Taylorsville Dayzz

Carnivals. There's a way you experience them as a kid and a way you experience them as an adult. And they are they are two very different things.

For our kids, our annual trip to Taylorsville Dayzz means sno-cones, a bunch of spinning rides, and pretty much the best day of the summer.

For Traci and I, it means spending more money than you want to, an oppressively hot June night, and way too many spinning rides. (During the never-ending spinning of the Sizzler, I couldn't help but wonder if I was getting a glimpse into purgatory.)

But there was one thing that the kids and grownups could agree on. At the end of the night, after enduring all the heat and the dizziness, we all enjoyed pretty much the best basket of fresh-cut french fries you could ask for.

Wish I was eating some more right now. Can't wait for next year's carnival!

[video link]

A Day at the Ranch

We're able to shove quite a bit of fun into eight hours at our ranch. There was slip-'n-slidin' and fourwheeler drivin' (Paige did much better this time--not like last year, when she almost ran me over) and giant kite flyin'.

What more could a bunch of kids ask for?

The Daddy Daughter Dance

I have trouble blogging about the things that I want to write about the most. When something big happens, I always think, "I should sit down and really give this the attention that it deserves." But there's just never enough time, so I usually end up skipping it entirely.

I had one of those big deal experiences last year that I never wrote about. My first daddy daughter date with Paige.

When Paige brought a flyer home from school advertising the dance, I wasn't too keen on the idea. I was pretty sure that I hadn't danced since college, I didn't even really like doing it back then. But I could tell she really wanted to go.

When we walked into the high school, all dolled up in our nice clothes, I had no idea what to expect. Would we be overdressed? Under dressed? The only ones there? The answers were no, no, and no.

The place was absolutely packed. After checking our coats (that's what you do at a classy joint like Kearns High School), Paige heard the music and literally sprinted out onto the gym floor. Before I knew it, she was dancing at warped speed in giant circles around the dance floor. I couldn't hope to keep up with her; I could barely even keep an eye on where she was going.

She was so excited to be dancing (and dancing and dancing) that it was difficult to get her to stop long enough to get our picture taken. The second the photographer snapped our photo, she was back on the floor, dancing to her favorite jam [video link]:



I don't think we could have possibly had a better night. So of course it had to become an annual tradition.

--

Paige was so excited about the dance that she made this comic strip (and even took the self portraits).

This year, my friend Brett and his two daughters came along with us. We showed up early so we could get our pictures taken before the dance started. The picture line was already out the door by the time we got there. We were still waiting when the dance began, so we let the girls going into the gym by themselves (this dance was at Paige's elementary and was much less hectic than at the high school). After a few minutes, Paige came out and said, "Daaaad, we don't need to wait for the pictures. WE NEED TO DANCE!"

So we did.

They played all of Paige's favorite tunes--Call Me Maybe, We Are Never Getting Back Together, Gangnam Style--mixed in with some Macarena and YMCA.

Luckily, Paige's dancing-in-circles was confined a smaller space this year, but she still managed to sneak away from me. I looked down just in time to see her getting whisked away by a conga line (which looked more like a really long, slow moving caterpillar of delirious little girls) that kept on going for several songs.

With all of the spinning and jumping and repeated requests to "dip me, dad," there was no time for professional photos, but I was able to get these:

Here's the great thing about the daddy/daughter dance. You would think that you'd look/feel like an idiot dancing to Justin Bieber in an elementary school cafeteria. But you don't. You're are in room filled with lots of different dads--from those who still know The Electric slide (I mean, really know it) to the scary dad with the giant face tattoos--who all just really love their daughters.

Once again, Paige had the time of her life.

And I did, too. 

Tate Taken by Carney, Parents Don't Seem to Mind

We were just standing there, minding our own parent-ly business, when the ride operator reached over the metal gates and said, "I'll take him, too." The next thing we knew, we had just handed our 14-month-old child to a complete stranger, who then put him in a moving vehicle.

And Tate loved every second of it.

This was our second visit to Taylorsville Dayzz (extra z's means extra awesome), the Fourth of July celebration in our lovely city. Paige and Curtis were very excited to go on the little carnival rides. We hadn't planned on Tate riding along as well, but when a carney takes your kid, what are you going to do, right?

Curtis was in heaven, with all of the car and motorcycle-themed merry-go-rounds. Paige bravely (and without prompting) ventured into big-kid land, going on the Tidal Wave-esque ride all by herself. She looked a little unsettled when she first got strapped in--and a little queasy when the ride took off--but she hung in there like a champ. Tate would have liked to go on more rides, but we made him spend the rest of the evening in the stroller. (Next year, buddy.)

Video Link

The (Rarely) Loving Big Brother

Generally, Curtis merely tolerates Tate. You know, it's the 'having a little brother is fine, as long as he doesn't touch my stuff' kind of relationship.

Every once in a while, however, I catch him being affectionate toward his little brother. Like when I took a break from feeding Tate to put some dishes away. I looked over and noticed that Curtis had decided to pick up where I had left off.



He's not great at actually getting the food in Tate's mouth, but it's endearing nevertheless.

"These Feet are Delicious," Starring Tate

It's hard enough to feed Tate with his hands flailing about. But when he gets his feet in the mix? Forget about it.



Can't see the video? Click here.

Paige's First Piano Recital

I don't think I used to be so gushy. But this a proud parent moment. A couple of years ago, Traci and I were worried that Paige would never stop being so incredibly shy. And now, here she is marching up to the front of the stage for a piano recital (after just three lessons) and bravely (if not a bit quietly) saying, "My name is Paige Sutherland and I will be playing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." (Traci's sister Makell joins her on the other two songs.)

