Dad’s House

David Mott is on vacation this week, and Dad’s House has been taken over by some great guest bloggers. Ending the week, Honey from HoneyAndLance.com heads into the kitchen…

We go out to eat, or buy takeout, or get pre-prepared (kind of redundant, eh?) food so often these days that the idea of cooking something from scratch makes people raise their eyebrows a little. However, it really shouldn’t! Pre-made food from the grocery store typically has way too many of one (or more) of the following: calories, fat, sugar, salt. And it’s tough to say which of these things is worse, as they all contribute to serious health problems, especially if they’re all someone eats from an early age.

If you want to eat healthy yourself, as well as save your kids from a life of obesity, diabetes, and hypertension, then cooking from scratch is one of the best ways to do it. Keep your eyes peeled for reruns of an excellent TLC show called Honey, We’re Killing the Kids! if you don’t believe me.

Tons of people have already heard that involving your kids in the cooking process is one of the best ways to make sure that they eat what you make. With that in mind whatever you make has got to be easy—then you can not only involve younger children, but also so that you can concentrate on conversation to help make the experience fun for everyone.

What you may not know is that being vegan is not only an extremely healthy lifestyle, but also the single biggest contribution you can make towards saving the environment. A vegan who drives a Hummer contributes less greenhouse gas than a meat-eater who drives a hybrid.

So cooking these types of foods is a way to have conversations not only about healthy eating habits, but instilling your children with a desire to prevent animal cruelty and pollution. With that in mind, two of my favorite recipes, a main dish and a salad—both vegan and both super, super easy. My boyfriend and I have been making these together incessantly since it’s over 110 degrees in Phoenix in the summer.

Main Dish: Smoky Baked Tofu

I wish I could take the credit for this one, but it actually is a recipe that I stole from a friend. This doesn’t take much effort, but does require two days of preparation, since the tofu needs to marinade for 24 hours.

2 lbs. tofu, sliced into “steaks” about a half-inch thick
3/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup olive oil
1 tbsp. liquid smoke
1/2 tsp. onion powder
1/2 tsp. garlic powder
1/8 tsp. white pepper

Whisk together all the ingredients (except tofu) and pour into a flat bottom pan. The pan should be big enough to hold the tofu, but not so big that the liquid doesn’t cover the tofu. Submerge tofu in liquid, cover, and marinate in the fridge overnight. The next day, lay tofu out on a cookie sheet and bake at 350 for 15-20 minutes on each side. Let cool and enjoy in a wrap—it’s delicious with vegan sour cream and fresh basil.

Side Salad: Canned Summertime

This I picked up in a magazine somewhere, but have made so many adaptations over time that I consider it my own. It’s best chilled. If you make it while the oven’s preheating and put it in the fridge when the tofu goes in the oven, it should be nice by the time dinner’s ready.

3 tbsp. olive oil
3 tbsp. lime juice
3 tbsp. Tabasco sauce
1 15-ounce can black beans
1 15-ounce can garbanzo beans
1 15-ounce can sweet corn (kernels)
Fresh basil (for garnish and color)
Salt & pepper (to taste)

Whisk the olive oil, lime juice, and Tabasco sauce in a medium-sized glass mixing bowl. Drain the cans of black beans (rinse these as well), garbanzo beans, and sweet corn, and mix into the vinaigrette mixture. You can add more of the olive oil, lime juice, or Tabasco sauce to taste at this point, as well as add some salt and pepper. Be careful if you have smaller children that it’s not too spicy. Cover with tin foil and put in the fridge for about an hour. Chop the fresh basil and add it on top as a garnish when served.

These dishes are not only super easy to make, they’re very filling without making you feel heavy afterwards. Make them with your kids (or a date!) tonight.

© 2008 HoneyAndLance.com. All rights reserved. Published by DadsHouseBlog.com with permission from the author.

David Mott is on vacation this week, but he left the keys to Dad’s House with some fabulous guest bloggers. Today, Single Mom Seeking’s Rachel Sarah visits the kid’s room…

If my kid had it her way, I’d never have a boyfriend. I’d never go on another date.

My daughter was seven months old when her father walked out and I became a single mom. At that point, I thought my life was over. At age 28, I’d concluded that men were the antagonists.

