Does your octa-nose slobber?

Kids crack me up.

They have a knack for not only creating entirely different words but also combining different meanings in the same sentence -- just for kicks -- and then collapsing into giggles. A language's vocabulary is the playground of their imagination.

While taking my 7-year-old daughter, Livy, and her nearly 6-year-old friend Ethan and his 3.5-year-old sister, Tori, to TCBY for some yogurt ice cream, the kids in the backseat began interrogating me (with smirks on their faces).

"If your brain freezes when you eat ice cream, dad, can you think?" Livy asks. Before I can answer with some witticism, she quickly answers for me: "You can't think anyway! Ha Ha Ha!" Of course, all of the kids collapsed into laughter as I gave them a menacing look with raised eyebrow in the rear-view mirror, which I train upon the kids to watch them in amusement whenever we go anywhere.

Ethan then asked, "Uncle Dave, does your octa-nose slobber?" At this, I collapsed into laughter right along with the kids. The image was too ridiculous and a great non-sequitur. After things quieted somewhat I shouted, "Are you saying that I have eight noses and that those noses SLOBBER, Ethan? Noses can't SLOBBER!"

"YES THEY CAN!" he and Livy shouted quickly, before again squirming in loud giggles.

Livy and Ethan have created their own monster language, too, often saying something to me (or about me) and pretending to understand each other. They also translate road signs into monster language, so I will not remain an ignorant adult for the rest of my life. If I ask why the monster word for "Stop" has changed overnight, they simply inform me that IT CHANGED OVERNIGHT. Well, of course it did, silly me.

I regularly trade "insults" with Livy and Ethan. The "insults" are their way of practicing generalities, testing the mettle of others, being goofy, playing with the language, connecting with another person. Too many adults, unfortunately, take these playful digs by kids too seriously and don't give back as good as they get.

Among the many insults Livy has for me is her pronouncement that I am fat (I'm thin and muscular). She knows that I know that I'm not fat, so it's a playful jibe. I pronounce quickly that she, instead, is the fat one (she's built exactly like me), and she quickly states, "I'm not fat, you're fat!"

The point to this fatness is not fat, of course; it's a kid's way of saying, "Let's have fun." Since Livy knows that I'm not fat and that I love my body, she knows she might get a round of silliness going by stating the untrue, like when they say that the wind isn't blowing the leaves; the leaves are blowing the wind. They find great folly and joy in the opposite, and it helps solidify the real by toying with it.

It's also a kid's way of testing our mettle. Kids, as you know, do this all the time. How will mommy or daddy or Uncle Bill or Aunt Sally or their friends react? These kinds of regular teasings build up their judgment muscles as they watch how a parent (or any other person) regularly responds to "interrogation." They don't mean it meanly. It's almost instinctive in young kids to constantly test the confidence and will power of those who are close to them.

And you don't have to be witty to get their sympathy. Some of the biggest laughs I've seen in kids is when I simply am stymied by their goofiness and can't think of a thing to say. They love rendering us adults speechless. It's a conquest. As long as you take it well, they love you the more for it. Livy loves it when I get that "I don't know WHAT to say to THAT" look on my face or when I shake my head and say, "That's too goofy for MY universe."

Some parents rebel against this "assault." I find it fascinating and amusing. After all, the ball's in my court, isn't it? I can answer however I feel, and I can have as little or as much fun with it as I want.

I respond according to my mood, usually. Sometimes I'll say that I'll respond to that horrible lie (the "fat" one) after I finish a business email (I have raised eyebrow aimed in her direction, and she knows this means I want to have fun but can't right now). Sometimes I'll say, "Poor Livy girl, I guess it's time we take you to the eye doctor to get some REALLY THICK glasses made for you." "No way, I don't need glasses -- YOU do!" she proclaims, giggling at the thought of big thick glasses.

Sometimes I'll answer the "fat" accusation by stating, "Livy, everyone knows I'm built like Mr. Incredible." She laughs heartily and says, "Mr. Incredible was FAT!" She thinks for a minute that she's "won." Then I say with a wry look, "I'm talking about AFTER he was fat and had all those huge muscles. Look at my muscles. Aren't I as big as Mr. Incredible?!" (flexing pose)

"No!!!!!" she says, and we both collapse into giggles.

One-hour conversation with my 7-year-old about religion

My Livy girl just can't seem to wrap her mind around the fact that adults (and children) could believe in make-believe. In this case, religion.

One of her little buddies likes to go to church with his mama, and each time, Livy looks at me and raises her eyebrows, as if to say, "Well, OK, but that's just silly."

On Sunday, it happened again, and Livy again asked me, "Why does he get so excited about going to church?" I explained that at church, they have fun stuff for young kids to do, so it's not really as much about the god thing and make-believe mysticism yet.

This led to a long talk with many questions about religion. We discussed morality, personal responsibility, facts, more facts, rationality, free will, independent thinking (even with parents and other adults), handling irrational people, the history of mysticism (going back 30,000 years), the abdication of thought by mystics (religious people), whether religious people think their alleged god would have a penis or vagina or whatever (we laughed at this part very much), and much more.

