I’m pleased to introduce, once again, my sister Anne.  These days she’s writing for Heart of Gold Girls, which is a wonderful site dedicated to helping girls pursue their goals.  She’s guest posted here once before and can always be counted on for a thoughtful and/or pithy response to popular culture.  In conjunction with the hundredth anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic Hollywood is all a-twitter with the 3D re-release of Titanic the movie.  Anne was quite the fan of the movie when it was released, and today she’s here to provide her view of the film as someone who has successfully survived adolescence.  Thanks, Anne!

I was a part of the demographic that made Titanic an international success.  I wish I were the demographic that flocked to an edgier, more hip groundbreaking film.  Pulp Fiction, perhaps.  But nope.  In 1997 I was a cliché with no shame who saw Titanic 5 times in the theater.

I could defend myself.  I could tell you, for instance, that despite its totally lame dialogue, Titanic restored the grand tradition of epic films a la Doctor Zhivago or Gone with the Wind. But who am I kidding?  I spent over 16 hours of my life seeing Titanic on the big screen for primarily 3 reasons…

1. The love story
2. Leonardo DiCaprio in a tux
3. Kate Winslet’s clothes

But how about today?  Does Titanic hold up over time for this former swooning 17-year-old?  In an article for The Huffington Post, a kindred Titanic groupie saw the 3D version, and compared her thoughts while viewing the movie at age 12 to her thoughts as a now 26-year-old.  I haven’t seen the 3D version yet, but I popped in my VHS(!!!) copy of Titanic the other day so I could do a similar comparison.  Here are my thoughts:

Age 17: I wish people still dressed like that.
Age 32: Kate Winslet looks uncomfortable in those corsets.

Age 17: I wish I had red hair the color of Rose’s.
Age 32: I hope my daughter ends up having red in her hair. My ship has sailed.

Age 17: Leonardo DiCaprio is hot.
Age 32:  Thanks a lot, Titanic. Because Leo was stalked by teenage girls after Titanic came out, he never played heartthrobs after that. Please, oh please, let the new Great Gatsby be as good as I want it to be. Maybe he’ll be pretty again. No more J Edgar please.

Age 17: Jack seems kinda nerdy when he shouts about being “King of the World”.
Age 32: Good instincts, “Anne-at-17”.  It was indeed nerdy. Your cringe was worthy.

Age 17: I just love Kathy Bates; she’s so nice and friendly.
Age 32: Kathy Bates is always a hoot! Should I start watching Harry’s Law? Nah.

Age 17: I hope I meet a wandering artist someday and have a wild fling.
Age 32: How on earth do they think they’re going to travel the world if they’re broke?

Age 17: Jack is so fun-loving, getting Rose to dance an Irish jig!
Age 32: Jack can pull it off, but Rose looks like a doofus dancing that faux jig.

Age 17: Eeek!  Kate Winslet is really gutsy to show her breasts like that!
Age 32: Clearly Kate Winslet had not nursed any babies when she shot this movie.

Age 17: Ugh, I have to watch the ship sink now.  The good stuff is over.
Age 32: Oh god, I forgot they killed off that old couple in bed together.  I can’t watch.

Age 17:  Why doesn’t Jack try harder to climb on that friggin’ board?
Age 32:  Why doesn’t Jack try harder to climb on that friggin’ board?*

Age 17: What a dramatic gesture throwing that necklace into the ocean!
Age 32: Throwing that necklace in the ocean served no purpose whatsoever. It ticks me off.

Age 17:  I must buy the soundtrack.
Age 32:  Did I really buy that soundtrack that sounded like Enya but wasn’t Enya?

And, with that, I need to find someone willing to go see it with me again in 3D.

*I’m with the Huffington Post on this one…

Did you love Titanic or hate it?  Leo-lover?  Am I alone in thinking James Cameron should find a screenwriter and stick with the special effects?

