see him understand that each of these people are individuals and have a unique identity, but also belong to one another as a family. (Next we are going to work on the concept of authority.)

The Growing Artist - Part Five

This is an example of Parker's latest artistic endeavor: performance motion capture photography.

In Memphis Part Four

On Parker's last day in Memphis he finally got to see what he had been waiting for, the city skyline (actually, it is what I really wanted to see, but I had to experience it vicariously through these photos.) He and his Grandmeh strolled around the penthouse roof top plaza enjoying the cool crisp air of Memphis (notice I didn't mention the adjective "fresh".) It was here that Parker experienced the strangest thing about Memphis all together, the penthouse & the roof top plaza didn't belong to the buildings owners, or to some important client or guest, but to the pets. You don't have to be a student of real estate to understand that this arrangement is quite nice (and pricey), but yet somehow the ducks can afford it. Parker says, "in a town where businessmen get paid too much to do too little, it shouldn't seem too odd that pets get such a good deal for such a short life."

In Memphis Part Three

On day three, Parker had a lunch date with the Director of Rooms of the Peabody Hotel (which I though was odd enough), and afterwards had a tickle throw down on Parker's gianormously proportioned bed (see part one). When Parker told me about this, he first assured me that he kicked the director's butt ("tickled him till he wet his pants" to use his exact words), and then proceeded to report that in Memphis all of the business executives find trivial and meaningless ways to fill their days. He further postulated that in Memphis, the important people might be getting paid too much to do too little. I promised him that this sort of thing was not anomalous to Memphis.

In Memphis Part Two

On his second day in the somewhat strange city of Memphis, Parker noted to me that he thought the situation with the automobiles was quite odd. I said, "Of course, the drivers are willing to go 30 miles over the speed limit, despite the limit, the maze of one way streets down town is bewildering, the licensing exam is a joke, and it is almost impossible to get to Graceland without passing three Shoney's on Elvis Presley Park Way" (the king works at one of those as a fry cook). Parker responded, "while those items are mildly amusing, (and the legitimacy of your claim about Mr. Presley is questionable at best) I was referring to the fact that there are tubes that cross over the street from building to building. Really, Dad, what purpose do they serve? Its not like it ever gets cold like it does in Minnesota. Have they mistaken Memphis for Minneapolis?"

In Memphis Part One

Some say that Memphis is the best of the South, and I wouldn't disagree; necessarily. The reality is that in Memphis, they do things a little bit differently. For instance, people in Memphis pay far too much respect to a dead (supposedly), washed up, fat, mediocre musician than any one else in their right mind. They visit his out of date, over rated, not quite a mansion of a home by the droves. They also have named more than one road after him. Really, enough is enough. However, in an effort to more fully understand the mind set of those who live in Memphis, I sent Parker to do a little bit of digging (or playing and laughing, whatever gets him the story). On day one, Parker was pleased to report two phenomena of the Memphis mind set. First, an unexplainable love for the King (as described above), and second, the disproportionate sizing of beds. Apparently, the smaller the person, the larger the bed (Parker had this one all to him self, and he isn't even a fat, bloated musician).

She Needs the Rest Most

This doesn't happen too often, only because Parker is smart enough to realize that if he took advantage on a more regular basis, we might catch on to his gig. He goes all day, refusing to take a decent nap, wearing his mother into the ground. Then, when it is bedtime, he lays in his bed and has an hour long conversation with his love monster (it is real, not imaginary). His mother, being worried that he is to tired to go to sleep, gets him out wraps him in a blanket, and then sits down with him. Always, does the plan work. Mom falls asleep, exhausted from the days events, and Parker gets to enjoy the quite of the house all to himself.

The Growing Artist Part Four

My wife (on the left) has most recently taken the opportunity to teach my son (on the right) how to dance. She explains, "white boys simply don't know what to do with their arms and hands while they shimmy and shake!" So she spends the better part of five minutes teaching Parker how to not look like a tall stick while he dances (not that anyone will ever mistake him for being tall). Never the less, developing good dance skills is key to getting girls (oh I mean to becoming a complete artist).

Reaching Great Heights

Several weeks ago, we ran into a women's softball team while waiting in line at the Olive Garden. Naturally, my son was a hit amongst them. He made them dance and sing and act like fools for the better part of half an hour. At one point, a player gave him a piece of trash and he ran to the garbage can and slammed it home. THE CROWD WENT WILD (really, you would have thought Parker was Lebron James). At this moment I recognized my son's future NBA potential (and simultaneously it's limit as imposed by potential for growth). So, I hired a friend of mine (who also has some experience as a pediatrician), and have begun a rigorous 17 year physical therapy schedule. You see, the best money goes to the guys with the 40+ inch vertical leap, not the little white guy throwing in buckets from 40 feet out. The good doctor has guaranteed me that through a continuous series of exercises and procedures he will turn Parker into the best 6' 10" power forward in the history of sports.

More about Mr. Cooper

Mr. Cooper is a good friend to fathers (really any father who is lucky enough for Mr. Cooper to be the best friend of his son is truly lucky). Mr. Cooper and Mr. Parker are great friends and their relationship has evolved to the point were they address each other by name (Barber & Poopter), actually play with one another, and are openly giddy anytime you even mention their names to one another. This being the case, Cooper (Poopter) is probably the only reason why Parker (Barber) will live to see his 18th birthday. Cooper's (Poopter's) father, Blaine, has seen the future and it is real. One day (or probably on many occasions) Parker (Barber) will attempt to engage in some activity that will be dangerous or life threatening, and Cooper (Poopter) will talk sense into my son's hard headed head. Cooper (Poopter), you see is OCD (Overly Cautions Disorder), and every time Parker (Barber) tries to drink a whole gallon of milk in 20 minutes Cooper (Poopter) will be the one to explain that, "the milk will curdle in the stomach when exposed to acid, and the stomach will reject that quantity of spoiled, curdled milk if ingested in that short of period of time." If Parker (Barber) should ever decide to jump off a 30 foot bridge into a shallow creek, Cooper (Poopter) will be the one to say, "You do realize that you could break every bone in your legs if you hit the water wrong." Parker (Barber) will inevitably one day decide to jump of the roof of the house using a bed sheet as a parachute, and Cooper (Poopter) will be the one to say, " Ok, but when the sheet gets caught in the tree, and your neck gets caught in the sheet, and you get caught in the air with no way down, don't come crying to me." I love that boy (Poopter, that is).