Keep the Pop Hopping Popping

HOP POP We like to hop. 
We like to hop on top of Pop. 
STOP You must not hop on Pop.

--Dr. Suess

No, actually they must hop on Pop. You can hear it in earnest, in their gleeful squeals.

"Daddy, we want to jump on you!"

All right. Fine. Jump, jump, jump around. Jump, jump, jump around. Ugh. Whoosh--

That was the air rushing out of me as Beatrice, nearly twice the size and weight of her little sister, jumped on my midsection. Even with pillows and stuffed animals galore on top me, the physics of impact are inescapable. At least Beatrice telegraphs her jumps so I can plan for impact and the roll off.

"Daddy, more jumps!"

Bryce, on the other hand, is much lighter and easier to deflect, but is more fearlessly random than her big sister. There's no time to set or reset with her -- as soon as I think I've got her pattern figured out, I don't, and the shelling of Daddy mountain commences while my core workouts continue.

"Daddy!"

"No more jumps."

"Yes, more jumps!"

And then there's the daddy-handling of picking them up and flipping them upside and landing them safely on our couch or cuddle chair, kind of like a kiddie catch-and-release program.

Sigh. But of course, I wouldn't have it any other way, even if days later I feel beat up, bruised with specific muscles and tendons contorted and sore.

I know these days will one day pass, and that the Mama and I will reminisce about them all while the girls grow into young strong, caring women and have lives of their own.

But these days are now, and I want to ensure they have a strong, caring male role model and an involved father in their life they can trust (even if I'm a little gruff sometimes), one that I never had as a child, only experiencing later as a teenager with my Pop (although I never hopped on him, of which he was surely thankful and grateful). Their pragmagical Mama's got everything else covered, so for that I'm always thankful and grateful.

Yes, these days are now, so let's keep the Pop hopping popping.

Stop, Bryce! You must not hop on Pop. Ugh.

Daddy Day in Monterey

He beat me 3 to 1.

With the kids, that is, at least for our Daddy Day in Monterey. One of my best friends from college; a man like me who never thought he would have children (or really wanted them, until he did).

And now we do. The score is actually 3 to 2, but I didn't take Bryce with me this time, only Beatrice. Just a little fun Daddy time with the elder B.

But my friend, Troy? He has a three. A four-year-old and two two-and-a-year-old twins (boy and a girl).

I thought giving the Mama and me a badge of honor for surving the B-hive on our recent family vacation was worthy.

However, a soon-to-be-divorced dad with three little kids? I was in awe on how he managed all three, with a loving but firm, efficient style, whether it was out our house, at the Monterey Bay Aquarium or during lunch at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co.

And we had an amazing time. The kids were good at almost every turn and Bea was thrilled to bits to play with Troy's oldest. If we lived closer, we'd be getting together more often. We don't, though, so these times are precious.

One of the precious moments was when all the kids were next to me and I was telling Beatrice to look at the camera. I then imagined what it would be like to have five children.

And I passed out.

When I awoke, another precious moment was watching Bea chase a penguin swimming around in the tank -- or more accurately, watching the penguin swim around and chase Bea.

For 10 minutes I watched and reveled in the world of an almost three-year-old. The whole week prior to going we built up the aquarium buzz for Bea, and almost every time we asked her what she wanted to see, she said:

"Penguin!"

There you go, baby. There you go.

And in the space between me and Bea, there is none.

I was only gone for a few days this week for a conference, but while I was away Bea grew and grew and grew...

Really. She looks so much bigger. She's so much more animated.

It's as if she emanates a soft, rainbow aura that is silky to the touch and smells of flowers and sun.

Each time I hold her close I'm more the dad I never had as a child.

My daddy play includes throwing her in the air above my head -- her golden spun hair flying, her smile ever-widening.

And in the space between me and Bea, there is none.