Alive on Sesame Street

On the last Friday of October, my family of four attended Sesame Street Live! @ 1st Summit Arena @ Cambria County War Memorial. Please enjoy this Dad review.

Spoiler Alert: The following blog contains plot details and storyline analysis. Proceed with caution. 

Part 1

Grover is first on stage. We are in "the pit". I could throw a football and hit Grover in his fuzzy blue head. I would never do such a thing, but this is how close we were to the neighborhood.

Music erupts early. A lot of people run around the stage. Abby Cadabby is a part of the human antics. There is some animated narrator on a big screen. A male resident of Sesame Street does a back-flip. Everything is bonkers. There is going to be a community party and there is a friendly discussion on what the theme should be - super hero or beach.

Big Bird jumps out of a video helicopter. He explains he is more like the penguin and ostrich.

Oscar the Grouch sings a terrific ballad about trash. I do not support his sentiments in regard to waste; however, his stinky song is catchy.

When Elmo comes on stage, kids lose their minds. He is the Elvis of Sesame Street. High-pitched and high-energy, the fuzzy red monster lights a fire under the kiddos.

My oldest daughter has to pee. Classic. My youngest daughter watches her mother and big sister scamper out of the "the pit". My youngest daughter cries as if she will never see them again. Cookie Monster explodes out of a gargantuan chocolate chip cookie. A fire is lit under me. I am pretty sure the hair stood up on my arms and I shouted, "YEAH COOKIE!" Apparently, Cookie Monster is my Elvis. It's 1988 all over again.

Intermission (Anarchy)

The purpose of intermission is to test parental stamina. Can you make it to Part 2 without spending money?  We did not. My wife bought my three-year-old a rich-woman's Sno-Cone, one of the easiest treats to enjoy (sarcasm). It could have been worse. What parent bought the $30.00 bubble machine? I want to scold you and thank you at the same time. Nothing brings strange children together like bubbles.

There is a ramp from the pit to the commoners. Security is light. Children run up and down the ramp about as irresponsibly as Bird Bird jumping out of a helicopter. We talk to a mother who has triplets. God help us all.

Grover announces the show will start back up soon. Parents beg Grover to start now. If I had a football, I may have thrown a tight spiral at his fuzzy blue head.

Part 2

Grover plays "Grover Says" on stage with some excited children and their frightened parents. I do not see how this connects to the neighborhood party plot and I am upset.

When Part 2 starts, it flies off the radar screen. It starts snowing. Giant inflattable balls attack the crowd. Lights are flashing everywhere. Everyone is singing and screaming. On the verge of brain freeze from a Sno-Cone no one wants to eat, I am determined to get my money's worth. Surveilance video would have shown a father with his head down using a plastic spoon as a pick axe.

"Sunny Day" takes me back and out of my Sno-Cone solitary confinement. Sesame Street was an instrumental part of my childhood. This show reminded me of the valuable lessons learned on Sesame Street. In a chaotic hour and a half, we learned about compromise, environmental consciousness, a second language, and the importance of community.

What we did not learn?  Where is Ernie? Where is Bert?  This is not 1988. This is 2018 and Ernie and Bert got squeezed out! If you would have told me 20 years ago that Sesame Street Live! would leave out Ernie and Bert, I would have told you to get a life.

The show ends with Oscar the Grouch yelling "SCRAM!"

Amen, Oscar. Amen. 

Be a good neighbor. Love your kids. Support your community. Don't buy Sno-Cones.

Animals of Autumn

This October has been full of life - wildlife. Here are the season's standouts to date:

Snake

My wife and I recently purchased bicycles. We believed that this investment would yield multiple positive results - physical exercise, strengthen our marriage, and give us the ability to pedal away from our children. Maybe one day we will have apparatuses to connect our kids to our bikes, but for now, we want no such appartuses. We want babysitters.

Alas, our first ride in our revived bicycling lives came on the Path of the Flood Trail. On a sunny and comfortable Sunday morning, we were on wheels and headed for the Staple Bend Tunnel. I had run through this old railroad tunnel before. My wife, bless her heart, never went through the tunnel and she forgot to take her sunglasses off. Trailing her, I thought she was just a bit rusty on a bike. Turns out, she was biking blind. It was a world of difference when she realized her error and gained sight.