In Britain in 2009 the saying “Keep calm and carry on” was everywhere.  I don’t really know what the genesis was, but it was officially a “thing.”  Since then the saying has been adapted countless ways (my favorite is “Keep calm and act like Kate Middleton”), and my sister found an ironic take on the phrase on a greeting card.  She snatched it up and waited for the right opportunity to send it.

Knowing full well that SSP is slowly killing me with all these overnight feedings, she decided I was the most appropriate recipient.  So last night, after kids were tucked in and my belly was full of risotto and ice cream I opened the mail and found this card from her.

Since we started SSP on cereal last weekend she wrote that she hoped that by the time I received her card he’d be sleeping through the night.  And if not, she recommended that I follow the advice on the front of her card.  It lightened my mood instantly.

Then, in a happy twist of fate last night SSP only woke up once.  Imagine it!  Today I only feel somewhat sleep deprived, which is a vast improvement over incredibly sleep deprived.  Things are really looking up!

So, in response to Anne’s very apt mailing, I created a poster of my own which I think perfectly encapsulates my approach to life these days:

Thanks, Anne.  As always, you know just how to lift my spirits!  I love you.

If you know me at all in real life, you know I’m a fan of Tivo.  (Or, more accurately in my case, DVR.  But as far as I’m concerned “Tivo” is to digitally recorded video as “Kleenex” is to facial tissue… But I digress.)  GAP was the one pushing it when we climbed aboard the Tivo bandwagon several years ago.  But today I am the bigger evangelist.  I love the thing.

Perhaps this is quite a bit to do with life as a parent of young children.  I’ve heard my parents say many times that they have no idea what pop culture was doing in the ’80s because they were busy raising children.  I suspect that the same lot would have befallen me were it not for the magic of Tivo.  (Because really, who has time to set a VCR to record anything that isn’t earth shatteringly important?)  It is because of the magic “record” button on our remote that I am even slightly up to speed on current television shows.  Nevertheless, I am about to bite the hand that feeds me.

I miss the anticipation of watching shows in real time.

I remember in college how we all looked forward to congregating in dormitory and frat house rooms to watch Friends after dinner.  I remember one sorority sister who amazed her suite-mates because she was able to shower within the time span of a commercial break.  (Remember commercials?)  I recall that in my early twenties I made sure to leave Wednesday nights open so that I could watch The West Wing as it aired, and phone GAP (we did the long distance thing for a couple of years) as soon as it ended to rehash it.  The only show that I’ve watched in real time since we got Tivo was LOST and that was only because the suspense from week to week was completely unbearable (and because it conveniently started well after IEP’s bedtime).

I started thinking about all this because it occurred to me the other day that I don’t even know which days of the week some of my favorite shows air.  I think How I Met Your Mother is still on Mondays.  But The Big Bang Theory may have been moved.  Thursdays, perhaps?  And my favorite show of the moment, New Girl (“… really any type of chut-en-y“)?  I have no idea when it’s on.  That didn’t use to be the case.  Even today, 25-ish years later I can tell you that The Wonder Years aired on Tuesdays and The Cosby Show aired on Thursdays.

I miss getting excited about a new episode of a favorite show.  I miss looking forward to it.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love that I can sit down on nearly any evening and at least one of the shows I like is magically waiting for me to watch in my own time.  Because honestly, were that not the case, I’d miss most of it.  Still, though, there’s something a little isolating about it.

When everyone can watch a show at their own convenience almost no one watches it in real time.  (Sports are the obvious exception here.)  And when no one watches it in real time that collective, water-cooler moment the next day is substantially diluted.

None of this is breaking news.  But sometimes I notice little cultural phenomena and feel compelled to comment.  I have fond memories of looking forward to some of my past favorite shows each week.  A working mother of two young kids doesn’t really have the bandwidth to set her clock by the TV Guide anyway.  But I still miss the subtle excitement of the bygone time when I could.

“Madonna?  Really?  They couldn’t get somebody more current?” I asked.

