Matthew, Kina’s swim teacher for the last several months, has not been around for the last five weeks or so. We knew he was an actor and in college, and we assumed that he was simply working on a gig or on the road, but when Laurea asked the lifeguard in passing when Matthew was coming back, her reply was, “He’s not coming back.”
This all happened within earshot of Kina, his most devoted fan, who immediately burst into tears. She has not bonded with either of Matthew’s steady replacements, who are less funny and more intense than Matthew had been. We think she had been counting the weeks until he would return, and learning that he would not return was too much for her to bear.
Laurea convinced her to hop into the pool for a bit, to blow some bubbles and give it a go with her new teacher, but she couldn’t stop crying and eventually asked to leave.
It was too rainy to ride the bike, and the car was locked in the garage, and the L train wasn’t running. A literal perfect storm. Sorry, kid. This is how the pioneers did it.
I didn’t know what to expect from Storyville Mosquito when my brother invited us to see it, but I can assure you it is not what I would have expected, had I expected anything at all. It’s a beautiful puppet show, a sort of opera, a one-take film, and a chance to see Kid Koala play.
Thanks to Ken for the tickies; it was a real gas. Boo to the spider. Mosquito! Mosquito!
This newspaper is proof that, if you listen closely enough, you will find that any given seven year old is likely pitching Inception to you in the living room after dinner.
Runa and Kina seem to know an awful lot about this show that they have clearly not watched in an extremely long time.
I misspelled “Gabby’s” in the headline, which is why the show name is in blue.
I have learned recently just how habitually I say “Yo!” in response to questions and how frequently I use the pet name “Bud” with both Kina and Laurea, and how both of them hate that so very very much. I am sorry to both of you; I seriously do not realize I am doing it.
What I love most about this headline is that it is unclear who the chili is meant to be. Unclear antecedents are the best part of any headline—fight me. Anyhow, there is something vaguely appealing to me about getting snuggled for two hours and then turning into a fantastic pot of chili. It is, of course, equally appealing to stir Kina’s face for hours on end while she opines about life as a bowl of chili, but I didn’t get the snuggles, so moot point.
What I wish you could have seen in the production of today’s Parade is how Kina used it as a means of teaching Laurea how to draw roses. Also, the lily is fantastic.
Yes, there may have been thirty other children performing Taylor Swift songs, knock-knock jokes, and dribbling basketballs, but the applause was all for Kina.
I mean, if you had drunk evaporated milk your entire life and only ever taken showers, you’d talk endlessly about your first fresh milk and hot bath for the rest of your life, too.
RIP Pinky, we hardly knew ye. I mean, literally, I first heard of you yesterday, when Kina said, “We made a grave for Pinky at recess,” which caught me by surprise—as it would anybody, I think.
Maybe Pinky will come back as an animal, as one does. Until then, Kina and her friends will be watering the apple seed they planted for you.
Kina has been waiting to go to the theater with the most avid theater goer that either she and I know for many years now, and she finally hit the jackpot with a trip to The Lion King with my brother Ken. She spent the whole prior day protecting her braids in preparation for the show, and a mani-pedi with Laurea and a walk through Times Square made for just about the perfect day.
She has been singing a random song from The Lion King ever since. I have no idea what it is, because I have never watched anything related to this Disney enterprise, and that is why I’m glad Ken loves theater. Thanks, Uncle Ken!
As today’s headlines might suggest, Laurea spent a good part of the day at the spa, and the only things Kina knows about spas are that Mommy loves the hot saunas and encourages strangers to jump into the cold plunge, screaming at them to “get in there!” People apparently enjoy this. Kina and I are skeptical.
Kina’s erstwhile fascination with the Tooth Fairy was a bit of a surprise. You’d think that kids would quickly pick up on the whole “supernatural being who is said to arrive overnight” pattern, but teeth come out late in a kid’s life, and there aren’t many myths to go around.
The Fairy has visited four times, and four times did she place underneath Kina’s pillow a lengthy and prosaic note, containing probably more money than a tooth is worth. I took great pleasure in writing each of these notes, sneaking in after the clock struck ten to replace her fallen incisor with the Fairy’s gift.
Kina seemed to relish the myth of the Tooth Fairy, and so it came as some surprise last night when Kina (who has not recently lost a tooth, but has discovered a newly-wiggly cuspid) asked—finally—if the Tooth Fairy was real.
It feels like Oatie is always asleep when we get dim sum as a family, but yesterday we just sat and sat and sat and ate and ate and ate until he woke up and got his fill of dumplings and buns. Good thing he ate, too, since we then decamped to a nearby playground for family obstacle course and dance party time. It was the perfect New Year breakfast with the kids.
Later, as you can see, I perfected my popcorn technique by using an alarming quantity of ghee and tossing it with everything I love dearly (salt, sugar, and MSG). I am proud of both the real popcorn I made and this drawing of a popcorn kernel.
I’ve been a day behind with these emails for almost a week, so you’re getting two today—the first of which is about Kina’s beloved child friends from Philly, who always love coming to New York because they get to see Kina and invariably jump on trampolines.
The middle Saturday of every Lunar New Year in Manhattan’s Chinatown is “Super Saturday”, when all the local king fu schools bring out their lion troupes and walk the streets to collect red envelopes from local businesses and—if they are lucky—Kina and her small friends. We saw lions of all different colors and sizes (kids too!) and even one troupe that climbed up to the second story of a building on Baxter Street to fetch a cabbage and some money from a pole stretched over the road. Kina and Futura got to pet that dragon on the nose after they gave it two bucks in a red envelope. Great value. Happy new year!
I mean, there wasn't exactly a lot of snow to begin with, and she seemed happy enough to sleep. Ten hour fever and we were out of the woods. Happy (retroactive) Valentine's Day!
I told her twenty custom messages would be a lot, but I am also the guy who busted out the hot glue gun and metallic ink for the stamped letters, so I’m not quite sure who’s walking the walk here.
I don’t know why I was so surprised that letting Kina put her own to-do list together every night would make chores work. It’s just foreign to me. Glad she’s figuring this out now.
I think it is a little ironic that Kina’s internal arithmetic model for third grade just yields a slightly-diluted second grade. What she would like you to take away, though, is that she is very advanced in many ways. And she is.