Yesterday was one of the those days when life really throws something at you, something you'd never ever envision, let alone expect. We've had a great dentist for coming up on ten years. I found him right out of the phone book when we moved to Midlothian from the Fan, randomly choosing the practice because it was close and the people seemed friendly. After one visit he was my dentist for sure, no matter how far away he was. He truly was an ordinary man who did things in an extraordinary way.
No one likes visiting the dentist, but Dr. Randall King and his staff made it so downright pleasant that I'd always leave feeling happier than when I came in. I truly enjoyed going in, and Sam did, too. How many small children actually like going to the dentist? It wasn't a fluke. He had a way of making you feel special, like you were his only patient on the planet. He was the opposite of a "king," so jovial and down-to-earth with a remarkably upbeat attitude and zest for life. Gosh, he was only 4 years older than me, 48-years-old.
Around the last time of my last cleaning, I found out he was out sick for a few months with some sort of heart problems. It was hard to believe that this energetic guy who was only 48-years-old had a serious illness. Then we got a card in the mail saying that he had sold his dental practice. Yee gads! I knew he had a wife and two boys whom he adored -- and he was only 48-years-old! (In case I hadn't mentioned his age enough!) Since then I hadn't been into the office to ask how he was doing and follow up although I meant to do so. Gosh, I wish I'd followed up. Why was I too busy to do that?
Yesterday at church I ran into his sweet hygenist. As the church cleared out, I called to her, "How is Dr. King doing?" She looked startled and said quietly, "I'm sorry to tell you that he passed away in June." Passed away? In June? What? Really? I've been in a tailspin ever since. His poor family!
Wow! I'm still just speechless, and that's a rare event. Last night I got on Legacy.com and read his obituary. After reading the many heartfelt comments, I realized he managed to make every patient feel like he/she was his only one. And he'd been doing this for 17 years.
God bless you, Dr. King and your family in dealing with such a devastating loss. You were truly an extraordinary man who made us all better people by knowing you. You've inspired us to try to be extraordinary, too. May you rest in peace.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
A Boy Babysitter, Oh Boy!
'Oh boy' is right! Last weekend Sam had his first "boy babysitter." To say it was a big hit is an understatement. It was more like a bases-loaded home run in the ninth inning! He may never want to go back to the sweet and pretty girls again, until puberty at least.
In fact, he has already planned out what he and his buddy are going to do next time. Of course it involves more LEGOs, a few more rounds of Trouble (the version with R2D2), and reading some spooky Halloween books. Sounds like a plan. Now we need to find somewhere to go! Maybe we'll go use up a restaurant Groupon on the verge of expiring. Ah, and there are so many from which to choose!
So, back to the boy babysitter. He's just in sixth grade, and it was his very first time babysitting. In his favor he's what you call a "good kid" and a neighbor, plus his mother was going to be home. He rode his bike over and had it propped against the hedge, which still makes me smile just thinking about it.
I've got a theory that sometimes the younger babysitters are actually better because the age difference is not as big. Plus they are not too cool to really play. In fact I think he had real fun playing with Sam, which is great. And boy, did his eyes bug out of his head when we paid him! It was better than Christmas morning. As Daddy Mac said later, "It was worth it just to see the expression on his face!" And it was. He's not just a good kid; he's a really good kid.
When I asked Sam for his favorite thing about having a boy babysitter, he didn't hesitate for a second. He replied, "Because he's a boy!" Enough said.
LibbY
In fact, he has already planned out what he and his buddy are going to do next time. Of course it involves more LEGOs, a few more rounds of Trouble (the version with R2D2), and reading some spooky Halloween books. Sounds like a plan. Now we need to find somewhere to go! Maybe we'll go use up a restaurant Groupon on the verge of expiring. Ah, and there are so many from which to choose!
So, back to the boy babysitter. He's just in sixth grade, and it was his very first time babysitting. In his favor he's what you call a "good kid" and a neighbor, plus his mother was going to be home. He rode his bike over and had it propped against the hedge, which still makes me smile just thinking about it.
I've got a theory that sometimes the younger babysitters are actually better because the age difference is not as big. Plus they are not too cool to really play. In fact I think he had real fun playing with Sam, which is great. And boy, did his eyes bug out of his head when we paid him! It was better than Christmas morning. As Daddy Mac said later, "It was worth it just to see the expression on his face!" And it was. He's not just a good kid; he's a really good kid.
When I asked Sam for his favorite thing about having a boy babysitter, he didn't hesitate for a second. He replied, "Because he's a boy!" Enough said.
LibbY
Monday, October 10, 2011
The Lowercase "m"
Gosh, I'd never really given the lowercase "m" much thought - or any thought at all for that matter. I don't remember learning it, practicing it, or hearing about it on Sesame Street. It was just always there, doing its thing --- mmmmmm.
Well, in Sam's kindergarten class, every week they study a different letter in both upper case and lower case. So it all started out well enough with his first bit of "homework." The first night he was supposed to write out two rows of capital "M." When he got off the bus, he literally came running in the door and knocked out his capital M's, ready to clear the way for non-stop LEGO-building until bedtime. The M's weren't perfect, mind you, but it was pretty much a non-event.
However, it all changed on Tuesday with the lower case "m." Again he came racing in the door, dying to do his homework so he could be done with it. Only this time I could tell he was already tired, hungry, and frustrated. Not good. "I can't do it! I can't do it!" he lamented. Well, shoot, I went to law school - I have no idea how to teach someone to write "m."
So I tried a couple of different ideas, none of which worked, and he kept getting more and more upset. "You're going to have to do them for me! I CAN'T do it!" Oh my! Where is the Little Engine That Could when you need it? I do have messy handwriting myself, but what would be more obvious than a string of "m"s written by Mommy Mac? "We'll see how it goes." I hedged. Thankfully he didn't have to bring his tablet back to school until Friday, so we had some time to master this confounded letter.