“There aren’t really any big rock stars anymore.  None of the current people could carry it.”

“But isn’t she over 50?”  I asked.  (Fifty-two, it turns out.)

“Yeah, but she’s definitely a big enough star.”

This conversation between GAP and me went back and forth for a few minutes.  He contended that today’s Top 40 artists just don’t have the star power or gravitas to headline a Super Bowl halftime show.  He conceded that a few of my suggestions were valid – Lady Gaga, Beyonce, and Justin Timberlake (though lately you’re more likely to see Justin on a movie screen than hear him on your weekly countdown).  But beyond those three, I agreed, it was hard to come up with someone who had a substantial enough reputation to carry the weight of the performance.

But why is this?  The music industry is still cranking out hits.  We’re still buying their music.  I still turn on the radio almost every time I get into the car.  I wonder what’s wrong with today’s stars.  And yet there’s something about, “And now your Super Bowl Halftime show starring TAYLOR SWIFT!!!!” that just doesn’t quite do it for me.

Out of curiosity we Googled the recent halftime acts.  For the past ten years they have been:

• 2011 – Black-Eyed Peas, Usher, and Slash
• 2010 – The Who
• 2009 – Bruce Springsteen
• 2008 – Tom Petty
• 2007 – Prince
• 2006 – The Rolling Stones
• 2005 – Paul McCartney
• 2004 – Janet Jackson, P. Diddy, Nelly, Kid Rock, and Justin Timberlake
• 2003 – Shania Twain, No Doubt, and Sting
• 2002 – U2
• 2001 – Ben Stiller, Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, Aerosmith, N’Sync, Britney Spears, Mary J. Blige, and Nelly

The sweeping majority of these were nostalgia acts.  But why?  Not everyone who watches the Super Bowl is over 45.  In fact, it’s probably got the most diverse demographic of viewers of anything on television.  Young, old, rich, poor, male and female.  There is very little filter.  So why the trips down rock and roll’s memory lane?

My theory is this: Madonna wasn’t always Madonna. Twenty-five years ago she was a punk girl from Michigan with bleached hair, lace gloves, and a dream of making it really big.  It took a long time for her to become the legend that she is today.  Twenty years from now Katy Perry may be an intergenerational pop music icon.  But for now she’s a cute girl with a string of hits.  We’ll have to wait and see what her staying power is like.  It takes a bigger and more lasting career than most “of the moment” stars have to offer.

The other reason I think most of these acts are a generation old?  Remember what I said about the Super Bowl being the great demographic equalizer?  The event planners have to cater to a huge range of people.  If they put Katy Perry up there my mother would say, “Who’s the girl with the blue hair?” and head into the kitchen for some friendly chit-chat between halves.  But even your average 12-year-old knows who Madonna is, and might stick around to watch.

I think it would be a fascinating job choosing the Super Bowl halftime act.  Who’s big enough and has broad enough appeal?  Who is available and whom can we afford to pay?  Which songs from their catalog will they play?  And so on.  Usually I just sit there and eat more guacamole while I watch.  But last night I started thinking about the strategery behind it all and it got interesting.

Last year on my birthday I broke away from my usual M.O. and instead of writing about my thoughts and reflections on some topic that had been on my mind, I wrote about myself.  Given the introspection afforded by pregnancy, I’ve been writing about myself more than usual lately.  Nevertheless, I thought I’d carry the tradition forward this year and provide a few more fun facts about myself.

So, without further ado, here is a little list of things about me, which you may not have already known.

