Lefty Limbo

My iPhone isn’t known for its fast shutter speed, but by pure luck I was able to snap this one off a split-second before lil’ Greg had his very first rain puddle splash. Weird thing is, I don’t even remember taking this picture. It must have happened by a slip of the finger just before I started shooting video of his adventure. At first glance, it looks like he’s just stepping off the curb. Upon closer inspection, it turns out he’s completely airborne, frozen in the air for that one brief instant before the cataclysmic shattering of the glassy mirrored universe beneath him.

He had so much fun. Puddle splashing is definitely something I never did as a kid—I never even had rain boots, come to think of it. However, I did make tremendous splashes and skids in puddles on my BMX bike. That was awesome back in my day.

Looks awesome, but I wanna be an Engineer!

Growing up in the ’70s, I had two fave toys—Hot Wheels and Tyco trains (HO scale). Although each were fun to play with, I never could fully integrate the two worlds together. For one, I was really detail oriented, and even at an early age I knew that HO Scale (1:86) and the Hot Wheels (1:64) didn’t match.

I’m sure a lot of kids my age were into the same thing, and wondered why big toy companies like Mattel never made an ultimate playset that combined railways with roadways. I guess we made do with what we had back then.

On my latest excursion to Toys R’ Us, though, I saw a huge section boasting Tomy’s latest launch of the Tomica system, which presents a fully customizable, expandable world of—yup, you guessed it—cars and trains, complete with interlocking roadways and railways and detailed buildings and people. It was awesome to say the least, and I spent quite a few minutes there, muttering to myself the golden phrase that many other 30-to-40-something males would say—”Man, where were you when I was a kid?”

It was almost the perfect gift idea for my kid, who seems to have followed in his father’s footsteps of Hot Wheels and trains, having amassed about 300 cars in his collection, and a 4×6 Geo Trax train layout. Although he hasn’t really shown any frustration in the impossible seamless melding of the two toy genres, Tomica seemed like just the thing to do it.

Yup, at a glance, Tomica seems to build the perfect world, not only to bond the world of cars and trains, but also to bond father and son—one for his expanding mind, and the other for his sentimental one. But Dear Tomy, you’re missing one crucial thing when it comes to the train part—interactivity.

It’s cool and all to put some batteries in there to have the train travel its track. But take a hint from Geo Trax (and even Thomas The Train’s Trackmaster series)—kids and dads love being able to play engineer and drive the trains themselves with remote controls. There’s just nothing like it.

I’d honestly say that’s the one thing that’s keeping me (and most likely other parents and kids) from being a customer and contemplating on sweeping up the 4×6 Geo Trax layout and converting it to a full-fledged Tomicaland. ‘Coz you’ve definitely got all the other bases covered. C’mon…with all that level of detail, is it really that hard to push it just a bit further?

Anaheim flew by in the sky, while the world whispered with the voice of a thousand volts which pushed us along through a future imagined in the past…

If there’s one thing I notice about being a father, it’s the constant recall of my son’s infancy…a sentimental sigh over the times when he was so oblivious to the world around him, but taking it in all the same, in big wide eyes that knew not right or wrong.

Older now, he is still that ever-absorbent sponge, but now as commentating as he is curious, with my wife and I constantly on the ready to supply the data he needs to fill his banks. Now, more than ever, we make as much a world of difference to him as the world itself, as he trusts our every answer, listens intently to our intentions, and inhales his vocabulary with our every breath.

Where do all the words go? They’re transferred in new, insightful conversations with his peers in a language that us adults can now understand, when before we were as oblivious as babies ourselves, to his communicative giggles and gurgles which probably had the exact same meanings.

Yes, now the world makes sense to him. What may have been just a nice view in the front of Disneyland’s Monorail has now evolved into a complete, thrilling adventure high in the night sky, alongside his buddy Brandon as they both took flight, free from our sheltering wings to fly on their own.

Their delight is spoken to each other over the din of the engine, when before they did nothing more than squeak and squeal. I smile as I listen to their conversation, running my hands over the molded interior of the monorail’s cockpit, remembering when it was a pure childhood fantasy of mine to be where he is now. I never knew one could ride up front when I was a kid. It turns out, all I had to do was ask.

Then that bittersweet taste arrived once more, with the realization that as I grew closer to my son, so did I too prepare him for his departure…

With my folks in town for the week, I took advantage and spent an afternoon with my kid and my dad at Toes Beach, Westchester’s local surf spot which was my second summer home as a kid.

This was truly a memorable event; as simple and mundane as it may have seemed, it was the first time three generations—and three Gregs—of the Narvas clan gathered on the shore. My head tingled when I realized that.