Well, that didn’t last long. One year later — when my ex clearly wasn’t returning from his European adventure — I was back in the game.

Dating with a toddler was easy-peasy. But as Dad’s House knows, as you get savvier, so do your kids. Also, since it’s just the two of us, Mae and I have quite a super-glue bond.

The last time I went on a date, eight-year-old Mae wanted to know:

• “Where are you going?”
• “Who are you going with?”

I hope that she’ll be honest with me when she’s a teen, like David’s kids. So, I try to model openness.

Me: “I’m going to out for dinner with a friend.”

Mae: “Which friend?”

Me: “His name is Mark–”

Mae: “How do know him?”

You get the picture.

This year in school, Mae’s teacher led a whole course in poetry, and Mae’s favorite style was haiku. If she was going to write a haiku about our future, I think it would go like this:

Mom, don’t get married
Our family is perfect
Just the way it is

Still, I never imagined my life like this. I was sure that I’d be deep into a long-term relationship by now. I’m turning 36 this month (July). I probably won’t have any more kids. But will I ever have a real partner?

The longer I do this — single parenting — the easier it gets. While I haven’t given up finding some strapping, easygoing, here’s-a-love-note-in-your-pocket kind of man, I’m not sure if I want to add a man to our little duo. Maybe my kid is right. Maybe our little family is perfect.

Maybe I just want a man after dark.

Let’s hear from you…. Do see marriage in your future? Or, do you simply want someone after hours?

Rachel Sarah
http://www.singlemomseeking.com/blog

Author of Single Mom Seeking: Play Dates, Blind Dates, and Other Dispatches from the Dating World (2007, Seal Press/Avalon).

© 2008 SingleMomSeeking.com. All rights reserved. Published by DadsHouseBlog.com with permission from the author.

Summer’s in full swing. Friends and family are taking trips, my kids are on vacation with their mom, making me a lone wolf reminiscing back to my best family vacations ever.

1. Santa Barbara Beach Vacation - my younger brother and I rented a house in Santa Barbara last year for our two families to enjoy for a week. The backyard had two decks, a hot tub, ping-pong table, BBQ grill, and a magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean. My kids were great baby-sitters for their toddler cousins, my brother and I cooked, and his wife enjoyed 7 days of relaxation. Our dinners were based on a food pyramid featuring cocktails at the base. (Martinis tonight? Let’s have steak! Sangria? Let’s make paella.) Two days after we returned home, my sister-in-law called to ask where we’d be going in summer 2008. (I’ll blog the answer to that in a few weeks.)

2. Virginia Farm Vacation - my older brother and his wife lived on a 200 acre farm in Virginia horse country. Talk about summer camp! My kids rode horses, played with three dogs, swam and fished in a pond, drove the tractor, swung on giant rope swings, collected eggs from the chickens, picked corn, shoveled horse shit in the stable. My kids were in heaven! (Not for the horse shit, but for the collective experience.) We also stole time in Charlottesville, walking the mall, strolling UVA (Wahoo-Wa), wine tasting, visiting Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello home. My brother makes a mean mint julep, btw.

3. Maui – Hawaii is great, and Maui is extremely family friendly. We had a blast! A lot of my friends take their families to the Grand Wailea, but we prefer the condo approach. We had funning hitting beaches like Kaanapali, swimming with sea turtles, exploring the Hana coast including its waterfalls and sea caves, watching a sunset from the top of a Volcano. Couldn’t have done all that while sitting by a fancy pool. We also went to the Big Island and took ranger hikes around the volcano, with a night-time visit to the active lava flows. It was unreal! Fires everywhere, streams of lava heading to the sea. We literally stood 3 feet from hot lava. Amazing!

4. Camping in Sequoia National Park – my kids and I like to car camp. We drive into a site, pitch the tent, get out our beach chairs, and while I sit relaxing, reading a book, my kids chop wood for the fire. (Give a kid an axe and some wood, and he/she can happily chop for hours.) We didn’t just sit around, of course - we did a ton of hikes, saw the General Grant and General Sherman trees, and generally explored nature. Smores and a roaring campfire made every night good.