1. As a rule my hair isn’t thick enough to let it get very long.  However, it gets very thick when I’m pregnant, so I’m currently growing it out because this is my one chance for it to get long enough to donate.  I’ll chop it all off right after the baby is born.
2. Because I plan to donate it, I haven’t colored my hair in almost a year.  I’ve been surprised at how much I like my natural color, but also surprised at the number of grey hairs I’ve had to pluck.
3. I can’t wait for the weather to cool off enough for me to start roasting marshmallows over the stove after dinner each night.
4. When I was pregnant with IEP we found out that we had a colony of bats living in our attic.  It was one of the creepiest experiences I’ve ever had.  I don’t recommend it.  (Thankfully none ever got into the house.)
5. When I was a kid my favorite birthday dinner menu was macaroni and cheese with little smokies.  I still love macaroni and cheese, although my penchant for tiny sausages has faded.
6. Lately it isn’t uncommon for me to go to work with stickers of Sesame Street, Dora the Explorer, or sporting equipment stuck to my body.  They are IEP’s rewards for successfully using the toilet and when the novelty of the poster on the back of his door wore off he decided that it was fun to stick them on me.  I love looking down and seeing his little imprint on me all day at work.
7. I haven’t read a single book since June.  I find it highly embarrassing, but I just don’t have it in me right now.
8. All summer long I’ve resisted the temptation to try McDonald’s swirly frozen lemonade concoction because I feared I’d get addicted and didn’t want to worry myself with all the extra calories and sugar.  But now that fall is setting in I think it’s safe to try it because I suspect it will be going off the menu soon anyway.
9. Over the summer I replaced loose powder and pressed blush with tinted moisturizer and cream rouge and I don’t think I’ll ever go back.
10. I am incredibly curious about this baby, what kind of a kid he’ll be, and how he’ll be similar to or different from his brother.
11. The picture above was taken as part of a larger family photo shoot in May.  By the end of it IEP’s face was completely covered in red dye.  Those pictures of him are some of my all-time favorites.
12. Every day on my right hand I wear a white gold and diamond ring from Tiffany that I won in a classical radio station raffle drawing when I was 25.  I actually won a watch, but I was able to exchange it for the ring.  I get complimented on it a fair amount and I love telling the story of how I got it.
13. I’ve been feeling pretty good about myself lately because people keep telling me that I’m a cute pregnant person.  But I always have to confess that they haven’t watched me try to put on socks.
14. My favorite Jewish holiday (I’m not Jewish) is Sukkot.  I love going for walks in the evening and seeing all the Jewish families out enjoying one another’s company.  It makes me feel good about things even though it’s not a part of my own culture.
15. I have no idea how I came up with 33 entries for this list last year.  I’m calling it quits for now and will add to the list throughout the day.
16. Was one of my favorite birthdays.  Getting my drivers license was great, but I have especially fond memories of my birthday party.  My dad took me and several girlfriends on a camping trip and it was one of the most fun parties I had as a kid.
17. I haven’t ridden a horse in more than a year and that makes me kind of sad. 
18. I still have all of my wisdom teeth, but I’ve only ever had three.  The fourth never came in.
19. Not usually one for extensive retail therapy, since I was about five months pregnant I’ve had the insatiable urge to go shopping.  I think there’s something about not being able to shop that’s making me want it.  I’ve mostly placated myself with shoes, but I think I may go on a little bit of a bender come spring.   
20. When eating out I almost always order dessert, and I almost never order a chocolate option.  I will go for something caramel or fruit based over something chocolate every time.  Bread pudding, tarte tatin, berry cobbler, here I come.  Flourless chocolate cake, you do nothing for me.
21. The one exception to my general disinterest in chocolate is a chocolate bundt cake that is made from a spruced up devil’s food cake mix that other people go nuts for, and which I never grow tired of.
22. I worry that lists like this are completely indulgent and self-absorbed, but I make them anyway because I love reading them about other people.

If you are a 10-ish-year-old boy named Will from St. Louis, the whole “back to school” affair that’s coming up in a few weeks just got a lot more exciting.  The end of day camps, and cannon balls, and chasing down the ice cream truck are about to draw down for the year.  I suspect this would be a huge letdown for most little boys.  And perhaps it will be for Will too.  But when Will goes back to school next month he will likely be asked, in front of all his classmates, what he did on his summer vacation.