We ate lunch at a picnic table at the end of the trail. Bending down to reorganize my sling bag for the venture back, I was surprised by a slithery fellow. At approximately 3 feet in length, this motionless reptile eyed me up. With a stick, I gave him a nudge to promote his passage off the trail. The serpent, believed to be a corn snake, went off into the thicket, safe from bicycle tires.

Phil & Smokey

It sounds like a dive bar band, but it is in fact my daughters two favorite participants in the Fort Ligonier Days Parade. The Punxsutwaney groundhog and the bear who tells us, "Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires" drew high praise. Phil, a celebrated rodent, did not look that enthused. Smokey the Bear was waving his paws in omnivore glory.

Buzzards

Our 2nd bike ride of October was on the Ghosttown Trail. After about a 12-mile trek, we looked up at a beautiful blue sky. The yellow sun shined bright. And over a dozen buzzards circled the trees near the Dilltown parking lot, patiently waiting for someone or something to go all black. I did not fear death because I still had my helmet on. Take that, vultures. Safety first.

Shark

This Saturday was the Red Cross Vampire 5K and 10K in Richland. The plan was to bring the whole family in costume, but Dad was the only soul to brave the rain and the chill. I was a shark. Before the race I conversed with Flouder from Little Mermaid. Nice guy.  At one point while running,  I was side-by-side with a chipmunk (Simon). Two teenage girls beat me wearing bloody T-shirts. I smelled the blood, but could not catch them. I did not stay for the award ceremony. I finished 1st in the aquatic animals division.

The Lion and the Cobra

In Psalm 91 for this Sunday it is written: "You will tread on the lion and the cobra". YIKES. What does this mean? Was that a cobra I saw on the Path of the Flood Trail?  I am still trying to figure out my bicycle and The Bible - a lot of gears; a lot of words. I am grateful for my faith and my family - that's the combo that keeps my gears going.

Goodnight Johnstown.

Racoons - stay out of our garbage. It's not funny.

Farm to Table

 As a youngster, I remember the glory and majesty of the field trip. On Friday, I was part of a barnyard brigade led by the teachers @ Geneva Preschool. Amongst 3 and 4 year-olds, I found glory once more in the great outdoors. Here is a recap of a morning @ the Schantz Haus Farm in Davidsville.

Shout with the Sheep

The experience began with an adrenaline pump. Small children eyed up sheep. The sheep, eyes incredibly far apart, approached the children. Between the parties, a fence. Let the loud begin. Outnumbered but not to be intimidated, sheep shouts seized the autumn air. On a brisk October morning, a half dozen or so sheep defeated a dozen + kids in a weird noises showdown.

Hay Ride

For logistical and psychological purposes, the 3 and 4 year-olds were separated after the sheep start. The 3-year-olds and their families got the first shot at the hay ride. I believe this was a strategic move. If the tractor would break down, 4-year-olds would deal better with the disappointment of not getting to do a hay ride. They are more mature. Plus, if the tractor breaks down with a bunch of 3-years-old onboard, they are less inclined to identify tractor terror.

Making a climb up a grassy knoll, our 76-year-old tractor felt much like the Little Engine That Could. Surrounded by corn fields, it felt like we were going to end up in one. Alas, our resident farmer and tractor puller got us to the summit. After surviving the trek, we laid eyes on the graveyard where the founder of Johnstown, Joseph Johns, is laid to rest. It was a beautiful view. We got a little history lesson and got out of there before a 3-year-old asked if bodies are buried under those statutes.

Red Angus

For the cow encounter, I focused on one cow that was different than all the rest. I was working on colors with my 1-year-old. Calling this unique mooing beast "brown", I was embarassed. It was actually a "red" angus. Leave the teaching for the educators and the farmers, Dad. That's what my youngest daughter said to me...with her nonverbals.

The Big Machine

If desired, each kid got to climb up a monstrous farm machine and pretend to drive. I have no idea what this big-wheeled thing does. During the explanation, my youngest daughter was fascinated by a rock and I pretended to be; just two cave dwellers roaming the farm. Both my kids got behind the wheel. This was the scariest part of the field trip.