We ended like we usually do with such conversations, discussing the ramifications of irrationality on rational people, especially politically, with mystics voting for political domination of themselves and the rest of us. Livy now quite comfortably says things like, "People who go to church want the government to steal from us and give that money to other people because church people like for somebody to be in charge of themselves."

How refreshing it is to have a talk with an objective, clear conscience! How fascinating it is to be engaged with a young mind traveling down complex intellectual paths willfully and freely, integrating concepts, forming conclusions easily once facts are digested thoroughly, asking poignant and direct questions and dissecting the answers to ensure that the answers are themselves rational.

If this coming generation is filled with hundreds of thousands of such children as my Livy, as I think it will be, then I have a warning for the mystics and the government:

Your superstition and dominance will be laughed at and eventually exterminated.

And my Livy will have more money in her bank account to maybe buy me a new car. Ha!

Principles first -- Unschooling second

The headline on this blog post isn't meant to diminish the importance of unschooling. It's meant to establish the fact that I have to have principles in place first before I can determine if unschooling is the proper method for raising my child, Livy. I determined before her birth that unschooling was, indeed, the proper way to raise her.

In working out my principles in the early 1990s, I determined the propriety of Objectivism, the philosophy of Ayn Rand that states four primary things: 1) reality is real and understandable to humans; 2) humans have free will and rational brains that can figure out reality by forming facts; 3) because humans can make mistakes while working with reality, they need a code of ethics (honesty, independence, integrity, etc.) to help guide their minds; 4) because humans are rational and work by a code of ethics, they are the only ones who know how to make themselves happy and are, therefore, entitled to be left alone by other humans and by governments.

Because of the above four true generalizations about humans and reality, I determined that the best way to raise my child was to honor her right to her own life, to not get in the way of her extraordinary fact-finding mission and personal trail to happiness.

I also expect her to respect my rights and others' rights as I respect hers. This means that there are rules such as "you've got to clean up after yourself," "noise levels are limited in a room where some don't want noise," "fix your own food, if I don't want to fix it," "always be honest with me," "do not take others' stuff or violate their right to be left alone," "don't expect others to share or do something for you simply because you wish it," etc. We have been talking with each other about these rules for years now, with me giving explanations many times on why I think they are objective rules of conduct for not only kids, but also for adults.

I don't see unschooling as "unparenting." An objective parent has much to teach and much help to give about the facts of reality and what is right. I see that as my role, with my longterm plans of helping create an individual who will be not only my bloodline writ large in her own way, but be among my best and dearest of friends for life.

That is what she has turned out to be so far, an amazingly independent, thoughtful, caring, insightful individual who knows that in order to be free to run her own life, she must recognize the same for others and their lives.

Livy is a joy.

Daughter, not even 7 yet, learns about inflation and more

Livy and I had a full hour of conversation yesterday afternoon on our porch about government and money that started with her asking for the Xbox game "Halo 3" (she's an avid and terrific player of Xbox's "Gears of War").

I told her we might not be able to buy Halo because money was a bit tight. She understands this viscerally because two years ago, we lived in a bigger home, had nicer things and never really had to talk about money being tight.

She asked why money was tight. I said the government stole more than a quarter million dollars from me by regulating and taxing my previous real estate business out of business, as well as interfering with the U.S. economy and ruining it, and by printing too many dollars.

"Printing too many dollars?!" she exclaimed and then paused. "The government can print money? Does it make money?"

Yes, I said, whenever it wants to print more money to give to people besides us, it just makes its printers work longer and make more money. This causes inflation. I told her that milk, which now costs about $3.5 a gallon, used to cost just 10 cents a gallon, and I gave other examples.

She was aghast. "They can't do that, daddy! They can't just print money when they want it!"

I agreed, of course. But what astounded me was how many questions she voluntarily asked and how she drew her own conclusions from simply hearing facts from me. She said such things as, "We are the boss of ourselves; the government can't tell us what to do."

Along the way, she asked "Who is government?" "What is government?" "Why are people so stupid and choose people (politicians) to take our money?" etc.

Several times, she said, "I wish government would crash in a plane." I said, "Me, too, but then another government just like it would come along because people want it."

This completely exasperated her. "Why are adults so stupid?"

Ha, that was question of the hour and took some explaining. I told her that I and my friends that she knows aren't stupid. People like her mom, Kelly, and Julie and Jenn and Brendan and Aquinas and Aaron and many others. Then I explained about the god people and others like them and how it starts with bad parenting and that schooling was connected as well, and that it was caused by not being brave enough to look at facts and live in the real world and think about stuff and put it all together and then feel good about yourself because you do all those things.

I goofed up near the end and called the vast majority of people dumb. She corrected me. "No, daddy, they're stupid."

Touchez, my darling.

"I am all the government, daddy"

Livy and I have had many conversations about the theft that government enjoys calling "taxation," as well as the proper role of government and how modern America is unlike the free America of 150 years ago -- in terms of laissez-faire, not slavery.