5. Boston – on an east coast visit where we toured from New England through Manhattan and Philly to Virginia, Boston was our favorite stop. The city is walkable, with tons of interesting sites, especially the Freedom Trail. We saw the Old North Church, ate in the Italian North End, strolled The Commons, hung out near Harvard, rode the T (the subway). A highlight, for us, was hanging out for two hours in a North End café, watching World Cup soccer. Forza azzurri!

Looking forward to my kids getting back for my vacation with them this summer!

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

• Greg Norman’s Yacht has Nothing on This
• Family Weekend
• The Kids and their Mom are skiing for Ski Week… how can I compete?

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Reddit | Stumble it | Subscribe to Dad’s House

My son and I were eating at the bar in our favorite Mexican restaurant. The owners are fine with that on slow nights - tons of people eat at that counter solo - and we’ve done it before. Without my daughter along we thought we’d keep it manly and casual. Plus, there was a TV. Always an attraction for a twelve-year-old.

A woman sat down two seats away from me, along with two young kids and a man. Damn, a family, and she was hot. Slim, cute, sexy, olive skin, nice smile. Her husband was the luckiest guy in the room. But then she ordered a beer, and the man and kids left, and I realized she was alone.

Women NEVER eat out alone in Silicon Valley.

I worried it might be awkward talking to her with my son there, but what choice did I have? Chances like this come along once every couple of years (so it seems.) I absolutely had to chat this woman up. Besides, kids are sort of chick magnets.

I asked her if she’d eaten at the restaurant before. A fair question, since we eat there a lot and I didn’t recognize her. Plus, she hadn’t ordered a margarita. Everyone orders a margarita here. This restaurant makes the best ones in town. (La Llorona is my fave.)

She was friendly, and we started to chat. Turns out she was in town visiting from Colorado on business. Her smile was killing me, and I couldn’t see if she had a ring or not. I introduced my son, and he seemed a tad embarrassed, then went back to watching the ballgame on TV.

I felt conflicted – I should bond father/son style. But WTF. If there was a chance with this woman, I had to take it.

A group of guys came into the bar and one totally started hitting on her. She gave him the cold shoulder and changed seats to be right next to me. I was in heaven! (My son smiled. He knew I was pleased.)

We talked while we ate. She explained the meaning of my margarita’s name (La Llorona – the crying woman. Which I knew from reading Women Who Run With the Wolves, but I was impressed with her latina knowledge.)

My son was fairly quiet, but when I brought him into the conversation by having him brag about playing lacrosse or trumpet, he perked up. He’s extremely social, and has no problem talking to adults or girls. He did great.

I finally saw a flash of bling on her finger. Damn! Talk about mood killer, I know I should have looked beforehand. But she had her hand in her lap the whole time, and scoping out a ring would have been so obvious. Plus, sometimes women wear rings when they aren’t married, to ward off men. (Just as sometimes men don’t wear rings when they should.)

I’m pretty direct, so I asked if there’s a lucky guy in her life. Yep, she’s married. But she said she was totally flattered that I hit on her. She ordered a margarita to match mine (La Llorona!), and was bummed when my son and I needed to leave before her drink was done. We exchanged biz cards because she has a girlfriend (in Colorado) to set me up with.

As soon as we left, I talked to my son about what went down. I apologized for chatting so much with someone else, but explained there aren’t that many single women in Silicon Valley, at least not ones who put themselves out there. (I’m convinced they all hide out in the Googleplex.) I explained that when a beautiful woman sits down next to you, you don’t hesitate, you do whatever it takes to start up a conversation. He understood. He got it.

He’s not shy, he’ll be fine with the ladies when it’s time. But I feel it was good for him to watch me interact with this woman. My parents are still married, so I never got to see my old man in action. My son saw me stick my neck out with a woman, strike out, and still hold my head high.

In other words, he saw what it’s like to be a man.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

• Salsa Dancing - Hot Latin Nights
• Is the Dating Pool Really That Small?
• How to Grill Asparagus (pick-up potential here)
  
• Birds, Bees, and Axe Body Spray
• How to Start Dating a Single Dad

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Furl | Reddit | Stumble it | Yahoo My Web 2

I live hours from any family, so when my kids are with me it’s just me and them. (This is in sharp contrast to their mom who has parents, siblings, cousins, uncles, and aunts just minutes away.) Any time I get with my extended family is a treat, and Father’s Day weekend was no exception.