We couldn't be more proud of her.

Curtis Getting Tough on the Pitch

We have reached the end of Curtis' first season of soccer. I'd say it was a success. He scored a few goals for his team (and a bunch more for the other teams), he got a lot of treats, and he got to finish every bit of running with a little bit of rolling around on the ground.

I got this footage of him during his last game. Watch as he (number 10) shows the little girl on the other team who's boss. (Poor girl. She was pretty much down for the count.)

Song of the Day: David Bazan - Won't Let Go

For much of his Pedro the Lion career, David Bazan used third person narrative for his tales of disception and infidelity. On his first solo full-length, he switched to first person and the songs were about losing his faith, becoming an alcoholic, and generally letting his wife and family down. Maybe that's why this love song to his wife feels so gripping.

I Hate Every Chimp I See, From Chimpan-A to Chimpan-Z

 


Though I have no intention of seeing the new Planet of the Apes movie, I am happy that it allows me to think about the Simpsons version of the story. (Thanks to Tim Gill for sending.) 

Man, I miss that Troy McClure.

Simpsons of the Day: Mr. Burns on Ether

Curtis Gets His First Tattoo

(Or view the video here.)

Much like with any tattoo, he regretted it just minutes later. 

Me. On TV.

I showed up at work on Monday to find out I'd be doing a little TV interview with Big Budah. I called Traci to ask if she'd record it.

The clip aired live and the second it was over I got this text from Traci:

"Our kids are freaking out seeing you on TV right now. They love it."

But it wasn't all good. Apparently Paige was very bothered that she was talking to me on the TV, but I wasn't responding. (Rude of me, I know.)

When I got home, they were both very excited to tell me that they had seen me. They were also very interested in knowing how I got on TV. I really think Paige was expecting me to explain the science of video recording and satellite transmission and such, but she had to settle for my response of "I dunno. I just was."

 
Can't see the video? Here's the link.

Tate, Lately

This kiddo has already been with us for a month. (For Traci, one long, sleepless month.) Curtis continues to ignore him (probably the best case scenario) and Paige will likely love (nay, smother) him to death.

Here he is at two weeks:

Callin' Baton Rouge

Though much of our attention has been on Tate lately, things haven't slowed down with the other two terrors. Paige just had her second dance recital. This time, things got a little bit country.

For those with 1:45 on their hands, here's a clip from the big performance.

Pick Your Poison

For 20 years, I have struggled with a question for the ages. Which "Poison" is better? Alice Cooper's ode to the evil woman, or the Bel Biv Devoe tune that gives the best advice ever put to music ("Never trust a big butt and a smile")?





On an unrelated Alice Cooper note, if you type "Alice Cooper" into the Google toolbar, it wants to auto-fill with "Alice Cooper Mormon." That takes you to Celebrities Rumored to be Mormon.

About Cooper:

His father's name was Ether Moroni Furnier. Jay Evenson, who is the Deseret News' editorial page editor and teaches an opinion writing class at BYU, interviewed him once. His family belonged to an offshoot of the LDS Church, but his father was later ordained a minister in the Baptist church.

(The site also reveals the genesis of "Steve Martin is a Mormon.")

Dancing Queen

Paige has taken Swimming Level I twice. She's yet to pass it because she refuses to put her face in the water. Nevertheless, she loves to go to class. (Mostly because the kids get to play on the slides at the end.)

Traci signed Paige up for her first dance class a few weeks ago. We thought she might like it, but even if she didn't, we figured it would be good to get her some exposure to different activities. Because she's such a worrier, I don't think Traci even told her about the class until they were in the car and on their way. Paige met the news with trepidation.

"How 'bout we go to swimming class instead."

"Oh come on," Traci said. "You'll like it."

And she did.

Paige has now completed her first five session course and already had her first dance recital.

Watching a bunch of five-year-old girls dance was certainly entertaining.

TEACHER: "When you do your roll, you all need to roll in the same direction or you'll roll over each other."

They certainly did.

I was a very proud dad when I saw Paige up on the stage doing her performance of "It's a Hard Knock Life." Unfortunately, I also realized I am not properly equipped to be a good stage dad. I need a video camera with a better zoom and I also need to get more aggressive and become that guy who brings a tripod and sets it up right in front of everyone.

Despite the poor quality, here's a little montage of the first session of dancing.

Paddlin' the school canoe? Better believe that's a paddlin'

Sometimes you just need a little Simpsons to get you through the day. I started with this classic clip of Jasper Beardly teaching Lisa's class:



Which lead me to his best line:



Which made me think about Moleman:



Which ended like everything ends. With a football to the groin:

For the Record

Let it be written that on this, the twenty-eighth day of January in the year two thousand eleven, that I, Spencer Sutherland, came to the realization that the lyrics of the 1989 dance hit "Pump Up the Jam" do not say:

"I want a place to play
Get your booty on the bus tonight."

Thanks to the lyrics scrawling along the bottom of the Just Dance screen on the Wii, I now know that the words are actually:

"I want a place to say
Get your booty on the floor tonight."

That makes so much more sense. I can remember all the way back to 1991, doing the running man to that song in James Diamant's bedroom, and thinking "get your booty on the bus tonight" was so weird.

But here we are, 20 years later, and it's all so clear. So much wasted time. 

Sometimes I Miss The OC

When I'm going through my withdrawals, there's only one thing that can cheer me up. This Simpsons parody. (Video starts after advertisement.)

Remember, Knott's Berry Farm can be a dangerous place.