The problem was two-fold -- (1) he couldn't do the curve and (2) he didn't get it that when you draw the first line down, you don't pick up your pencil. Instead you go straight back up and curve. I kept trying to gently remind him to do that. He kept saying that he already was doing it. I think he really thought he was, but between you, me, and the World Wide Web, he just wasn't. Aaargh!
It was time for a break, but he just wanted to get it done, to check the block. I couldn't blame him; I can be the same way, which is probably where he got the idea in the first place. He insisted he wasn't hungry for anything, but it was obvious he was, very obvious. I finally resorted to offering him Cheetos, the first time I've ever offered them to him. He loves them as do I, but I try to ration them out as a super-special treat only when he asks specifically asks for them. We can all agree that the distinctive orange color does not look like it comes from nature but from the ravages of nuclear war.
So after that quick radioactive snack and a thorough handwashing, he was right back at it. No surprise, it still wasn't working, and he was about to burst into tears. "Let's take a break," I suggested again. He shook his head. It was a bit strange to be actively discouraging him from doing his homework! What was going on here? I told him, "Sam, sometimes the best thing you can do is take a break." Man, wish I had learned that lesson at his age! Then I even suggested he get on the computer and check out some LEGO videos, another big first on the offering board. He took me up on it, thank God.
A while later, we started it up again. Again he lamented, "They still look like small capital 'M's!" And they did. Oy vey. That curve thing was still not happening. "Let's take another break and try it again before bed," I suggested. That too was another no-go. I felt bad for him because he was trying so hard, but it just wasn't clicking. Maybe I was going to have to write those two rows of m's for him come Friday after all.
In the morning after a good night's sleep, he sat down all on his own. Nonchalantly he cranked out a truly beautiful row of lowercase m's, curves and all. Wow, what a shocker! I was so impressed! Big phew!
Spurred on by this come-from-behind victory, we moved onto the next night's homework which was to draw a picture of something that begins with an "m." So I nonchalantly suggested, "Just draw a mouse or something like that" and sauntered off to get ready for the day. When I checked his tablet an hour or so later, I was flabbergasted. There on the paper was a picture of a woman with straight brown hair and pink lipstick who had a big smile on her face. Below it he had written, "mom."
LibbY
Well, in Sam's kindergarten class, every week they study a different letter in both upper case and lower case. So it all started out well enough with his first bit of "homework." The first night he was supposed to write out two rows of capital "M." When he got off the bus, he literally came running in the door and knocked out his capital M's, ready to clear the way for non-stop LEGO-building until bedtime. The M's weren't perfect, mind you, but it was pretty much a non-event.
However, it all changed on Tuesday with the lower case "m." Again he came racing in the door, dying to do his homework so he could be done with it. Only this time I could tell he was already tired, hungry, and frustrated. Not good. "I can't do it! I can't do it!" he lamented. Well, shoot, I went to law school - I have no idea how to teach someone to write "m."
So I tried a couple of different ideas, none of which worked, and he kept getting more and more upset. "You're going to have to do them for me! I CAN'T do it!" Oh my! Where is the Little Engine That Could when you need it? I do have messy handwriting myself, but what would be more obvious than a string of "m"s written by Mommy Mac? "We'll see how it goes." I hedged. Thankfully he didn't have to bring his tablet back to school until Friday, so we had some time to master this confounded letter.
The problem was two-fold -- (1) he couldn't do the curve and (2) he didn't get it that when you draw the first line down, you don't pick up your pencil. Instead you go straight back up and curve. I kept trying to gently remind him to do that. He kept saying that he already was doing it. I think he really thought he was, but between you, me, and the World Wide Web, he just wasn't. Aaargh!
It was time for a break, but he just wanted to get it done, to check the block. I couldn't blame him; I can be the same way, which is probably where he got the idea in the first place. He insisted he wasn't hungry for anything, but it was obvious he was, very obvious. I finally resorted to offering him Cheetos, the first time I've ever offered them to him. He loves them as do I, but I try to ration them out as a super-special treat only when he asks specifically asks for them. We can all agree that the distinctive orange color does not look like it comes from nature but from the ravages of nuclear war.
So after that quick radioactive snack and a thorough handwashing, he was right back at it. No surprise, it still wasn't working, and he was about to burst into tears. "Let's take a break," I suggested again. He shook his head. It was a bit strange to be actively discouraging him from doing his homework! What was going on here? I told him, "Sam, sometimes the best thing you can do is take a break." Man, wish I had learned that lesson at his age! Then I even suggested he get on the computer and check out some LEGO videos, another big first on the offering board. He took me up on it, thank God.
A while later, we started it up again. Again he lamented, "They still look like small capital 'M's!" And they did. Oy vey. That curve thing was still not happening. "Let's take another break and try it again before bed," I suggested. That too was another no-go. I felt bad for him because he was trying so hard, but it just wasn't clicking. Maybe I was going to have to write those two rows of m's for him come Friday after all.
In the morning after a good night's sleep, he sat down all on his own. Nonchalantly he cranked out a truly beautiful row of lowercase m's, curves and all. Wow, what a shocker! I was so impressed! Big phew!
Spurred on by this come-from-behind victory, we moved onto the next night's homework which was to draw a picture of something that begins with an "m." So I nonchalantly suggested, "Just draw a mouse or something like that" and sauntered off to get ready for the day. When I checked his tablet an hour or so later, I was flabbergasted. There on the paper was a picture of a woman with straight brown hair and pink lipstick who had a big smile on her face. Below it he had written, "mom."
LibbY
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