My kids and I drove from the Bay Area to my parents’ house on the Central Coast Friday, joining my younger brother and his wife and two-year-old twins who came up from LA. There was no agenda, which was perfect.

Some highlights:

• Big breakfast Saturday morning cooked by Grandma and Grandpa
• With cousins napping, my kids and I strolled around town, hitting surf shops, eating pizza, sipping cappuccino
• Everyone joined us at the plaza fountain for some toddler water play
• Frozen yogurt snack by the creek
• Back at Grandma’s we played Tantrix (a geometric strategy game. Not to be confused with Tantric sex)
• Grandpa BBQ’d while my brother and I made Sangria
• Carrot cake dessert is one of Grandma’s specialties

After dinner, when the two-year-olds were heading to bed, I dozed off on the couch. It was just a nap! When I woke refreshed, my kids and I stayed up till midnight watching Spy Kids and a Euro 2008 soccer game (we can watch any two teams play), all while playing more board games.

Father’s Day had all the necessities:

• Coffee
• Donuts
• Barnyard petting zoo
• Beach
• Another nap for me

No computers. No email. No blogs. No stress.

Just family.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Furl | Reddit | Stumble it | Yahoo My Web 2

When my daughter graduated 6th grade, she and her classmates were treated to a day in the park with classic summer camp games – balloon toss, three legged race, pass an orange down the line using just your neck and chin. With 70 kids attending, it took a crew of parents to put the event on. I followed my caveman instinct to fire and helped another dad man the grill.

I was in heaven.

It was one of those huge barbecue pits built out of brick and permanently cemented into a corner of the park reserved for groups. It had a grill suspended by chains, raised and lowered by a big iron wheel, big enough to cook a side of beef. Or 200 hot dogs.

“Okay, Dads,” the mom in charge said. “Ten minutes till lunch. Kids are hungry. Time to cook.”

No problem, the coals were ready. The other dad and I tore open Costco-sized packs of hot dogs and dumped wieners twelve at a time onto the grill. With a slew of hungry pre-teens to feed, we knew the importance of speed. In no time flat, we had all the hot dogs cooking.

We sat back on our heels, turning dogs with long forks. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones admiring our work. “You guys are experts!” Mom in charge said. Yes, we were. Heck, I wondered why we’d stuck to such a simple meal. We could have gourmeted things up with something like grilled asparagus.

In ten minutes, the first dogs were nearly ready, and kids were lining up.

“Is lunch ready yet?” a boy at the front of the line asked.
“Actually, it is,” I said. I pulled the first hot dog off and nestled it in a bun. Cooked to perfection. The boy was delighted.

The next few dogs came off looking the same. But as we pulled hot dogs off one-by-one, they started looking overcooked. We suddenly realized if one dog was done, all 200 were done. After all, we’d loaded the grill with such zeal, we practically started them all at once. We cranked the wheel to get the grill up from the flames, but it wasn’t enough. These dogs were cooked.

The other dad and I raced to get hot dogs off the grill. We didn’t have a big pan to them in, just bags of buns, a stack of paper plates, and a line of hungry kids. We hustled dogs into buns as fast as we could.

“Hey, mine’s black!” a kid said.
“That means it’s perfect!” I growled back.

Mom in charge saw our plight and came over to help. While I slung hot dogs for kids, she and the other dad piled charred meat onto plates. Smiling graduates frowned.

“I guess we should have spaced out the cooking,” I said.
“Ya think?” mom in charge said.

Lesson learned. In fact, this year when my son has his sixth-grade graduation party, I’ll be first in line to man the grill. I’ll bring the wisdom that hot dogs need to be cooked at a manageable pace. Only one thing, Mom in charge learned a lesson, too.

This year’s event will be catered.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us  |   Digg it  |   Furl  |   Reddit  |   Stumble it  |   Yahoo My Web 2

Two weeks ago I checked the online homework message board for my son’s sixth grade class and saw a curious thing – plans for a field trip the next day to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. This was news to me.

Granted, my son lives in two homes and sometimes Friday Folder messages end up at the other house and get lost in a mass of paperwork. (Sort of like the Nordstrom bags stuffed full of unopened mail in Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections. Too much information to sift through can be overwhelming.)

But a field trip the next day that I knew nothing about was a problem. My son was with me that night and I was responsible for getting him onto the field trip bus at the right time, with the proper mix of sweatshirts, snacks, notebooks, spending money, lunch.

