Crazy-Pops

The other day I was feeding the Mixmaster and the G-Man some Mac and Cheese for dinner and, being the fully conscientious parent that I am, I had mixed some peas in it for greenery. And because, frankly, feeding straight Mac and Cheese to my boys makes me feel guilty, as much as caving in to their demands for Happy Meals makes me feel guilty (I'm afraid that one of them might end up like of Don Gorse, that guy in "Supersize Me" who's eaten a Big Mac every day since 1972), I have to mix in something pseudo "nutritious" with Mac and Cheese to make it palatable to, yes, my conscience.

Anyhow, the problem with the above scenario is that if the boys catch on to it, it backfires. "Dad, what the hell are these? I thought we were having Mac and Cheese! Mac and Cheese doesn't have little balls in it that taste like - yuck - vegetables! I'M NOT EATING THIS CRAP!" So, being the fully conscientious parent that I am, I offer an explanation to this reasoning: "Son, those are magic peas."

Which, as you can imagine, always works. What kid doesn't want to eat magic peas, right? And last week it didn't work, as usual. But then the Mixmaster said something that belies his five long years on this earth and made me stop and ponder for quite a while. His response to my magic peas? "Dad, there's nothing magic in this whole world."

Now literally, we all know that's true. But figuratively, it's not true at all. And I'd like to be able to tell him that, without it being a total "Daddy Lecture" which, more often than not, gets tuned out faster than a Captain and Tennille song in my Jeep. So here's what I'd like to do. Let's start a list. On this blog. Please comment with things that are 'magic' to you. After a month or two of commenting, I'll print the comments out and put it in his 'box' where we keep all the souvenirs of his early life. That way, when he's older and really feels that there's nothing magic in this whole world, he can pull the list out and get some good examples of what is truly magic. And, maybe, some perspective as well.

I'll start. And I'll add more later:

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Springtime is magic, especially the part where you can spend a day putting fresh plants into the ground in hopes that this year your green thumb shows itself instead of your black thumb.

River pools are magic.

An appreciative look from somebody you care about is magic.

A smile from somebody you've never seen before is magic.

Watching real live trains with your children is magic.

Learning how to play a musical instrument is magic.

Comedy improvisation, when it's good, is magic. When it's bad, it's torture.

Live theater, when it's good, is magic. When it's bad, it's torture.

Neil Finn songs are magic.