Will will sit patiently while he listens to stories of grandma’s house and Disney World and beach trips from his classmates.  And when it is his turn Will will stand up and say, “I danced on stage with Bono in front of 56,00 people.”  And with that statement Will wins the summer vacation sweepstakes.   (Assuming, of course, that Will’s pint-sized classmates grasp how unlikely and how awesome such an event is…)  I’m pretty sure nothing tops that.

I think we have defining moments in our lives.  For most of us they include things like wedding days, childbirth, professional conquests, and sometimes tragedy.  But many of us also have little moments of fortune that create huge memories.  Things like catching a home run fly ball, or winning the science fair, or getting pulled up onstage by Bono for the better part of “City of Blinding Lights.”

I don’t know what kind of impression his rock star treatment will leave on young Will.  I know that I was beyond excited on his behalf.  I know that I will remember him walking around that stage with Bono holding his hand.  I know that it was an experience that millions of people around the world might dream of, but that Will himself may not understand that for a number of years.

But that’s the thing about these defining moments: what is pivotal for one person may not be for another.  We all interact with the world in our own ways, and are impacted by things differently.  That’s part of what makes life so interesting.  Will may go on to have an astounding life in which an onstage appearance with Bono is merely a footnote.  Or he may think back on that moment filled with adrenaline and excitement for the rest of his life.  I’ll never know.  But today I’m thinking back on some of the more pivotal moments in my life, and they are making me smile.

I’m keeping it light today, folks.  My job has been a bear lately.  GAP’s job has really been a bear lately.  And sometimes (like now) my brain just loses its capacity to do anything worthwhile.  Please, indulge me or forgive me as you find appropriate.

Tis the season of friendly competition.  March Madness just wrapped up and we’ve all spent the past few weeks ribbing each other about unforeseen upsets (“bracket busters” in pool parlance) and whose team was going all the way.  Admittedly, I had less fun with March Madness this year because I picked Pitt to win it all and, well, that didn’t quite turn out.  But I can take heart, not only because my whole pool’s brackets were crappy this year, but because there is a new competition on the horizon: Cupcake Wars!

A bit of background for you…

GAP’s family is competitive.  They are a family of eight.  Six kids, two parents, and split evenly between boys and girls.  Whether it be a friendly game of Bridge or a full season of fantasy football, the competitive streak never fails to come out.  If you didn’t grow up in this kind of family (I didn’t…) it takes a bit of getting used to.  But I have grown to really love it.  There are some competitions where I am a strong contender (Trivial Pursuit), and some where I am not (anything relating to football).  However, since this family is an equal opportunity score keeper, everyone has their moment to shine.

I’ve been a part of GAP’s family for nearly 12 years now and in that time we’ve all grown very close.  Much of that closeness came from shared beach vacations, shared childbirth experiences, shared holidays, and, lately, shared e-mail threads of our favorite Charlie Sheen quotes.  But some of it came from our little competitions.  We boast about our skills and gravitas.  We taunt and trash talk.  And, with the exception of a couple of white elephant style trophies, we only play for bragging rights.  At some point in time we’ve all been victorious and we’ve all been humbled.  There’s something very equalizing about it.

We will be gathering the whole group together over Memorial Day weekend to have portraits taken of the whole gang – all 19 of us.  It will be fun and relaxing and with any luck at all the little kids will cooperate with the photographer.  My mother-in-law couldn’t leave well enough alone, though.  She has instituted our family’s first ever Cupcake Wars, complete with rules and regulations:  There will be two divisions – sweet and savory.  One entry per person.  Submissions will be anonymous.  Last minute finishing touches will be allowed.  Scoring will be based on appearance (25%), creativity (25%), and taste (50%).  It’s going to be intense!

