Spelling, Bees and Birds

We try to limit Faith's daily television intake. Partly because there's a lot of trash on television and partly because my wife believes television will rot her brain and partly because Faith has an insane amount of bring-home activities at her school.  This kid has a reading assignment every day.  I think I was only reading at home once a week when I was in first grade.

For those that know the dynamics of our marriage, you know that I'm more laid-back than the more-beautiful half of our lovely union.  So long as she has her school work done, I'll let Faith watch as much TV as she wants. After all, I can't park myself in front of an episode of SportsCenter but deny my daughter her Disney Channel. That's like grabbing a cookie out of the cupboard and enjoying it right in her face while she is forced to finish her veggies.

I was one of those kids that did nothing but watch TV and play video games when it was too cold to play outside. I went to public school, as opposed to my privileged offspring, and had no educational obligations outside of school in first grade so I indulged myself on hours upon hours of uninterrupted inactivity after school. I admit to being a pretty lazy kid, so I have sort of bought into my wife's program.  Plus, I was a fat, fat kid.  Thanks to hours of couch potatoing and ridiculous amounts of Kool Aid (there will be no visual proof of my obesity, you'll just have to take my word for it).

Last Monday after her bath, Faith and I decided to surf the channels for some good ol' animated entertainment. Upon realizing that cartoons are quite scarce at 8 pm, I happened to flip past a movie I'd heard about.  Akeelah and the Bee. I never had much interest in this movie. Despite the buzz when it came out on dvd, Faith was too young to understand much of it and I had no interest in a movie about the National Spelling Bee. However, something about the scene made me want to stop and watch, but I was met with opposition from a diminutive voice seated next to me. 

When I asked her why she didn't want to watch, Faith was unable to provide an answer, simply offering 'Because.' Well, I don't accept that from children. I'm a taxpayer, and half the reason this kid even exists. If this kid wants to disagree with me, it better be for more than just because. So I respond, "'Because' isn't a reason."  We played that game for a couple of rounds before I finally laid down the Trump Card, and let her know that if she couldn't give me a real reason that this movie wouldn't be adequate entertainment, we'd watch it until she could.

I realized that I seemed like a remote-bully. I didn't taunt her so much as I wasn't willing to consider any other viewing options until she could verbalize an adequate reason to not watch.  Trust me, my intentions were good. I promise. Plus, there was nothing else on.

As the scene unfolded, I determined that this was a movie that Faith needed to see.  I needed her to see another little girl having a tough time with something.  She needed to see a real, flesh and blood human girl fight through adversity.  Not a computer-generated Barbie with her talking bird, or pencil-drawn perfection from Disney.  There was a real, human lesson to be learned here, and I'd be doggone if she didn't learn it.

Part of the beauty of this movie is that the star and major co-stars are black.  We don't get a lot of that in my house.  It's important to me that Faith isn't too sheltered from diversity.  I'll admit that I initially thought that she didn't want to watch because the little girl on the screen didn't have blonde hair.

I resolved to have my first discussion about race...  with my seven year-old...  I felt a boiling confidence that I would pass a milestone by having a deep, heart-to-heart with my little princess.  I was confident that we would bond further through this impartment of knowledge from lion to cub.  I eagerly sent her off to brush her teeth as I readied my words and planned the course of the upcoming talk.

As a man, I can talk sports with the best of them.  I can negotiate a car deal all day long. I can talk music, shoes, religion, barbecue recipies - articulating the differences in skin color to my kid's innocent little mind was like explaining to Julie why I didn't take the trash out yesterday before I left for work... my words made sense to me, but I still saw that what-the-heck-are-you-talking-about look on her face.

I tried to be strategic.  I began by asking a few exploratory questions that lead us down the path to the societal construct of race. I tried to soften the entry by mentioning the fact that none of her dolls have dark skin and none of her favorite movies have many dark-skinned characters. When I asked Faith if she didn't want to watch the movie because of the girl's brown skin, she answered no. She sort of got defensive about it. She said, "Daddy, Grandma has brown skin. And so does Nick (my nephew). And Uncle (cousin) Jon....." After she rattled of a few more names of friends and family, I felt silly. My child was basically reminding me that many of the people she loves and interacts with looked just like the people on television. She let me know that yes, she sees the differences in people and their physical features but doesn't care.

I was beaten.  I anticipated being able to empart some knowledge.  I wanted to be able to explain away any conceived notions that she may have had.  Despite my initial disappointment at a potentially missed opportunity to establish open lines of communication between father and daughter, I found myself somewhat relieved that she hasn't learned how to stereotype yet, and that her innocence is still intact.

It's kind of endearing that she calls black people 'brown'  because the actual skin color is brown.  She doesn't know that daddy is supposed to jump higher and run faster than her friends' dads because I'm darker than they are, she just thinks I'm awesome.  Evidently, I'm awesome at everything except sit-down, heart-to-heart talks.  I stumbled and stammered through a conversation about a spelling bee.  What am I going to do when the conversation is about the birds and the bees?

Hot Dog Thanksgiving

I'm not much of a "TV guy." If I'm in front of the tube, you can bet that I'm either watching a game, highlights of a game, or playing a game. I will occasionally enjoy some History Channel or an episode of Seinfeld, but certainly not the Food Channel.

Earlier this week, the beautiful Mrs. Mayfield and I had our lives changed forever.  We were laying in bed watching television.  Julie had tuned to a show called "Man Vs. Food."  I had heard about it, but I don't think I've ever seen it. The show was touring the East Coast.  There were some delicious pizzas of course, burgers and hot dogs.  Hot dogs.  I'm typically not a hot dog guy.  I like steaks and burgers mostly.  I find these two types of cow to be the most grillable.

I grill a lot. I mean a lot.  Last summer, I grilled every Sunday dinner except for three (I only missed those three days because of being out of town.) Despite the subject of smothered burgers and toasted buns, I wasn't paying much attention. I was mostly fantasizing about the pretty lady lying next to me, and planning my pick up line. Then I heard him mention bacon.  Bacon is God's gift to us humans.  Everything is better with bacon. Iwould eat bacon on dog food.  I would eat a bacon and hair sandwich. Suddenly, my focus shifted from my wife's short shorts to the sizzling swine on the screen. My eyes bulged and my mouth dropped open. The chef was adding bacon to a hot dog topped with barbecued pulled pork, cheddar cheese and an extra dab of barbecue sauce for good measure.  It was love at first sight, and the Lord answered my prayers.

(Yes, it's as good as it looks!)

Today, we were blessed the warmest day of the year 2010.  My wife saw it coming, and planned for me to fire up the grill.  She planned a hot dog bar complete with chopped onions, shredded cheese, cheddar cheese, sprouts, slaw, relish, salsa, guacamole, chili, sour cream, and of course ketchup and mustard.  She had researched some hot dog recipes online, and made sure that we had every ingredient for any conconction a person's heart could desire on a bun. Did I mention that I grilled the bacon?  The sound of bacon sizzling on the grill made me feel like I was hearing for the first time.  It was lovely.

(Faith's Macaroni Dog)

But not nearly as beautiful as the sight of two dogs smothered in pulled pork, grilled bacon and cheddar cheese. There was party in my mouth that could hardly be contained. I was truly enjoying the enjoyment. I found myself eating long after the feeling of fullness.  It was reminiscent of a Thanksgiving feast.  The need to sample some of everything left me euphorically stuffed.

(Onions+avocado+sprouts+salsa= The California)

As Duke gets ready to host North Carolina, I find that the previous four hot dogs are making room for more guests at the party.