I don't think my mother was ever on the PTA and I KNOW my father wasn't. Both were awfully busy when I was in school: my mom with work and college, my dad with work and with not being around. So all I knew about the PTA was what I saw on TV - "Harper Valley PTA" and such. (Yes, I am that old.)

So after Aidan began kindergarten a few weeks back, we saw a notice on the school calendar that the PTA was meeting on a Thursday night. Wendy couldn't do it, but my schedule was a little flexible that night so I thought I'd go. I didn't give it too much thought, thankfully, because I probably would have convinced myself not to go, and would have missed an enlightening experience.

The place was pretty packed when I got there and I stood around looking dopier than usual as I tried to figure out what to do. Everybody seemed to be talking to someone, or filling out their names on forms or appearing equally comfortable with what was expected. But all I could think of doing is walking around looking at things and smiling nervously at whoever would look at me.

Finally I saw someone I knew, a friend of my wife's, and went to say hello. I sat down near her and she started to explain what would happen - speeches, questions answered, calendar of events notices - and I began to feel more comfortable. Then I was tapped on the shoulder by another friend. Things were getting better. Then I saw someone else I knew, and another, and another. Any nervousness I might have been feeling went away. I was still only one of about four or five males in the room, but things seemed OK.

What followed was a series of quick speeches or updates from the president of the PTA, various officers and the school's principal and vice principal. There was a mention of someone named Sally Foster, but she turned out to be some kind of decorating product thingy (as I found out just before asking someone who Ms. Foster was and why everyone would want her).

I was especially made comfortable by the president of the PTA, a young mom who seemed to be very clear that parents today are terribly busy and that money is tight, so that we shouldn't feel obligated to come to every meeting or donate to every fund-raising sheet that came home with our children. She was also very appreciative that we were all there that night and that we were willing to hear her ideas and share our own. I think the fastest way to a person's schedule is through expressions of appreciation.

I honestly enjoyed the evening. It was nice to get a 21st century definition of the PTA and to meet so many interested parents. It was interesting to see that people - no matter how busy they are - want to contribute to their child's life. It was inspiring to hear the projects they had planned for the kids and how we could all play a role.

So I'll be going back to the PTA. I've already signed up for a project and am maintaining an email chat with the PTA president. I'm doing it because I want to, not because anyone is forcing or guilting me into it. I'm also doing it because I want Aidan, 5, to know how much I believe in education. By going to these meetings and getting involved, I hope he'll see his schooling as important, fun and integral to his life.

Me, on the PTA. Hee, hee, hee...

Labels: aidan, education, parenting, PTA, school

It's hot and I'm sweating. The flowers are drooping, the cats are drooping, our droopings are drooping. So what time of year is it? Why, time to get ready for Halloween, of course!

My son, Aidan, 5, loves Halloween. Well, "love" is kind of a weak word for it. Let me explain it thusly - for Aidan, there is no time that is not Halloween-y by its very existence. It is either just past Halloween, or on the way to next Halloween. Oh, well, there's that period of time when it is exactly Halloween, but that date is left open to interpretation...his.

So when we stopped by Michael's Craft Store and saw a few Halloween things lying about, the calendar shifted and summer was virtually at an end. By the time we got home with our $1.99 foam skeleton, costumes had been discussed - for this year and next - and plans were being percolated inside his little skull for a Haunted House unlike anything the world had ever seen.

To be fair, this wasn't his first Halloween jolt. A few months back he saw - oh I don't know - a bird, and that got him to obsessing about how it should be Halloween soon. Suddenly I am making paper ghosts, darkening my home office to make things scary and pretending to be terrified every time I saw the faint glow of a dying flashlight focused on a colored rubber pumpkin from last year.

So here it is August and I'm deep into Halloween territory. I suspect that the next 10 weeks will be chock full of booing and vampires and things that go bump in the night. Well, maybe until 12:01 a.m. November 1, when Christmas slams into the house.

Labels: aidan, autumn, Halloween

If you want to pinpoint the moment at which you first realized that my son, Aidan, 5, was going to be a global phenom, it is right now, in this blog. If you also want to mark the moment at which you came to fully grasp the reality that I have absolutely no charisma or talent, it's here, too.

On a recent trip to Philadelphia's Please Touch Museum for a press preview of their theater program, my family (myself, wife Wendy and offspring Aidan) were asked by a local news crew to appear before the camera. I knew a few things right off the bat: Aidan would say "yes," but would then hide behind me, only to be lured back to the camera after much cajoling and manipulation; my wife would NOT want to appear on camera and would shoot me a terrified, debilitating and vicious glare; and I would spend the entire segment wondering how my advanced age and weight gain would translate to TV - especially in a high-def world.

I nailed all three.

Joey Fortman, the reporter from MyPHL-17's morning show "Better Philly" (and the new afternoon drive host on 97.5fm), approached us kindly and asked us a series of innocent questions, which we appreciated considering Aidan is just in preschool. Fun and comfortable, we answered easily. Then we did it again. And again. And again. And again. They needed several takes to make sure Aidan's quiet voice and "deer caught in headlights" look would register well. That and I think they were a little terrified of the fat, ancient geezer sitting to his left.

And even though I pursued Joey (as well as Please Touch's Frank Luzi) to nail down a broadcast time and whether Aidan would even appear in the piece, we dropped all discussion of it at home. You just don't want to tell a kid he might be on TV more than 3 seconds before the show airs. I could imagine the 135 million times I'd hear "When is it going to be on?" Wouldn't that be fun? Kill me.

When the show aired, I just switched on the TV and Aidan and I watched. He was excited because it was about Please Touch, and he loved seeing the areas and people from the museum he recognized. When he came onscreen, he just sat there for a second without any glimmer of recognition. And then he exploded in joy, screaming, "I'm on TV," before running and jumping around the house and pretty much missing the whole part where he appeared.

So here we are, mere hours after this magical moment happened. Needless to say, I have not been approached by any directors, producers or groupies. I haven't assembled a posse. I have turned away a few autographs, but they were all from sarcastic coworkers. I am starting to think I am not experiencing a life-changing moment.

The one thing I did come to understand is that - even though a kid can have his picture in an award-winning parenting publication every month - there is nothing like seeing yourself on TV. Besides, being dad's magazine is normal, but being on "Better Philly," that is the stuff of legends!

To see the piece, click on the link. (Just look for us about 1:30 into it) http://www.myphl17.com/videobeta/watch/?watch=158bd089-1a74-47a8-9769-705649d708ef&src=front

Labels: aidan, Better Philly MyPHL17, Frank Luzi, Joey Fortman, Please Touch Museum

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