Even though general exhaustion around here has prevented me from relentless recipe testing these past few weeks, I’m really looking forward to it.  Because no matter what kind of showing I make, I am assured of a few things.  1) We will all have stomach aches by the end of it.  2) We will all laugh a lot.  3) The whole thing will be memorable.

I guess what I’m driving at here (at the risk of getting a little saccharine) is that “friendly competition” doesn’t tell the whole story.  More than being a fun diversion, over time, it builds memories and forges bonds.  At some level, at the end of the day, we all win.  So, I may not turn out my best work (my sweet tooth has been on hiatus lately), but I’ll have my game face on nonetheless.

It took an escaped Egyptian cobra and the power of Twitter to capture the imagination of this country.  I’m sure that overstates it a bit (maybe even a lot) but there’s something really enchanting about this whole reptilian escapade.

For those who perhaps haven’t been following along at home (hi Granddaddy), last week an Egyptian cobra (about an inch and a half in diameter, 20 inches long, and highly venomous) escaped from her enclosed habitat at the Bronx zoo.  Given the dangerous nature of this particular ex-con, people became highly curious about her whereabouts.  And the whole search took on a much more lighthearted tone when some clever genius created the Twitter account @BronxZoosCobra, documenting her supposed adventures throughout the city.

The best part about this whole thing?  This Twitter feed has more than 200,000 followers.  To put that into context, that’s more followers than all of the state of Texas news organizations’ followers combined.  People ate it up, the very fact of which tells me that we all need some levity.

Some of my favorite tweets:

Gonna listen to some Jazz tonight. You know I love some great flute work. Do they provide it or is it bring your own basket?

Taking the Sex and the City Tour!!! I’m totally a SSSamantha.

On top of the Empire State Building! All the people look like little mice down there. Delicious little mice.

City may not sleep, but I’m ready to. Ooh a chimney! I bet you bragged to your friends about having a working fireplace in NYC. Hi roomie.

We sit here in a world filled with bad news.  The Middle East seems to be crumbling one country at a time.  Our economy is still shaky.  Unions and state governments are at each other’s throats across the Midwest.  And if there’s something fun and harmless that we can all agree upon, it’s that the idea of an escaped cobra going on a Manhattan sightseeing expedition is a hoot.

Yesterday morning the missing cobra was found.  She was coiled up in a dark corner of the reptile house, never having seen the light of day.  And strangely, when I read of her capture I was sad.  As of last night @BronxZoosCobra hadn’t tweeted in more than seven hours, a long time for a snake who’d been updating every couple of hours prior to that.  Her heyday has clearly ended.  Of course I think it’s better not to have a highly dangerous snake on the lam.  But it’s also sad that this thing – this amusement and diversion – is over.  We clearly needed it.

For a blogger I’m not a huge user of social media.  My usage of Facebook and Twitter is cursory at best.  But in moments like this I’m hard pressed to deny their power.  This was a 5:00 news afterthought that turned into a cultural moment because someone with a knack for one-liners opened a Twitter account.

I guess where I’m going with this is, thank you @BronxZoosCobra.  Thanks for seizing an opportunity and creating some fun where there was none.  We need to lighten the mood every now and then.  You were just the Twicket.

I’m going offline for a couple of weeks.  It’s time to close the books on 2010 and settle into uninterrupted time with my family.  But before I sign off, I want to offer one last Ten Dollar Thought for the year.  This blog will turn one while I’m away, and before I hit the ground running in 2011 I want to say how much this year of writing and conversing with each of you has meant to me.  I believe I am a better person because of Ten Dollar Thoughts and because of your contributions to it.  Thank you for reading, for thinking with me, for challenging me, for supporting me, and for being a part of this journey.  With that, here are the exquisitely pedestrian thoughts I plan to explore over the next couple of weeks. 

How much cream can you put into oyster stew before it gets really shameful?

Will I be able to finish the book I’m reading before the end of the year, or am I giving up?

Homemade marshmallows are so much tastier than store-bought, but kind of a hassle to make.