The littlest Greg had a blast with his new Bruder© CAT Grader (which is totally awesome, btw)—the beach sand couldn’t have been a more perfect landscape for him to peruse. In the meantime, the same landscape also served as an immense canvas for my dad and I to build sand castles, using the super-cool Lakeshore Make-A-Castle Sand Molds. Enjoy…oh and also, see if you can spot the Pinoy squat. =)

I try to entertain my kid outdoors as much as possible. I figure it’s the least I can do to get him to appreciate his natural surroundings…before we go back inside and play Atari

Anyways, the Sugar Daddy strikes again. Greg really loves seeing how the ants mob the blob—and this time they were on it like white on rice. They must’ve been hungry from that long walk.

Imagine Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit” tune playing right now with these ants about to breakdance battle on top of the blob, eh? What better way to work off that sugar rush.

I enhanced this one a little with an unsharp mask in Photoshop. I’m not sure if I caught some surface tension in that blur to the left of the ant’s head, but it’s still amazing how these ants can walk on top of the liquid surface.

I’ve always liked ants’ butts (I know, I know…they’re abdomens). They look like little brown Christmas tree lights. I’ve heard they leave trails with their butts to lead the other ants to spectacular finds like this gigantic blob which appeared out of nowhere. I wonder if the other ants smelled the trail and went, “WTF! Are you serious?!! I’m SO there dood!”

I also wonder if ants talk like surfers.

Life is sweet for these ants.

I’ve always been fascinated with insects. It seems the smaller they are, the more my fascination.

Years ago, I remember seeing some spilled Coke (the soft drink) on the ground. Upon closer inspection, I saw an army of ants lined up along the sugary puddle’s entire perimeter, perfectly side by side, with each of their mandibles dipped into the coagulating liquid. They were all completely fixated and still, save for their antennae, which seemed to stroke the Coke lovingly.

I wondered what the hell they liked about Coke, then I figured it had to be the sugar.

In an effort to show lil’ Greg all of Earth’s natural wonders, I decided to perform my own rendition of the phenomena years ago. I didn’t have any Coke on hand, so I made my own concoction out of a pinch of pure sugar mixed with a drop or two of water. I’d shown him an ant trail before, and have even shown him how to feed the ants. But this sugary treat would be a first flight.

I explained to him that ants really love sugar, and proceeded to place a tiny drop of the sweet syrup right in the path of an ant trail in the front yard. Within a matter of seconds, the ants surrounded the blob, first inspecting the strange arrival then immediately piercing it with their mandibles, much to the delight of lil’ Greg, who exclaimed, “Look Daddy! They’re eating!”

Spreading Diabetes an ant colony at a time.

Once again, the ants displayed that same, focused intake, poised with their antennae seemingly stroking the blob. When I look at the pictures, I notice that their mandibles are barely touching it. I wonder if they’re somehow channeling the syrup between their mandibles with suction.

I’d like to perform a series of experiments, each using a different substance. If I do, I’ll be sure to share.

There was a time when he would sit at the top of this slide, timid and reluctant. “Go, Greg, go!” I would encourage. He would look at the distance from top to sand and gulp. “No daddy, I wanna go with you!” In hopes of reducing his dependence, I would continue to encourage him to go alone. “You can do it!” I’d say, in the oh-so-typical parental tone of possibilities. And he wouldn’t. Not yet. He would either turn and walk away; or I’d end up riding tandem with him.

Then one day, he sits at the top of the same slide with a look of determination. “You can do it!” I’d repeat, maintaining that core of confidence. He sits, then shifts…discovering that the ride would be so much more exciting another way…and he flies head first into the sand below, with the heartwarming glee that only a child can muster.

I laugh with him, dusting him off…happy at his initiative and dare-deviledness…and somewhere inside, as I realize how time flies…I grow timid and reluctant.

There’s those stories of parents who try to turn their kids into child prodigies; shape them into “trophies” which they can show off—stories like Joy Luck Club and even Little Miss Sunshine.

As much as I try to encourage my kid to play drums, I never force him…although there is something in me that says I should be teaching him more often than I have been. He definitely shows interest, and plays his drumset without even being asked to (as in above).

I often wonder how important it is to nurture such things…like, if I was just to leave him on autopilot, would he keep playing at his own leisure and eventually get better? Or does that tiny ounce of extra encouragement from me make all the difference in the world as to whether or not he ends up playing the drums in the future?

Ah, the unending wonders of fatherhood.

Oh, and yes, if you haven’t noticed yet, I did make some changes around here. =)