When I was in kindergarten my teacher, Sister Pat, led us into the music room across the hall to watch the Reagan Inauguration. A short time later she announced that the hostages in Iran were free, and made a point of saying it occurred on Reagan's watch.
I don't remember if I knew what any of it meant at the time, but I must have. I look at my girls, who are roughly the same age I was then, and they have depths of understanding that would seem unbelievable to someone who's never had kids. I imagine it was much the same for me back in 1981.
So I'm a little disappointed that neither of my girls were given the opportunity to watch Obama's inauguration (no word yet on whether Smiley's school showed the event). Not that I like the guy or buy his rhetoric - I think that's obvious - but it is history, and a shining example to the world that even after 200 years we still believe in a peaceful transition of power to the opposition.
28 years from now it would've been grand for one or both of them to blog about their memories of today.
[By the way, I received an email asking why I closed comments on the Bush post. It was meant as a . . .heartfelt message more than anything, and if I'd had a way to do it I would have made that entry 'private'. It wasn't intended to spark a debate and so I made sure it didn't. We'll all argue about him another time :)]
As for me, I listened to about five minutes of the speech while on the way to change a flat on my Escort. My wife had loaned the car to her friend Chris, aka She of Negative Car Karma, and in ten minutes time she'd managed to all but shred the right front tire. What's worse the car was parked on a wide swatch of snow and ice, and I foolishly failed to dig out a base for the jack. Result? The jack slipped and the car dropped, ruining the jack.
While I waited by the Escort she took my van to go pick up another jack. She called a few minutes later to say that she couldn't start the van. I told you, cars hate the woman. It turns out she had just locked the wheel and it was a one second fix.
At two I took Lump into the doc for her checkup. She is 33 inches tall and weighs 24 pounds. Those numbers place her in the 90th percentile for height (meaning 90% of girls her age are shorter) and in the 25th percentile in weight (meaning 75% of girls her age are heavier).
In other words, she's tall and skinny.
The doc thinks she has allergies, since her runny nose is perpetual, and gave us a prescription. Other than that, she's perfectly healthy. She didn't cry or even flinch during the *four* shots she got, but bawled and fought over the blood test.
Here's the part I don't like. When I tried to report in the results to Lisa I was told the doctor had already called and told her everything. This is the second time a doc from that office has done this; the first time a Doctor flat out said she didn't trust me to properly relay her findings because she 'knows how men are'.
Mind you, this is one of the most respected and learned pediatrician offices in the city. But the reverse-sexism explicit in their calls just galls the hell out of me.
Speaking of doctors I fear I'm going to need one. My sinuses have been clogged for weeks now and now I'm staring to get very minor nosebleeds. It kind of snuck up on me. It took Lisa pointing out the amount of time I've had the problem to realize there was a problem at all.
By the way, Lump's nickname is staying for the time being. The only other option would be the discarded Smiley nickname of 'Maker of Trouble and Mayhem'. She is 100% hell when on the loose in the house, just destroying everything in her path. I took her out of her crib the other day and on the way to the floor as I put her down she grabbed two items off a shelf and threw them across the room. Anything and EVERYTHING she touches is meant to be eaten, thrown, dumped down the stairs, broken, or tipped over. There is not a Cheerio's box in Milwaukee that she hasn't scattered across the floor and I weep for my home when I see her on the prowl.
Tonight it was dance class for the kids and Lisa and wonder of wonders, when we got home the kids made it from the van to the house without tears, screaming, or violence.
It was like winning the lottery.