I emailed the teacher for information.

Didn’t you read my emails? she wrote back. I’ve sent several these past few weeks.

I hadn’t seen a thing. She poked around her account and suddenly realized I wasn’t on her email list. Worse, I hadn’t been on it all year!

Apparently, she’d been sending weekly updates to “all” the class parents keeping them abreast of study topics, test dates, homework projects, etc. My ex-wife got all the emails, but since the email list wasn’t public, she had no idea that I wasn’t receiving them. (She might have checked with me early on in the year to make sure I was receiving emails, but why would she think it’s a problem?)

The teacher apologized saying it was a mistake on her part. She knew we lived in two houses, but she didn’t think to add two emails to her list. After all, communication with pretty much every other family went to the mom. (The local doctor’s office does the same thing. Wouldn’t both parents be concerned about their children’s health? Then again, Dad Gone Mad and his readers would probably be thrilled to not have to deal.)

Sigh.

For the record, my son comes to my house most weekdays after school to do his homework, regardless of whether he’ll be at my house or his mom’s that night. I work from home, so this is a good deal for all parties. His mom can focus on her job and know our son is safe. My son gets homework help from me when he needs it. And I get to see my kid a lot.

To find out now that the school has kept me out of the loop all year is frustrating. It’s also not surprising. It’s been a constant battle for the ten years we’ve been part of this school district. Test scores and important notices are usually sent to only one house, usually the mom’s. I’ve talked to teachers, principals, and district administrators including the assistant superintendent to get the problem fixed. I even offered to give one teacher a pile of stamped envelopes addressed to me so she could send me any notes she sent home. (She said that would be more work for her, and refused to do it.)

We aren’t the first two-home family the school has ever dealt with, but apparently I’m the first dad to complain. It sucks to try to be deeply involved with your kids, only to be discriminated against for being a man.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Furl | Reddit | Stumble it | Yahoo My Web 2

Firing up the grill with family and friends this long weekend? Don’t forget the veggies. Grilled asparagus tastes great and takes only minutes to cook. It’s one of my kids’ favorite vegetables (second only to Italian style carrots). Here’s our recipe:

Rinse a bunch of asparagus in water
Snap the stalks and discard the bottom (Tip: by snapping with your hands rather than cutting with a knife, you’ll naturally locate the very spot that separates the good part from the bad)
Marinade the asparagus in olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper

Let these sit while you grill your main course – tri-tip, chicken skewers, whatever…

Seven minutes before you’re ready to eat –
Grill the asparagus for about 3 minutes, then flip and cook 3 minutes more
Drizzle shaved parmesan cheese on the asparagus and melt

That’s it!

A funny anecdote – a few summers ago my kids and I toured the east coast, hitting Boston, Providence, Manhattan, Philly, and parts of Virginia. While in Newport, Rhode Island, we dined one night at the Red Parrot, a three-story tall restaurant that was packed (so we knew it was good).

They seated us on the third floor along with a bachelorette party, and Bob Marley reggae setting a festive mood. Just me, my kids, and twenty women – I was in heaven. I sipped a classic Gin Martini and basked in the view. (My back was to the water and I was facing the bachelorettes, and I must say the view was quite spectacular.)

Meanwhile, my son was wearing Heelys, those shoes with wheels in the heels. Our server was busy, and my son was bored, so he heelied around an empty part of the floor. He was a hit with the hottie bachelorettes (and it wasn’t his Axe body spray.) Note to self: no need to save up for a red Ferrari; red Heelys will do just fine. I was buzzed from my martini and in a great mood from all the sexy feminine energy in the room. Plus, I was on vacation with my kids – what’s not to like?

When the waitress took our order I asked what vegetable they were serving.
“Asparagus,” she said.
“Oh, is it grilled asparagus?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “But I can ask the chef if he can grill it.”
“Okay, but it’s got to have shaved parmesan cheese melted on top,” I said.
The waitress gave me one of those O-kaaaay looks, then headed to the kitchen.

I sipped my martini, my daughter watched the sunset, my son heelied around the room, the bachelorettes chatted, frequently laughing with heads thrown back, necks exposed, body language screaming they needed a man. (At least that’s my male gin-induced interpretation of their good time.) The whole of my existence felt sublime.

