Is there anything more important in a young man's life than the first time he loses a tooth? Well, I mean aside from his first time walking, talking, sleeping away from home, riding a bike, conducting the Royal Philharmonic, dating Madonna, etc.

For Aidan, 5, the moment he discovered his tooth was loose was wonderous and magical. He would wiggle it with his finger, push it with his tongue and show it to pretty much anyone who could stomach it. He would talk about it incessantly, asking what would happen when it came out, what if he lost it, how would the Tooth Fairy know where he lived, what would happen if she couldn't find it under his pillow, and on and on. In this, he was certainly a normal kid.

I remember when I would loose a tooth. It was fascinating and bizarre and seemed absolutely wrong and super cool all at once. Sometimes it hurt a little, but mostly it was just gross - so that made it awesome! It was also regarded as another step toward growing up. I was losing my "baby teeth," which meant I was no longer a baby. I was so excited about it, I regularly went to biker bars and pushed over as many motorcycles as I could, in the hope that someone would knock all my teeth out and I could speed jump into adolescence. I can tell you, it's not easy to push motorcycles over when you're 5, but the payoff would be tremendous.

Aidan spent the few "Wiggling Tooth Days" just being happy with the situation, and if you really think about it, that's odd. But even weirder than that, were the reaction he received from his peers. One little friend of his was absolutely crestfallen that Aidan could lose a tooth before she did. She cried about it and was obviously angry when the subject came up. I had to tell Aidan, "Now don't brag about your tooth being loose. You know that could hurt some kids' feelings."

I swear he looked at me with an expression that said, "Yeah, right. Whatever dude. Like I'm not going to talk and talk and talk about this. Heck, this is going on YouTube."

When the tooth came out, in the middle of a pool party, he skidded inside the host's house looking for me, soaking wet with a little blood in his mouth, holding the tooth like King Arthur held Excalibur, with the same look of delirious joy on his face. His voice, three octaves higher than usual, shook with delight.

When he returned to the party, all the kids were talking about their Tooth Fairy experiences. While the grownups told stories about getting dimes and quarters as prizes, one little girl explained how she was given $5 for her first tooth. Aidan looked at me wide-eyed with a bloody, semi-toothless grin that took over his head.

And knowing full well Aidan would not get more than $1, I told him the one thing every parent probably tells their excited, hopeful, ecstatic child. "Sorry buddy, I think the Tooth Fairy likes her a lot more than she likes you."

Labels: boy, first, parenting, teeth, tooth

This morning, Aidan, 5, his mom, Wendy, and I were invited down to one of Philadelphia's most wonderful kids' attractions, the Please Touch Museum, for a media day event. Since Aidan is always looking for an excuse to go down there (and I am always looking for an excuse to be a dopey 41-year-old kid), we leapt at the chance. It was a great roadtrip for the Kayes of Abington.

For those of you with children in your lives who have not gone to PTM, shame on you. PTM, now located in a magnificent Fairmount Park setting, is chock full o' good times. From the water area (Aidan's favorite) to the space section (my favorite), PTM keeps kids involved with everything. And it teaches them along the way, which is also a nice thing to do on a hot summer day.

The reason for the media day was to experience the newest installment of the Please Touch Playhouse theater for children. The show, "Getting There," an interactive, imaginative retelling of how modes of transportation came to be, was funny, well done and kept everyone's attention - even dopey 41-year-old kids.

Then, while we were admiring everything, we were approached by a TV news crew filming a story on the Playhouse series. Aidan was asked if he would be willing to talk on camera about it and (after a little cajoling) he agreed. It was great to meet the very nice Joey Fortman, a reporter from "Better Philly" (myphl17, weekdays at 8 a.m.) and Aidan was given the chance to tell the world how much he loves PTM and the series. (He really does. I am not kidding.)

Now, being that I am in the media (albeit far, far, far, far in the distance), I know the segment that hits the air might not include Aidan. better yet, the segment won't include me. But it was great for the museum, and its wonderful pr guru Frank Luzi, to get some much deserved praise.

If you have a chance, go see the museum. The kids will love it. And if you're smart, you'll get a membership (like we have). And if you're really, really smart, you'll contact "Better Philly" and beg them to put Aidan on TV.

Labels: Better Philly, myphl17, Please Touch Museum, theater

Aidan, 5, has taken to water like, well, I was going to say a fish but that sounds a little too obvious. Let's say he has taken to it like a 5-year-old boy who loves to swim. Yes, that's far more witty.