So, with a wink in her eye, she announced yesterday morning with arms sweeping the sky "I am all the government, daddy, and you are my SLAVE!" Giggles.

She meant by "slave" that I was to be a slave to her taxations and whims. I was to do exactly as she said and give her money upon demand. More giggles, then totally serious look in her face (with wry eyes), "No, I'm serious. I'm all the government, really!"

I reminded her that she already got a lot of my money, but she promptly answered that that wasn't nearly enough. I said I might have to move to another country, but she reminded me that "all the government" means "ALL the government."

Alas, I put out my hands and said, "Please put the handcuffs on since I'm to be a slave."

More giggles on both sides.

I've gone around the sun 50 times

Tomorrow is my 50th birthday, which means I've woken up and met a new day 18,250 times -- a mind-boggling number, really. Where do all those days go? How many thousands of first sips of coffee have I had?  How many good books have I read? How many good kisses have I given and received? How many friends have I met, kept and lost?

As a very young child, I remember my gramma's 50th birthday, for some reason. She was old! Yet, now I look at pictures of her when she was 50, and she seems, well, like me, or perhaps a little older since she wasn't in as good a shape.

Movement through life seems to start with measurements in minutes, then hours, then days. As we get older and more forward-planning, they seem to move in weeks, months and years. Gramma would say that she still felt like she was 20 when she was 50. She reminisced about being 20 in the late 1930s, The Depression. As a young child, I couldn't believe or understand that a person who was old felt like she was young.

I understand now. I'm in good health, very good health. My body still responds and feels like it is 20, for the most part, except that it takes a bit longer for soreness to go away and I get a bit stiff if I miss a couple of workouts and stretches. Other than that, I'm stronger than I was 30 years ago, smarter, just as speedy, better organized.

All of my close friends are younger than me, except for my friend Dan, who is five years older. I even have some close friends who are 27, another friend who is 31, another who is 36, another who is 38. People my age seem OLD. They walk slower, their brains are muddled, their midsections are bulbous, they lose their breath easily, they can't wait to retire (I'll never do it). They don't keep up with the latest music, movies, gadgets. They seem to live largely in yesteryear or pine for the easy chair in a decade or so.

It's not just my body that's 20; it's my enthusiasm. I can't wait for today, for tomorrow, for the newest gadget, for a new friend, for a fresh conversation, for that first sip of coffee in the morning, for my next workout, for the next admiring look in the mirror at a body that's the result of decades of commitment, for the next race down the street with my lovely daughter or the next water fight with her and her friends.

The one way that 50 is different from 20 in a major way is my perspective about life, about myself. I'm wiser but not a wiseacre. I don't go around anymore thinking I'm better; I just think I'm good. Life is about living, not comparison. Anxiety has evaporated with the cleansing effect of objectivity, and emotions run pleasantly wild with the knowledge that they are good thing, a very good thing. I'm more fun; people are more fun for me. Life is fun.

When I wake up tomorrow morning, I will have lived 18,250 days. It will the beginning of the next 18,250. I'll take my first sip of coffee and kiss my daughter, Livy.

And perhaps I'll nod at the sun while reading my morning paper and say, "You ready for another 50 times around?"

"I have an uncle who's an avocado"

While Livy was watching iCarly on TV, one of her favorite shows, one of the characters was making fun of another character and said, "Yeah, you have an uncle who's in al Qaeda."

Livy laughed and turned to her two friends Ethan and Tory and repeated what she heard, "Yeah, you have an uncle who's an avocado."

They all three laughed hilariously.

Ha!

My daughter, the revolutionary "nutcase"

My ex-wife Kelly sent me THIS LINK, in which our daughter, Livy, and two of her friends (and Kelly) were shown in a picture as an example of the "nutcases" in the world espousing Ayn Rand's ideas and not giving a shit about the "downtrodden."

When you go to the link, scroll down to the 8th picture. Livy is holding the pink sign that reads "Ayn Rand Was Right," and her two friends Morgan and Ryan are to her left. Kelly is standing at right.

I must say that I'm now jealous that my lovely daughter has exploded upon the scene of the revolution as an example of evil BEFORE I did.

God, I'm a proud father!!

"You can't marry your SISTER!"

My daughter, Livy, and her best friend, Ethan, had a conversation in her play room that I overheard from the living room yesterday. Ethan has a little sister name Tory. Here's the conversation:

Livy: "Hey, Ethan, are you going to marry somebody when you get older?"

Ethan: "Yeah."

Livy: "Who are you going to marry?"

Ethan: "I don't know."

Livy: "Well, who are you going to marry?"

Ethan: "I'm going to marry Tory."

Livy: "You can't marry your SISTER! It's against the law. The government won't let you marry your sister."

Ethan: "Oh."

Livy: "So who are you going to marry?"

Ethan: "I don't know."

Livy: "Well, who are you going to marry?!"

Ethan: "I'm going to marry my mama."

Livy: "Yeah, it's OK to marry your mama. It's not against the law."