For the first time in my life, I don’t think I’ve listened to enough Christmas music this year.

I can’t wait to meet my new niece in April.

What does a roasted chestnut actually taste like?

I wonder if Katie Couric will go back to the Today Show next year.

I’m so happy that today is my last day of work this week.

I miss my sisters-in-law.

Maybe I should just pony up and make the stupid marshmallows.

Oh, and a coffee cake too!

I haven’t watched Elf or Christmas Vacation yet this year and I’m almost sure that’s some kind of crime.

Things that solve most problems include: soft sheets, pasta carbonara, and a hug from IEP.

I hope 2011 is as terrific as 2010 has been.

For the most part I have found that the funniest parenting stories come from the children; anecdotes in the Art Linkletter vein of kids’ quirky-but-accurate observations of the world.  However, from time to time you come across a parent whose approach to the imperfect art of raising children is so brilliantly injected with humor that you can’t help but laugh at their genuine appreciation for the sometimes-absurd nature of this journey.  And so it is that today I bring you the story of our friend J, and the demise of Milo McSpikerton.

I do not know what originally led to the adoption of Milo McSpikerton, but by some series of events (which I have no choice but to assume is similarly amusing) our friend J and his wife agreed to the acquisition of a hedgehog for their two young boys.  But agree they did, and for the next two years Milo lived happily in a cage in their family room.  Fresh cedar shavings, a spouted water bottle, and two boys who had been taught to be gentle with the naturally fearful creature kept young Milo well provided for and content.

Then, a few weeks ago J and his wife noticed that Milo was unusually still.  Really still.  That kind of still.  Poor Milo was gone.  The cause of death is still unknown.  And Milo McSpikerton was summarily laid to rest in a field behind the family home.  J created a tongue-in-cheek memorial PowerPoint presentation that acknowledged the passing of the family hedgehog, which commemorated the life cut tragically short. 

I’d not thought much about Milo since the news of his passing first came to me.  Then on Saturday as we drove home from the gym GAP told me that Milo had sent the boys a letter.

“From beyond the grave?” I asked incredulously.  “Isn’t that a little spooky for kids so young?”  (J’s boys are about three and six.)

“Oh, they don’t know he’s beyond the grave,” GAP responded.

“Then what do they think happened to him?” I asked back.

“J told the boys that Milo’s parents were getting up there in age and had asked their son to come home and help out around the house a little bit.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.  Originally Milo was just going to be gone a few weeks, but apparently his mom’s hip is giving her a lot of trouble and she needs him to move back in permanently.”

“Hedgehogs have hip problems later in life, do they?”

“Apprently.  So Milo sent the boys a letter explaining that his stay had to be extended indefinitely, but that he had found someone else to keep them company while he’s away.”

“Another hedgehog?”

“No, they got a dog.  It’s a Morkipoo.”  (Which I can only assume is a Maltese/Yorkie/Poodle cross.)  “Not much bigger than a hedgehog, actually.  The boys named him Hiccup.”

Yes.  Hiccup.  I couldn’t make this stuff up.

The End.

And that, my friends, is the story of how Milo McSpikerton went home to help his parents around the house, how his stay was extended due to his mother’s ailing hip, and how Hiccup the Morkipoo was sent as a replacement. 

The whole affair made me laugh hard.  I know that on the parenting path that stretches out in front of me there will be hamsters and lizards and critters of all stripes, fish funerals, and difficult conversations about where we go when we die and where babies come from.  But amidst all of our earnest attempts not to screw up our kids with too much truth, as parents we are blessed with the liberty to insert a few lies here and there.  And I have a real appreciation for J’s ability to find the opportunities to amuse himself (and the rest of us) in the process.  If raising children requires anything it requires a sense of humor.  We must find the funny in ourselves as much as we find it in our kids.  Otherwise a dead hedgehog is just a dead hedgehog, and that’s no fun for anybody.