I have always liked math. My mother likes math, too, and was always my homework partner when it came to numbers. So it is that I have taken up the mantle and am now Kina’s math homework partner, calculating how many “10 cm rulers” it takes to approximate “Jamie’s” height. It’s fun to see how Kina’s mind works, and good practice for me to step back and stay quiet when she’s thinking. Eventually, she reasons through a problem, which is always very impressive—even if the math is simple. I’m excited to work through this year’s problems with her (math and otherwise), because it reminds me of what it feels like to learn: a little stretchy at the edges, and well-paired with some good silence. Thanks, mom.

dad

To be fair, I have been looking for a little Quality Time with Kina, who is trying on “what if we just don’t hang out with Daddy” for size. Reading with Mommy, school walk with Mommy, bathtime with Mommy; it adds up (for me and Mommy both). So yesterday, after lunch, when I had to go to the bathroom, Kina came along for first dibs—but was surprised to find that I wasn’t just there for a little chat and gossip. Maybe this is how bathrooms work? A respite for reconciliation? A demilitarized zone for working out our stuff? Restrooms: come for the pee, stay for the quality time.

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Thank you, climate emergency, for sparing us for the latter half of Saturday, so that Kina could hop onto the back of my bike and ride with us out to the West Side Fest (first one, I think?) to see a rapping planet Earth, some double-dutch jumprope, a fully-functional letterpress and screen-printing setup, and God’s Finest Face Painter. Toss in a little pasta and a carousel with no line, and you have the makings of Kina’s favorite weekend in recent memory. We watched the sun set over a playground on the Hudson River and had a nice ride home. The end.

I really love this Parade. Bold background, cut-out pizza cat, glitter glue, and random pepperoni everywhere. Enjoy your week.

I once wrote about a coffee shop that Kina refers to as “cheddar cheese and bacon”, because they sell a breakfast sandwich that I’d refer to as a bacon, egg, and cheese—but I can’t, because I really don’t accept cheddar cheese on a traditional bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. It doesn’t melt properly, it congeals even more poorly after it sort of melts, and it just sort of tastes like acid and salt on a sandwich that, let’s face it, has plenty of salt.

Whenever I have attempted to introduce Kina to a proper bacon, egg, and cheese—which is to say (and I’m not accepting arguments at this time) a sandwich with not-too-overcooked bacon, one egg either fried medium-hard or scrambled (in a pinch), and a single slice of unctuous, gooey, supernaturally-yellow American cheese—my daughter has rebuffed both the sandwich and the father offering it. It is, best I can tell, the fault of the cheese. This is my greatest disappointment as a father.

I’m not entirely sure what cheddar cheese is for, because people who like cheese boards never seem to include a cheddar, and it tends to fail in most cooked applications. A soup, maybe? Some sort of scone? In powdered form, it makes for an outstanding mac and cheese—seen in our third headline today about gentle money. All I know is that cheddar cheese is not designed to melt and has no place on a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. Maybe it’s good on a cold ham and cheese sandwich; I don’t eat them, but it’s a logical fit.

I cannot, in any language known to me, convey sufficiently to you how completely over this rainy season I am. I just want to stop coughing and be dry, and for my family to stop coughing and be dry.

Out!

dad

I mean, who really knows?

dad

I can’t remember the first time I experienced déja vu, and I still couldn’t tell you why it happens, but when I saw the look on Kina’s face yesterday morning as she recalled me standing in the precise position I had been standing in, with the same stuffed unicorn pressed to the same burgundy shirt I had been wearing, I saw in her eyes a look of gentle shock and discovery that gave me an unusual view into how she understands the world. Don’t get me wrong—Kina still discovers a lot every day, but it’s been a while since she discovered her own mind in a way that she could put words to. It could, of course, be the case that there is another Kina in another universe with another dad holding another unicorn, and that this rediscovery is all part of a more complex set of coincidences. I guess that’s for me and Kina to figure out later.

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Have we talked about the peanut allergy? Let’s just say it: There’s a peanut allergy, and it’s gotten to the point that we can now safely question the severity of the allergy, which means lots of boring time spent hopefully not having allergic reactions to peanut powder while sitting at the allergist’s office. So far, so good. Bodies are weird. Allergists are great. We all get by.

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To be clear, she crossed the pool the short way several times and without assistance, making her one of the most accomplished athletes I have ever met. Shower her with praise.

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Nicky and Kina are both getting so much bigger and more moodily teenaged in spirit, but they remain just sweet little kids who are really into movies about rural witches and steampunk castles.

