Dead bat fun

You know what summed up my Saturday? "Hey, Dad - dead bat."

Now most people would say, "Yeah, I'm gonna chalk up any day that includes the phrase 'dead bat' as a bad one." But not me. No, sir. My reaction was, "Awesome! And we almost all walked past it!"

You see, my kids and I went out with my dad to some land he has, and we put the icing on the cake with finding a dead bat at the end of the trip. Score!

I know what you're saying, "Uh, a dead bat made your day?" To which I say, "Yes, good sir, yes it did!!!"

We headed out in the woods the way most folks do - with a pink fishing rod, a magnifying glass and a machete. My daughter had the fishing rod, which we quickly realized would be rather ineffective with a broken bobber, so we stashed it. The magnifying glass was brought so that we could lose it later. The machete was on hand because, well, it's awesome to use a machete.

While most people like walking the woods on a nice, orderly path, I find that the woods are far more exciting off the path. And under a log. And occasionally ankle deep in mud.

Our first stop was up on a ridge where some beavers had been doing a little tree trimming. It was up on the ridge when my daughter made the first squeal of pain of the day. We turned around (machete ready, just in case). A branch had caught her shirt. "And how are we going to know if you are actually hurt?" my dad asked. She thought for a moment. Apparently this kind of sunk in because when she got whacked in the face with a branch a while later, she let out a tiny muffled groan but kept on trekking.

Part of our process was to find where the property line is so, as we were hiking over hill and over dale, we were constantly on the lookout for bright yellow flagging. I am sure it is how Lewis and Clark did it. The kids were troopers. And I was able to keep them motivated by my brilliant decision to wear shorts.

You see, we were tromping through plenty of briar-laden woods; a short while into it, my legs looked as though someone had taken a Weed Whacker to them. So when a little whining started up, I could simply say, "Look at my legs! Do you see me whining?" I'm sure they appreciated that.

By the time we reached the end of the property, the kids estimated that they had walked 113 miles over approximately 42 days.

As we made our way back to our starting point, my son did start to lag a little. And by "lag a little" I mean sit down and say he was going to take a nap. Or we could carry him. My dad and I had a good laugh over that one. I asked my son whether complaining was going to help him walk faster. He did not find that amusing.

We eventually got him motivated by finding a few boards to turn over, even catching a couple of salamanders under one. Before they knew it, we were back to the road where the car was, ready to make our woods exit.

We had parked right by a bridge, and as we were crossing the bridge, that's when my son saw the bat. And as good stewards of nature, we told my son he must become one with the bat and eat it.

Ha! Little rabies humor there. We used this as an opportunity to explain to the kids about rabies and tell them that, if they were good, we'd show them the heartwarming tale of "Old Yeller."

In all, it was a great woods walk, and I was impressed how the kids were gamers with only a hint of whining or complaining. I'm looking forward to the next time. When I'll be wearing jeans.

All grown up

So we were on our way to dinner when my daughter chimed in from the back seat.

"I want an adult menu," she said.

I went into my usual spiel, which was that the items on kids' menu were cheaper than those from the adults', and that she was probably going to order chicken nuggets anyway, which don't exist on most adult menus. She would have none of this. I was being patently unfair, and she was incredibly close to becoming the epicenter of schoolyard ridicule, as she is the last fourth grader on the planet to have to suffer the indignity of ordering from a kids' menu.

She made her final statement on the issue: "It's time you started treating me like an adult. I'm NINE-AND-A-HALF YEARS OLD!"

It was a good thing my wife was driving, as she has way more composure than I do. I immediately went hunched over laughing. (I was quickly informed from the back seat that this was not, in fact, funny, but very serious.)

So there we are. Nine. And a half. And an adult. I tried to offer her the full option of being an adult: A job, a mortgage, having to pretend you don't want to go down the slide at the park. (That's not just me, right?)

She told me that was not the point. I asked her what the point was. She told me the point was an adult menu. I again countered that she was going to just get chicken nuggets, which live solely on the kids' menu at the restaurant we were going to. She made this frustrated little grunt of exasperation that I am sure, to her, say, "That foolish man just did not get the perfectly sensible and logical nature of my request."

My daughter is a lot like her mother. My father-in-law has affirmed this to me. If there is a finite amount of sighs in a human body, I am guessing my father-in-law used them up between my wife's ninth and 21st birthdays. Which leads me to believe that my stubborn child will one day emerge to be ... a stubborn adult.

I understand that this is part of the process children go through. I am sure somewhere out there is the world's most compliant and reasonable child who breezes through the teen years with nothing but clear thinking and parental respect. I hope that child is in a museum some day. Let's be honest - most children that age can, within a 10-second span, go from being the most wonderful, kind, loving creatures to something quite possibly possessed by demonic spirits and/or aliens.

They also can be an All-A honor roll student one second, to the next second being asked, "Why would you put the cushions on the couch on TOP of the mail?" I actually asked that question recently, and was answered with, "Oh, I thought it was old mail." You know, like the old mail you periodically shove under the couch cushion.

Oh, and back to the kids' menu for a minute - when we got to the restaurant and she did get a kids' menu, you know what her big issue was? Parker got more Crayons with his. Because way at the top of the list of adult concerns - far higher than an IRS audit or a colonoscopy - is Crayon equity.

My wife keeps preaching patience to me. Kids being kids, she says. I tell her I want results, and I want them now. I remind her that I, too, was once a kid, and while paying attention, sitting still and not talking were not exactly my strong suits, I assure her that I was very good at one thing: I was bribeable. My Matchbox collection was built predominately on fulfillment of good behavior in church. But my daughter collects American Girl dolls, and it's too pricey to bribe her with those every day. Hmmm ...

So I guess I will have to think of another option. I know that the examples my wife and I set will go a long way to teaching them how to act as adults. And I know that there will be some times in life where we just ignore behavior that we would never find ourselves exhibiting. It's all part of the process of growing up. Granted, we could avoid some of the headache if they'd just add chicken nuggets to the adult menu.