The Big Pee

For the grand finale, we got to go into the sheep enclosure. Think Running of the Bulls except instead of Spain, it's Pennsylvania and there is a wind chill factor. Then, my 3-year-old declares she has to pee. As I wrote last week, there is no thrill in easy access to a bathroom. Escaping a sheep stampede and following a farmer to the potty...now that's glory.

Lunch

What better place to eat after all that farm fun than Crow's Nest?  Keeping the animal theme going, we had great grub. We got a table for 6 for our family of 4. We need extra chairs to climb and excess table to color, spill, push silverware, and pass snacks. Thankfully, our kids left to try to play billards and lottery machines.

A special Thank You to those who teach and those who farm. Geneva Preschool has been a blessing. The Schantz Haus Farm was one happy hay ride of a day. I'm glad I went and we didn't tip over.

Can't wait for my next field trip!

Bedlam to Bedford and Back

On the first Saturday of October, our family went on a road trip. Inspired by Clark Griswald and at the mercy of a bizzare Mother Nature, we crossed county lines in an outrageous Subaru Outback.

Step #1:Install Bike Rack

There was no cycling on this trip. My wife and I just believed we needed to seize the moment. It was sunny; however, installation and parenting do not go together. Then, the clouds decided to unleash rain. So, now we have combined slippery conditions with amateur installation with haphazard supervision. Our children ended up running through the backyard half-naked yet fully satisfied. 

Step #2: Be at Peace with the Pumpkin

Call it a mystery, a tragedy, or an act of vandalism, but there is no denying the following: A creature of the night ate through my wife's jack-o-lantern and it brought her to tears. It bewildered my 3-year-old. My 1-year-old did not care because a slug found refuge in the mangled pumpkin. Security footage might have captured a Halloween-hating raccoon devouring my wife's work of art. But, we do not have security cameras. We don't even have cable. And now, we don't even have a pumpkin. We have an orange, slug house. 

Step #3: Get in the Car

It's a simple, four-word command, but it's sometimes the equivalent of "Walk on the Moon". My wife came out of the house carrying so many bags, you would have thought she was a medic in a war zone. 

Step #4: Find a Parking Spot

Bedford's Fall Foliage Festival attracts a crowd. And on this Saturday, it felt more like summer than autumn. Once we found a place to park, we applied sunscreen. Nothing like a nice October lather. With our kids in hiking packs, my wife and I foot solidered onto the concrete jungle. 

Step #5: Find a Treat

How do you beat the heat? Carmel apple slices. My eldest daughter disagreed with the decision to get slices. This was bush league in her preschool mind. My youngest was less perturbed, but passed. Thus, my wife and I ate carmel apple slices. They were delicious and we were sweaty. 

Step #6: Find a Bathroom 

When you go out into public with small children it always comes down to "finding" things. There is no thrill in having to go to the bathroom when a bathroom is right there. A parent needs that threat level thought that my child might pee their pants and those pants might be on my back. And it's 80 degrees in October and 110 degrees in a porta potty. 

And when you make it to Hebrews Coffee Company and everyone is okay, you celebrate a successful pee. I'll take an Iced Pumpkin Pecan Latte and a Wildberry Smoothie. We just climbed Everest. 

Step #7: Load the Car

Unlike loading a gun, this is much more difficult. Actually, I've never loaded a gun, but it's got to be easier than loading the car. If my wife makes another Jack-O-Lantern and it's eaten by an animal, I'm going to learn how to load a firearm. 

Step #8: Feed the Goats

I hoped that both children would fall asleep on the short drive to Jean Bonnet Tavern. The plan was to eat a late lunch while they slumbered in a booth. Well, only one of them fell asleep (youngest) and the tavern was packed. So, we sacrficed our own hunger and fed seed to the establishment's trio of resident goats. My 3-year-old greatly enjoyed having these wide-eyed beasts eat out of the palm of her hand. 

Step #9: Reload the Car

Clean your goat hands and get in. We are getting on Route 30 and driving off into the sun /rain /sun/ rain. What is going on with Mother Nature?