What else is there to say here? It’s just rainy. Sorry about the fart.

This morning was a good morning to have nothing much to do, other than dress up like a flight attendant and complain about the cool autumn breeze.

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Today’s edition is all sneaky vibes. Extremely esneeky.

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If it is Thursday, it must be Saturday.

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I really had Kina pegged as a bouncy ball chair girl, given her history as a bouncer, but this wouldn’t be the first time she surprised me. Neither of us, for the record, would be a boring chair kid.

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She really dodged a bullet there. Could have been eating cafeteria sushi for three years straight.

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When you’re six, there is nothing quite like walking randomly into Tompkins Square Park to find a troupe of amateur actors performing an antifascist musical about the subway. This is why we live here.

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Usually, when we visit Governor’s Island, as we did yesterday with Kina’s friend Runa, we rent a bike for Laurea (who does not own one), and I squire Kina about on the back of my bike—which is built to squire Kina around, after all. Yesterday, though, Kina was insistent that we rent a bike with training wheels so that she could ride next to Runa, who would also rent a bike with training wheels, and they would terrorize the island together.

I balked at first, having seen Kina ride a bicycle only three times in her life—to a rather underwhelming effect, which I know sounds mean, but really, she wasn’t going anywhere fast. But Kina persisted, and so a bike with training wheels was procured for her, and she pedaled off gamely in Runa’s wake.

This quickly evolved. By the time we were snarfing down hot dogs, Kina and Runa were doing long, looping laps of the car-free paths of Governor’s Island on their own—and quickly. By the midafternoon, Kina was riding fast enough that I could pedal at my relatively normal calm pace, as she dodged in front of and behind Runa and her older sister.

Today was not quite fully warm, but it was not at all cold, either, which she seemed to think was fine. Tolerably, mostly warm.

dad

Mary Kay over here.

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It doesn’t stop, Kina.

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To be fair, it was an excellent haircut.

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All Kina wants is to be able to say she knows somebody on the playground without her parents making a whole deal of it. Is that really so much to ask?

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I’m not trying to say that we talk a lot in this house, but it makes sense that Kina finds real joy in speech. The older she gets, the better she is at exploring the nuances of her feelings and experiences, which is gratifying to all of us. There are times, maybe, when it maybe feels better to her than it does to us, but I don’t take it for granted. It feels good, to me, for her to talk—on balance, given the alternative. I can wait my turn.

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The Daily Kina would like to remind you that Autumn does not technically begin for another week and change, and that you should continue with your summer protocols until the Autumn Equinox officially arrives. Do not—repeat, do not—purchase Halloween costumes, bust out scarves, drink pumpkin spice lattes, or perform any other customary cold season rituals in a rush to escape this unseasonal humidity and heat; the side effects of moving too quickly into Autumn could result in bored and sad children throughout New York City.

For the purposes of this mandate, “you” shall be construed to include deciduous trees. Keep those leaves high. We have months yet to grow weary and dry. Enjoy the moment.

I was just now trying to find old issues of this newsletter that talked about how conflicted I was about the idea of someday no longer writing The Daily Kina, and I couldn’t find anything—which either means that I’m really bad at search engine optimization or really bad about acknowledging this elephant in the room.

It’s possible, of course, that I’ve mentioned it here or there in the midst of talking about Kina’s weird relationship with time or in one of the many anniversary posts, but it’s more likely the case that I just haven’t mentioned it.

I may have mentioned here or there that I originally planned to do this for a hundred days—which is what I consider the high bar of success for a new hobby—and then planned to go until she started kindergarten, or maybe for a year, or until the vaccines came out, or, or, or, or, or…

It is apparently the case that you “cannot get in trouble” in Mr. Ortiz’s class, but we are following up to confirm these allegations.

dad

Off to the races with this tall person who claims to be my baby daughter.

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She explained to me at bedtime tonight that embarrassing is the same as annoying, and when I tried to point out the ways in which embarrassing somebody is different, she agreed that I was annoying.

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Smoosh.

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You all may feel that a little chill in the evening air signifies the end of summer. For these girls, it is when Futura gets back from Italy. Let the autumn commence.

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Our publisher would like to announce that, having finally tested Covid-negative after nine brutal asymptomatic days, she is declaring our three-person newsroom Covid-free and cleared for beat reporting once again. The masthead will not be taking questions at this time. Thank you for your continued subscription to the Daily Kina. Wear your masks.

It’s back! Parade is back! I bought Kina a box full of adhesive googly eyes for entertainment last week, and she’s put them to good use here on her suspiciously trippy mushroom. One for the ages!