As I continue the never-ending excitement that is "Learning All About Aidan," I have been delighted to find out how much the water means to him. At his camp, he swims twice a day and that is fantastic. He has two great teachers - Alex and Dan - who are young and full of mirth and craziness (just like Aidan likes it). His camp day is complete only when he has been tossed around the pool, gone underwater to touch the bottom, and has wound up absolutely exhausted. On the few days where there has been rain and the swimming curtailed, he is heartbroken. "Tomorrow," I tell him. "There's always tomorrow."

He has taken this love for swimming to his weekends, too, strongarming his grandparents to take him to his great-grandmother's pool. There he suns himself, swims for hours on end, and charms the heck out of 85-year-old women. He is funny and full of life, and I dare say, I think he makes some of the residents very, very happy.

When the family goes to a pool party, you better have Aidan's suit on him. Like a moth to the flame, he lunges poolside and is reluctant to exit until the car is running, the sun has gone down and he has been repeatedly threatened with a loss of nighttime books and songs.

I admit, I was not unlike the boy when I was a child. If there was a pool to be found, I was in it. I liked to sink to the bottom and push off, like Superman escaping Earth's gravity. I would dive for coins, attack friends with inflatables and fling myself off of diving boards.

Now, three decades later, I get to watch an insane nearly-4-foot-tall lunatic who does the same thing. And what am I doing? Jumping in beside him. After all, there are coins to be found, the children of friends to be attacked and diving boards to throw myself off of.

Hey, there's no way I can let Aidan have ALL the fun.

Aidan, 5, is unbelievably curious. He needs to know how everything works and why things are the way they are. It doesn't matter the subject matter - buildings, cars, monkeys, the Gross National Product of Argentina - he is consumed with the idea that how something comes to be is of the utmost importance.

Yesterday, that took the form of the dismantling of an old portable heater. At 6 a.m., he and I found ourselves sitting on the floor of our very dirty, very messy basement, staring at said heater longingly. He wanted to see how it worked, why it had stopped working and what pieces were being hidden inside.

So we picked up several screwdrivers and a couple of pliers and went to town. It was like an old Bugs Bunny cartoon. There was a big ball of smoke and all you saw were various hands working feverishly. When we got to a particularly difficult part, I forcefully broke it apart - eliciting squeals of approval - so we could get to the treasure inside.

When it was done, all around us were torn wires, screws and bolts, long pieces of copper, bent metal and broken plastic. True, we didn't learn anything about how a heater worked or why this one broke, but we did see everything inside.

And then Aidan and I looked at each other, with sheepish grins, and he said what every dad wants to hear after such an experience.

"Daddy, that was AWESOME!"

Aidan, 5, is unbelievably curious. He needs to know how everything works and why things are the way they are. It doesn't matter the subject matter - buildings, cars, monkeys, the Gross National Product of Argentina - he is consumed with the idea that how something comes to be is of the utmost importance.

Yesterday, that took the form of the dismantling of an old portable heater. At 6 a.m., he and I found ourselves sitting on the floor of our very dirty, very messy basement, staring at said heater longingly. He wanted to see how it worked, why it had stopped working and what pieces were being hidden inside.

So we picked up several screwdrivers and a couple of pliers and went to town. It was like an old Bugs Bunny cartoon. There was a big ball of smoke and all you saw were various hands working feverishly. When we got to a particularly difficult part, I forcefully broke it apart - eliciting squeals of approval - so we could get to the treasure inside.

When it was done, all around us were torn wires, screws and bolts, long pieces of copper, bent metal and broken plastic. True, we didn't learn anything about how a heater worked or why this one broke, but we did see everything inside.

And then Aidan and I looked at each other, with sheepish grins, and he said what every dad wants to hear after such an experience.

"Daddy, that was AWESOME!"

Labels: aidan, dad, dadography, parenting, son

There was a time when a monthly column was, well, monthly. But that was then and this is now and all that has come before has gone away, or changed, or been forgotten. Today, we stand on the edge of a technology that we should have embraced a long time ago - the blog.

For those of you parents out there who don't know what "blog" means, it is from the Latin "queritor," which means "to complain excessively, whine, gripe." Actually, it has nothing to do with that word. But that's what I'll be doing here.

My son, Aidan, is 5, and that pretty much speaks for itself when it comes to anxiety, stress, laughter, embarrassment and exhaustion. I am 41 years old, which also speaks for itself when it comes to anxiety, stress, laughter, embarrassment and exhaustion. He and I are pretty much perfect for each other: I have no idea why he does what he does, and he has no idea why I don't want him to do what he's doing.

I hope you'll share your confusion with me, and will pick up the free monthly magazine Parents Express, within which I have been sharing stories of Aidan in my "Dadography" column for the last six years. If nothing else, it will give you something to do while your child runs around the living room screaming for no apparent reason.