Old School, New School

I'm an 'old-school' guy.
One can tell...I haven't had as much as some kids today.
And I AM a high school graduate.
I'm talking about the schooling kids get today.
Now more than ever.
We were lucky to count to five, never mind to 100 like what's mandated now, by the time we started kindergarten.  Don't even get me started on this "new math" thing.
Pre-school, or pre-K, wasn't around back then.  At least not to my knowledge.  We were at home until age five, and then hopefully we were ready by the time we were off to Kindergarten.
But this is the real world we live in today.
With most parents today working outside the home just to make ends meet, daycare has gone from being a luxury to a necessity.
Some real 'old-schoolers' still think they have all the answers, though.
They say a woman's place is in the home.  Yeah, right.  If I tell my wife to get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich, she might comply...but afterwards, I would most likely never want (or be able) to eat again.
Even I know better than that.
They say it can be done on one paycheck.  Sure it can.  If the single paycheck comes from a high-paying job or profession, yes.  Otherwise, it's shopping at thrift stores, discount department stores, discount grocery stores or membership clubs, patching up a jalopy bearing a "don't laugh...it's paid for" sticker on the bumper.
There's nothing wrong with that.  Don't get me wrong.
But you as a parent, owe it to yourself, and your child, to ensure that they have a successful future.
Computer literacy has gone from being an asset to a requirement.  It's become almost as necessary as having to know basic mathematics skills (it was my worst subject in school).
Everything your child is involved in as a youngster are things that employers look at today.
From instrumental/vocal music to athletics.  Not just a place in Who's Who or the National Honor Society.
Kid raising money for band?  Yep, employers look at that.  Community service is a must.  City councils, school boards, and advisory non-profit boards don't come out of thin air, ya know.  Seats on those boards reflect positively on companies.
Because community goodwill is the best form of free advertising there is.  I should know...I've been in the advertising business for the past 25 years now.
My daughter is entering pre-school at the end of this month.
We recently attended an open house at the private Christian school that's located just down the hall from where our daughter's daycare facility is.
I looked around "Mrs. Yam's" (she goes by a nickname to make things easier for kids not used to saying a VERY ethnic-sounding name) classroom at all the small "Savannah-sized" tables and wondered about how she would be in this setting.
It didn't seem that long ago when she took a few naps during the day, snuggled in a little pack-n-play in the infant section of the daycare center.  Then transitioned to the toddler's room once she was able to walk.  Then as potty training progressed, up with the older toddlers.
Time for this Old School Dad to get back in the classroom.
Because I have to learn how to deal with how fast my child is growing up.
And how I can temper my desire to protect her with her desire for independence.
Continuing education, if you will.


NEXT WEEK:  Little Big Girl

Ready for the World

Being fearless is not always a good thing.
Unless you're in any branch of the armed forces, where fear is not an option.
When you have a very active three-year-old daughter, who is not afraid to take chances, and still is trying to figure out just why gravity chooses to be her enemy, you kind of wish she'd show some modicum of fear.
But that's not her job.  It's ours.
We have to teach her the ramifications of what a poor decision could cost her.  She could become seriously hurt, or worse.
In last week's column, I talked about how we took her to her first amusement park, and how well she took to the rides.  Then this past weekend, we stepped it up and took her to Kennywood, the granddaddy of it all (according to her, anyway).
Whatever ride she met the minimum height limit on, we put her on.  She conquered them all.
And just about every one she put forth the statement afterwards..."I wanna do it again!"
And most of the time, we did do it a second time.  Except for the stomach-rippers that I can only handle in moderation in my advancing years.
It pleases me no end to see Savannah having this much fun.  Because it's not just about a day out and about, it's about making memories.
And what a memory she has.
Just yesterday, the three of us took a day trip to Erie to take a bike ride on Presque Isle and visit a few wineries near the Penn-New York border.  One of them special to us, as the owners are like friends.
After the wineries, we went to dinner.  It's long been a habit for us to end our day at Quaker Steak and Lube when we travel to Erie.
We have a QSL closer to our home.  We know that.
The QSL in Erie is just down the road from Splash Lagoon, the indoor water park that we took Savannah to this past winter.
And she still remembers it like it happened yesterday.
"I wanna go there again!"
She knows what fun she had there.
And I believe she knows that we know.
And as much as we love our daughter, she knows that while we love to indulge her, she's expected to give some in return.
Asking instead of telling when she wants something.  Potty training is not a request.  Disobedience will not be tolerated.  Same with lying.
Not that these are real problems with her at this point.  But as she has had a fairly trouble-free 'terrible twos',  she is entering her stage of independence and assertiveness in her third year.  And again, while not a problem at this juncture, she does need to be reminded of it.
Because mom and dad will always be forgiving no matter what.  The rest of society is another story.