Straight into the middle like a psychopath.

dad

This whole process of being The Sick Family again has been interesting. A lot is different this time around: We know how the virus works, we are fully-vaccinated, we came prepared with tests and food. Similar, of course, are the tedium, the patience, and the isolation.

Now that Laurea and I are negative, we’re able to go into stores and ride subways and see people (in principle, if not in practice). But Kina is still fully asymptomatic and positive, which means that the person to whom friendship means more than anybody else here cannot see her friends. She trades videos with children she knows, but she spends time with us—the only people guaranteed to have full immunity to the strain of Covid she’s waiting out.

In the onset phase, there was lots of iPad time—the kind of iPad time that would summon the wrath of countless parent bloggers, a fearsome amount of iPad time. In those first couple of days, it seems that Kina watched, in her loft bed, the entirety of a Rapunzel show I did not even know existed.

Gotta love that pockets still inspire this sort of wonder.

dad

I don’t remember getting this wound up about class assignments as a kid, but the tree names probably help a lot with the drama.

dad

Over the last few weeks, I have spent literal hours watching Korean ASMR baking videos and memorizing every possible cake baking and decorating technique. The cake I ended up making is a testament to how little you can actually learn from YouTube. Tasted good, though.

dad

Come for the parental slander, stay for the detailed anonymized list of actual crushes.

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This is all going pretty nicely for the kid, in that she has had our undivided attention for five days now. If it wasn’t for the bit where we actually have Covid, I think I’d tell you that we are enjoying ourselves as well. It was a beautiful weekend outside, but you all missed out on the party here at our house. A party full of forts, movies, baking, and intermittent naps. We have been here before, reader; we know how it’s done.

No Parade today. Kina missed the deadline, despite never leaving the house. I’ll give her a pass. Here’s last week’s, which she finished on Monday.

Wear your masks, people!!!

We’re not exactly writing King Lear over here, folks. Good news for the newsletter folks: I’m negative now. Give the rest of my captives a couple more days. I’ll keep her entertained with tummy farts in the meantime.

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The convalescents will not be taking questions at this time. (We are fine, though, thank you.)

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We are getting by. Thanks for the love. Paxlovid works, but it makes your mouth taste funny.

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As most of you know, this esteemed publication was founded in the wake of our first bout with Covid as a family, to stave off boredom and try to find meaning in it all. This time around, we have boxes of rapid tests and know how to isolate effectively, so the boredom is sequestered, as I am in this room, to me. So far, I’ve received at least four notes and one performance of Beethoven’s 9th symphony to keep me occupied. The paper helps, too.

My case is mild, and I have what I need to get better, thankfully, but the spike in cases is real, folks. Wear your masks and kiss your children—not in that order.

dad

This is actually something Kina has hated for a while now. It’s just easier for her to think when we aren’t talking, and if something occurs to her in the middle of a story that one of us is telling, we can see the spark rise and extinguish itself, and then we get an earful. The solution might be to stop talking entirely, so that Kina can think of important things to tell us all the time, but that seems somehow impractical in a house (like ours) of constant talkers. I really do feel her pain, and I’ve spent countless hours trying to backtrack through conversations and other friendly encounters to figure out what it was that caught my fancy; truth be told, I hate it. But I’ve come to live with it—and to accept the wispy shape of my own thoughts. It’ll come to me, much as Kina has. Just have to be patient.

dad

p.s. If you can’t read it, the thing she finally remembered she needed to ask me was, “Was Pokémon alive when you were small?” The answer is no. Sorry for the trouble, Kina.

A real Wonderland is probably something I also wanted when I was six, because it seems like a fun place to be when you’re a kid. As an adult, all I can think about is how stressful it would be to live in constant fear of the local warlord queen.

dad

The peaceful sleep in one’s own bed upon returning from vacation is almost as good as the vacation itself—especially when you barely slept the night before. Kina took great care to memorialize her latest wake-up time in recent memory, drawing an enormous 7:41 on leftover sketch paper while her parents slept for another 45 minutes. Bliss.

In over three years we have never been late with a Parade, and yet there is no Parade today. Our printing facility apologizes; there is a Parade that we will deliver to you tomorrow. It is “not done yet”. Our regrets.

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After the first three random false alarms on our last night in Maine, this really turned into a sort of cruel joke.

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If you have not dug your hole, have you gone to the beach at all?

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If you think about it, motels are just storage units for highways.

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This afternoon, she just went and finished the 150 piece puzzle on her own. Give this kid a MacArthur grant!

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I don’t make ‘em up, I just transcribe ‘em.

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