To say the least, it's been a heady couple of weeks. There's a lot going on, and the bombardment of it all has limited my sleep to intermittent, three-hour shifts. When the kids are over, I usually pass out on the couch about an hour after they do. And that's precisely where I was, asleep and oblivious, when the news broke that Osama bin Laden had been shot through the head. Overall, his death didn't have much of an effect on me, mostly because it won't change the indelible effect he's had on our society, or how long and costly our pursuit of him was. Still, I'm glad that fucker didn't see the 10th anniversary of 9/11. It's bad enough he saw the fifth.
The great news is that the Dad 2.0 Summit is in its 39th week of gestation and about to become a real, viable thing. And we on the outside have been scurrying around, boiling water and painting the nursery and contributing to its 529 account. There will be a lot of news shortly, about the date and venue and such. We're also preparing to take part in HBO's panel discussion about Doug Block's great film, The Kids Grow Up, in advance of its Father's Day broadcast.
And speaking of which: TwoBert turned six yesterday. (I know, right? Didn't he just get here?) TwoBert loves his birthday, partly because he often tells us how much he hates being the littlest member of this caravan. (And can you blame him? His birthday didn't even get top billing in this post! Such is the Plight of Second Child.) He rarely gets to "be in charge of everyone," so when it's his birthday, he milks the hell out of it. He, like all of us, deserves a little time when he feels he's on top of the world, looking down on creation.
As we were walking to school today, TwoBert epiphanied that an upside-down 6 is a 9. Therefore, logically, if he and his 9-year-old brother stood on their heads, he's be the big brother who could "decide all the important things." And that would be fine with me, because then he'd be the one who has to find a Red Sox cake in the middle of Yankeetown.