Cousins

When you suffer a tag-related injury at Grandma's house, it's good to have a cousin to comfort you.

Nighttime Preschool

Monster Jam

It's getting really real. 

Air Curtis

Daddy Daughter Dance 2016

The daddy daughter dance. 

A room full of dads

in ill-fitting suits

and neck tattoos. 

Receding hairlines,

mohawks,

rat tails

and big, gnarly beards.

(And the one guy with those shoes with the individual toes.) 

Dancing, ever so awkwardly

to Taio Cruz

and Justin Bieber (but not the good Justin Bieber)

and doing the Electric Slide,

the Macarena,

and the Chicken Dance. 

(And then there's the one really good dancer who makes the rest of us look bad worse.)

And a room filled with

the daughters who love them. 

Best night of the year. Every year. 

Bonus Hockey

The last few years, we've spent Martin Luther King Jr. Day at the Utah Grizzlies matinee game. 

Here's a quick recap of how it went down this year. 

The boys like hockey, especially Tate, so they were pretty excited to go. Paige tolerates sports, as does Traci. 

Everyone was pretty good through the first two periods. Even Traci, who said, "There's only four minutes left?! This has gone by pretty fast."

"Uh, but there's still another period," I replied. 

"But they already had halftime."

I had to share the bad news that hockey games have two halftimes. Bummer, dude. 

That's when the wheels kind of fell off. 

During the second intermission, Curtis' ears perked up when they announced they'd be dropping cash from the ceiling. 

"I hope I catch $16 so I can buy a tabletop foosball set!" he said. 

Unfortunately, they weren't dropping $16 bills. And the falling singles fluttered right past Curtis' outstretched hands.  

He did snag a coupon—for a free hot chocolate. That just made him more angry. 

By the middle of the third period, Curtis and Paige were hitting each other, Tate was asleep, and Traci was wondering when this game would ever end. 

In the last couple of minutes of the game, the visitors tied the score. 

It was still a tie at the of regulation, so the announcer shouted, "Who's ready for some BONUS HOCKEY?!"

Traci's response? "Bonus hockey? Oh, boy. Hmmph."

But bonus hockey was awesome. The Grizzlies scored the game-winning goal with 15 seconds left in overtime. All was well in the world.

Thanks, Grizzlies! We'll see you at the Presidents' Day game. 

An Evening in a Dead Man's Roller Skates

Paige got roller skates for Christmas. Tonight we decided to learn how to use 'em.

I figured I was a qualified teacher. In junior high, I spent two summers rollerblading every day with my friend Bert. (It was clearly the coolest and most efficient way to travel around the neighborhood, looking for chicks. Duh.) 

My rollerblades were long since given away. Luckily my mom just gave me a pair of roller skates that she found at a deceased neighbor's house. Sweet.

These days, skating rinks rent this little walkers with wheels to help kids to learn to skate. They cost $3.

"Dad," I really think we should get one of those walkers.

"I don't think we need one," replied the dad who had brought his daughter to $1 skate night and saved $2 by bringing his own pair of roller skates, stolen from a dead man. 

I laced up my skates and I stood up. And nearly fell right back down. It turns out, roller skating is a little trickier than I had bargained for. We rented the $3 walker. 

Paige used it for the first 30 minutes or so and then told me to hang out to it, just in case she needed it. After after hour, she was ready to ditch the walker entirely.  After an hour and a half, she was cruising along all on her own.

And then, of course, there was a surprise visit from Princess Leia and some stormtroopers. 

But that wasn't even the best part. At one point, Paige had no choice but to ditch her skates to run out the middle of the rink to dance to Watch Me Whip/Nae Nae (I didn't know she had such sweet moves). And then, just when we were getting ready to leave, the DJ announced that it was ten minutes to THE BLACKOUT. 

"What's a blackout, Dad? Can we stay?"

How I could say no? 

Ten minutes later, the lights were out, the fog machine was in full force, and the lasers were a-blazin'. The DJ was mixing Bieber with T. Swift and Demi Lovato with Tove Lo. What more could we ask for?  

On our way out, Paige said, "Dad, did you have an awesome time? Because I had an awesome time. And can you believe that I can skate now? Wasn't the blackout awesome? When can we come back? How long were we here? Two-and-a-half hours? It went by so fast. Wasn't it awesome?"

