I took Little-E to her first baseball game this weekend.

So this past weekend, as she sat next to me, wide-eyed and excited before the very first pitch of her very first baseball game, I saw every image like it was in slow motion, knowing I'd remember it for the rest of my life.

tags: baseball, dad stuff
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I always pictured myself living someplace really urban. New York, London, blah blah. Anyplace that looked, moved and felt like a movie city. Because I'm gritty. Like Rocky. Or at least the cast of Fame.

Then I moved to Austin. They let the hippies win here -- practically all the time -- so, in spite of the expanding population, the place feels like an inflated getaway burg for slackers, directionless hipsters, and perennial college students.

It's a fine place for someone of my disposition. That being said, I'm occasionally wistful for a more metropolitan existence.

So. Earlier this week, I told Little-E that she and I would not only spend our afternoon amongst the in-your-face, take-no-prisoners world of Austin's downtown grid (yes, I'm totally exaggerating), but we'd take an elevator straight to the top of the one and only skyscraper, and see our fair city from above. It'd be like the "highest room in the tallest tower" fairy tale princess shit she's always talking about, but not so fucking lame and misogynistic.

Pause. Before I get any further, I'd like to remind everyone that I haven't worked in an office for more than 2 months -- during which time, I've had exactly one haircut, and I told the stylist I was "growing it out," so that didn't really count. A couple nights ago, I bumped into young professional friend of mine at a bar, where he introduced me to the founder of his company:

Founder: Nice to meet you. Did you meet Young Professional Friend through Kevin?
YP Friend: No, he doesn't know Kevin.
Founder: I was gonna say, you don't look like you'd know Kevin. That guy, boy, he looks like someone who's going straight to the top!

Because, I realized in that moment, an on-the-rise, businessy sorta person would never publicly associate himself with some scrubby freelance writer who spends his afternoons conversing with toddlers and freakin' out soccer moms at the park. THANK FUCK, I cried, inside. I'm finally where I wanna be. UNEMPLOYABLE.

Ok, back to the "Austin isn't so urban" story. We walk into this shiny, pristine example of the city's healthy economy, getting odd, sideways glances from well-dressed, good-lookin' people that make waves all day at whatever kick-ass company they work for that can afford such intimidating office space. I had no idea what we'd find at the top floor -- at best, a viewing tower (because don't all tall buildings have those for tourists?), or, at the very least, a bemused receptionist that would let Little-E do whatever she wanted, even though she was accompanied by some derelict with a beard.

We strolled over to the elevator, pushed the button, and as the doors start to close, a rather large security guard stops us and asks: "Can I help you, sir?" in a tone that says: "Don't be fooled, I can, and will kick your ass if I have to." Uhh. (What's so important up there, I wonder?) Obviously, we're not supposed to be here, but fuck it, this is a very cute child, and you'd be surprised how many doors that opens.

"We're going to the top."

But no, he politely but ass-kickingly informed us, no one goes to the top except the people who live there. And I obviously wasn't the sort of person who could afford the most expensive property in the city, nor would I know anyone who could afford the most expensive property in the city (maybe this is where Kevin lives?) so we were politely shuffled out of the elevator and back onto the street (which is probably where we came from).

This is not a city.

Not because rich people take all the good stuff -- I'm sure that happens everywhere -- but because any tall building that was erected deliberately as one big, honkin', our-dick-is-bigger-than-yours phallic symbol for the surrounding area ought to be accessible to me, my kid, and every other red-blooded American who wants to instill his toddler with overly romanticized notions of urban living. It's no Sears Tower, but it's all we got, and I'm locked out, and I'm whining about it!

Little-E didn't care. We walked down the street and played in the park. She ran around some statue over and over and over while a homeless guy took a nap and I tried to think of other tall buildings we might be able to sneak into.

Then the mayor walked by talking on his cell phone. The fucking mayor.

Weird.

tags: Austin, Frost Bank Tower, Will Wynn
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Months ago, when Little-E was first learning about emotions, we showed her the ropes by having her mimic a series of simple facial expressions. (A smile for "happy face," a frown for "sad face," etc.) I swear this had nothing to do with our own amusement, in any way. At all. Even when I encouraged Little-E to show us her "mafia face," which is accomplished by holding your hand palm up, touching your thumb to your other four fingers, and wagging that hand in a menacing fashion while saying "fuggetta 'bout it." Totally would've happened on it's own, we just wanted to -- you know -- give nature a boost.

E has progressed considerably since those early days, and can explain -- in seemingly infinite detail -- the many varied ways in which your actions displease her. (And she's sometimes very sweet.) But more importantly, these advances have led to a new, wholly awesome emotional experience: "rockstar face."

This actually did happen on it's own, with no prodding or manipulation from any of her parents. A few friends and I were with E at a coffee shop when she suddenly burst out with "HEY HEY! WATCH THIS!" and then pulled out the face. It was at this point that I just about peed myself.

So we named it rockstar face, pretty much so we could get her to do it over, and over and over again.

Then, because I can't leave well enough alone, and the two of us spend so much time together that mischief is literally begging to take place, I gave Little-E an old-time variation on her happenin' new look.

These are the important things we teach our children.

tags: Disco Face, The Important Things We Teach Our Children
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Little-E is out of town this weekend, so we did our Easter celebrating this morning. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon doing this:

How much does that just fucking kick ass?

Happy Easter, or Passover, or whatever you like to do this time of year.

tags: Easter, Bubbles
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