The waitress came back.

“The chef said he can grill the asparagus, no problem,” she said. “But the parmesan cheese is grated, not shaved.”
Say what?! That threw me for a loop. My brain was foggy from gin, my mind drunk from bachelorettes, and I scowled as I struggled to reconcile her words. Would grated cheese work okay?
My daughter saw I was stumped and came to the rescue, saying, “Grated would be fine.”

Thank God for girls.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

• Classic Gin Martini Recipe
  
• Pasta With Peas Recipe
• Bruschetta Recipe
  
• How to Cook the Best Grilled Salmon
• How To Pick-Up a Woman in Front of Your Son

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Reddit | Stumble it | Subscribe to Dad’s House

I woke up this morning tired, headachy, lacking any spark. Like having a bad hangover, except I didn’t drink. How did this weekend kick my ass so completely? I just sat around (in shorts, mind you, not Dockers). My kids did all the work.

Friday night was a talent show at my son’s elementary school. Cloggers, violinists, singers, a jazz band – there were some talented kids! (Also some not-so-talented. Parents – please have the courage, courtesy, and common sense to tell your child when their “dance” act might best be done in pajamas with friends at a sleepover behind closed doors.) The show went late, but no matter, there was plenty of pizza and cupcakes.

Saturday was a lacrosse game in 95 degree heat. Talk about hot! The boys were dieing, running around in pads and helmets. I watched from a beach chair. (The sideline highlight of the game was a gravelly-voiced parent from the other team who constantly shouted, let’s go red! - through a megaphone! I cracked up every time. I want a megaphone, too!) Thank goodness for the Good Humor man in his ice cream truck. Bomb pops are to die for.

We raced from lacrosse to my daughter’s track meet an hour away. No time for food. I grabbed a coffee (in 95 degree heat!) and a snack bag of munchies. Doritos, sun chips, cheetos, pretzels – all in one bag. Talk about genius! I was in snack heaven. The track meet ended late, and I might have cooked pasta and peas, but I was tired. So I got take-out Chinese.

I snuck in a bike ride Sunday before my son’s team party at a local pizza/burger joint. Okay, so I had a beer, a 22 oz. Stella Artois. I deserved that after a kid-focused weekend like this. Especially when you factor in that I didn’t have custody. My kids were with their mom. I was just showing up to events, lending my support.

And I have the hungover-feeling to prove it.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us  |   Digg it  |   Furl  |   Reddit  |   Stumble it  |   Yahoo My Web 2

My son and his classmates are getting ready to compete in a basketball tournament against some area schools. He and his friends have been practicing a few days a week. There’s an adult coaching them, but it’s pretty informal. They work on dribbling and shooting and some basic pick-n-roll plays before heading off to other activities like soccer and lacrosse. It’s less about winning and more about having fun.

So when one of the boys left practice early last week, it was no big deal. His coach and teammates figured he had homework or piano lessons to get to. The thing is, while this particular boy is the tallest on the team - he can practically dunk - he doesn’t work at his game. He just stands there and waits for the ball to come to him.

My son and his friends aren’t trying to win the NCAA Tournament bracket, it’s a single day event with other elementary schools. But they’d like to be competitive, it makes the games more fun. And their best shot at winning is for this tall boy to spend a little energy and actually try.

(Would a flattering news article stroke his ego and get him going? We’re not talking a major daily. If Miley Cyrus can get in Vanity Fair, this boy could make the school announcement bulletin, no problem.)

Forty-five minutes after the boy left practice he returned, and he wasn’t empty handed. He was carrying an ice cream sundae. Whip cream, sprinkles, cherry on top. WTF! (No, he wasn’t the Starbucks drinking four-square player from my Good Morning America post.)

He sat down and ate his dessert and watched his teammates practice. When he finished, he got up and came onto the court. His pants (yes, pants – no basketball shorts for this boy) and shoes were stained with ice cream.

Guess what? He got after that ball, dominated the lanes, grabbed every rebound, took good shots, made some passes, and actually ran up and down the court.

Must have been the ice cream shoes. Now if we can just sneak a quart of Ben and Jerrys ice cream into the tournament gym…

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Furl | Reddit | Stumble it | Yahoo My Web 2