NEXT WEEK:  School Daze

Wild Thing

We won't be talking about the songs from Tone-Loc or The Troggs that share the title of this week's column.
But rather, my three-year-old daughter.
She's not wild, though.  Not much anyway.
The "Wild" comes from a park that my wife and I were well-acquainted with in our youth that we wanted our daughter to experience.
Growing up, my paternal grandparents began taking the extended family on summer Sundays to Idlewild Park in Ligonier, about an hour's drive due east of Pittsburgh.  Grandma would spend the day before making  an enormous amount of food, and anyone could eat anytime they got hungry.  There was no organized sit-down time.
Idlewild, an amusement park conjoined with Story Book Forest and Timber Link golf course, is something for everyone, regardless of age.  Even after all these years.
Since then, they've added the "Soak Zone" water park, "Jumpin' Jungle", and "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood (the show's host is from the area)".
We took Savannah on her first visit this summer.  We were not prepared for just how much fun this kid was going to have.
We took her on the kiddie rides, as a precaution to get her warmed up for the real thing.  She was ready to go right to the 'big kid' rides right out of the gate.
I never believed in dragging a kid to a ride scared out of his wits trying to break him of his fear.  If anything, it's counterproductive.
But after Savannah conquered a few nausea-inducing rides that once would not faze me even if I had stuffed myself with food just five minutes ago (not the case now), I felt it was time to tell her the best was yet to come.
Idlewild has only one roller-coaster, and it does the job fairly for thrill-seekers.  But for a three-year-old, it can be a bit much.  So I gave Savannah the opportunity to back out.
"Now Savannah, this ride is pretty fast," I began.  "If you think it's going to scare you, we don't have to get on it."
"I want to!"
So we did.  Margie was going to get in line behind us.  In the front row of the car, I glanced at Savannah.  Even with the wind blowing in her face and her long light brown hair blowing behind us, she was clearly having the time of her life.
As we got off the coaster she said it:
"I wanna do it again!"
I handed her over the rail to Margie.  We would come to do it a couple more times.
Once she conquered the roller coaster, everything else was gravy to her.
Our biggest fear was her not making the height requirement.  But fortunately, she just barely made it at 36 inches.  And she's enough of a charmer to the attendants that they asked her to move her head up slightly to make sure they wouldn't get it in trouble.
And true to form among her peers, she was not ready to leave when the time came.  No sir.
But she'll be back.
Or maybe she'll be ready for Kennywood.



NEXT WEEK:  She's Ready

Crib Notes

No, this is not a column dedicated to teach your child to cheat without getting caught.
Rather, the rite of passage your little one goes through.
The one where you cease to call the nursery by that name and refer to it as simply a bedroom.
As my wife reminded me one day when we were discussing ideas on how to decorate the half-bath in our house.
We were discussing what color of paint to use.  She referred to "that leftover green paint" that we had in the basement.
"The stuff we used in the nursery?" I asked her.
"Well, it's her bedroom now," she said.
Just the week before, we transitioned our three-year-old from her crib to a 'big-girl' bed, concurrent with her third birthday.
While Margie was pregnant, I pretty much left the details to her as to how she wanted to furnish the nursery for our impending arrival.  She selected a convertible style crib, one that could go from a crib to a day bed and then finally as a full-size double bed.  It would be something our daughter would be able to use all through her childhood, and beyond.
It was a solid hardwood, so it was definitely something that would last if properly taken care of.
Putting it together as a crib shortly before Savannah's birth was sheer Hell.  I'd personally like to shoot whomever was responsible for inventing those so-called "barrel nuts".
Snapping at my wife, throwing tools and yelling four-letter words so loud that Savannah would likely have heard them in the womb, was enough to make me wonder "would it really be a bad thing if she slept between us in our bed until she's out of the crib?"
Yeah, right.
Then I found my cordless power screwdriver that my wife had given me two Christmases ago and that I had completely forgotten about.
Salvation at last.  The crib went together with ease after that.
Then Margie rescued the instructions for the crib that she had safely hidden away for when the time came to dismantle the crib and put together the full-size bed.
As she looked at the directions, she informed me of something I was unaware of.
"We weren't supposed to use a cordless screwdriver," she said.
I raised my eyebrows.  "What?"
"They say not to use power tools."
I think that to be more of a liability issue.  You can't put this dadburn thing together any other way.             So guess what...that's how this job is getting done.
And that's how it did.
Carefully QC'd afterwards, of course.
And when we presented the finished product to Savannah, she was overjoyed.  It was as if she had grown a foot overnight and could reach everything in sight.
Ironically, we found she needed a stepstool just to climb into the bed.  A gift from her aunt and uncle some time ago fitted the bill nicely.
Our biggest fear was her getting up in the middle of the night and waking us up, wanting to play.
It has yet to be realized, because she doesn't know she can climb out of bed at her leisure.  She thinks she still needs us to help her out.
And we're going to ride that one out.  For as long as it takes.


NEXT WEEK:  Wild Thing