Step #10: Coal Mining

We wound up at Coal Miner's Cafe in Jennerstown. The outdoor seating was perfect for our wrecking crew. As the apocalypse rolled in from the west, our children got to run wild on the expansive patio. They even found a Daddy Long-Legs camoflauged on the brick wall. We counted his legs and I served as arachnid body guard. While this spider was most likely psychologically damaged, he kept all eight of his long legs and for that, he should be thankful. 

Step #11: Listen to Your Sister

On the ride home I reminded my wife of the threat my oldest daughter gave my youngest on the way to Bedford. In a no-nonsense declaration, "Stop crying or you are going to sleep in my armpit."

Step #12: Rain

As we pulled up to our humble abode, it started raining again. My wife was crying in laughter over the memory of the armpit warning. The half-eaten pumpkin was still in the front yard. It was a full day.

Good night, Johnstown. Take care of your families. Take care of your pumpkins.

Weekend of Dad

On the final Friday of September, my wife drove to Virginia for a family wedding. She returned on Sunday afternoon. I was master and commander of our home. Separated by 26 months, my daughters were my primary responsibility. The breakdown:

Dance Dad

Right out of the gates - a true test. While my parents watched my youngest, I took my 3-year-old to ballet and tap class at Concepts Dance Studio on Friday night. This was my first time in a dance studio; not as a father, but as a human. My daughter was unaware of how unqualified I was. Surrounded by Dance Moms and behind the glass window, I awkwardly stood, pretending I was at a hockey game.

Post-dance I made sure to congratulate my daughter. I focused on how dedicated she was in keeping a straight line during a ballet sequence. This was because I was geninuely impressed and it was the only honest commentary I could make. A special "Thank You" to the Concepts instructors.

LET'S GO PENS!

Daddy Dia

To conclude the evening, my girls and I watched Momma Mia on Netflix. This is not because we were looking for symmetry after dance class. This is because my 1-year-old yearns for Momma Mia on a daily basis. I believe she has dance and sung with Meryl Streep every day since mid-August.

Run Dad

On Saturday morning, I ran away. It was planned. My parents watched my Thelma and Louise while I participated in the 10th running of the Conemaugh Que Classic, a glorious autumn 5K. Six autumns prior,  I laced up for my first 5K at the Quemahoming Dam. I had no kids. I was 4 months into marriage. In 2018, it felt weird to be at the Que Classic with no wife, no kids, and to have a post-race cinnamon roll I did not have to share.

I ate the whole thing.

Party Dad

Hours later, I was at a 1-year-old's birthday party. It was outside and featured a gated balloon community (a designated driveway area for balloons and children, featuring a protective pad to roll upon), a bubble machine, an ice cream sundae bar, crafts galore, cheese curls, and of course, fire. Parents talked to parents about how easy life was. When we got home, my 3-year-old fell asleep at 6:50 PM and slept until 6:00 AM on Sunday. I can't wait for this kid's 2nd birthday.

Leap of Faith Dad

Our family regularly attends a fellowship known as Cafe Sunday @ Mill House Cafe in Westmont. It gives our children creative license when it comes to Bible learning. I am all about exposing my daughters to a spiritual smorgasbord and so far, so good. Mill House Sundays has evolved into something I absolutely look forward to and my kids get a kick out of the experience. "Meditations of my heart" was the big takeway on the final Sunday of September.

I love my girls and was ready for my wife to come home.

Friendship Dad

But, there was still one more adventure. I picked up my mother and it was all aboard to Friendship Park in Ligonier. As part of our American Ninja Warrior circuit, Friendship Park offers a wide-range of challenges including a rock wall, shaky, ascending bridge, and a gigantic mushroom balance test. I pretend to be a highly paid announcer to the Ninja Sisters.

After the exercise, we refueled at Carol and Dave's Roadhouse. We toasted to our achievements on the outdoor deck. A pesky bumble bee yearned for our lemonade like it was Momma Mia. My family survived and some how, so did the bee.

Mom!

When we got home, my daughters and I welcomed our leader back. Mom was proud of our adventures and glad there were no catastrophes. From dancing to running to partying to faith leaping to Ninja warrioring, we did it.

As Abba says, "having the time of your life!"

Lawn Mower Dad

I cut the grass to conclude the weekend. Sorry, Meryl. This isn't a Greek island. This is real life.