It was awesome.

Dads & Donuts

The best way to start a day. Dads & Donuts at the kids' school this morning.

Hello, Winter

This is the only good thing about winter. Already counting down the days till spring. 

A Visit from the Big Guy

We were just hanging out at the family Christmas party, when we got a visit from a very special surprise guest. Jolly old St. Nick himself!

The bigger surprise was that our kids actually acknowledged him. (Well, at least  2/3rds of them. Tate was not having any of it.)

We got a smile out of Curtis. 

And the cutest picture ever of Paige. Love this one. 

Though Tate ignored Santa, when it came to Bingo, he was all in. His impressive skills earned him a Slinky. 

Smiles all around.

A Day at Preschool

One of the cool things about my work is that we get eight hours of paid time off to volunteer wherever we'd like. That means  I get to have a little more time with my favorite four year old. 

Today I spent the morning at his preschool. 

I got to practice both my uppercase and lowercase Hs, sing some songs about alligators, and spend a lot of time sitting in a very tiny chair. 

But I wasn't just there to learn. I was there to work. 

I spent about an hour and a half cutting out laminated pages and I must say I was pretty good at it (though the cutting muscles in my right arm are a little sore tonight). 

I spent the other half of the class working at the teaching table, where I practiced colors, shapes, and letters with the kids, including this guy. 

It's fun to see him in his element, talking to his little buddies, raising his hand to answer questions, enjoying snack time. But the best part for me was seeing how proud he was to show off his dad.

I felt pretty proud, too. 

Happy Hoopster

It's well documented that Curtis hates just about everything (until he tries it, and then he just pretends that he hates it). 

For the past two years, I've tried get him to play basketball. No luck. Both years he refused me flat out. 

But this year was different. Curtis told me he was going to play Junior Jazz.

And he was actually happy about it. And I'm happy that one of his buddies from school is on the team, as well two kids from the ward. (The rest of the kids are also from the subdivision, which means we'll get to know some new folks in the neighborhood.)

Check out this smile before his first practice. 

He was even happier after practice—after the team played Elimination and he came out victorious. 

But everyone knows that the best part of playing sports is getting the uniform. And this one is reversible. Sweet. 

He had his first game on Saturday. After tip-off he promptly scored the first four points of the game. The season's off to a good start. 

Sinterklaas is Coming to Town

Somehow, seemingly overnight, my department turned into the Dutch consulate. I'm now surrounded by three people who have wooden-shoe heritage.

So of course we decided to celebrate Sinterklaas at work on Friday.

Everyone's knows that if you leave your shoes by the door, Old Saint Nicholas will fill them with treats. So Liz printed out pictures of klompen for everyone and brought in real-life carrots for Sinterklaas' trusty goat.

And sure enough, Sinterklaas found his way to the marketing department! Not only did he give us each a chocolate Santa (chocolate Sinterklaases can be a bit tougher to come by in these parts), but his helper Vanessa also delivered the traditional Dutch breakfast of bread, butter, and chocolate sprinkles! Heerlijk!

The Sutherland kids also prepared for the annual arrival of de Sint, putting out their shoes in hopes of a Sinterklaas treat. 

While good kids get treats, there's a different fate for naughty children. Sinterklaas' helper, Zwarte Piet, beats the bad ones with a stick, shoves them in his bag, and takes them on the boat back to Spain. 

It was a close call for our kids, but they were able to make it on the nice list. Phew.

Chocolate letters all around!

And now for some more education:

• Sinterklaas songs
• More Zwarte Piet
• Filmmaker: Why I Made 'Blackface'

How we watch Sunday Night Football

Tate's my old kid who will watch football with me. But it requires him to spend a lot of time with his fingers up his nose.

I'll take what I can get.

Ten Years Old

My friends all started having kids at the same time, give or take a couple of years. I remember about five years ago, when the older group's kids were hitting baptism age. Eight years old? I thought. How have your kids gotten so old? 

Then Paige turned eight. But that didn't seem so old—especially those other guys' kids were now 10. Ten. Now that's old! 

But now Paige is 10 and I'm trying to figure out where the time has gone.

I still remember the night before there was a Paige. Traci left the bed because her contractions were hurting so bad that she couldn't sleep. A few minutes later, I asked how close the contractions were.

"Still about five minutes apart," she said.

We had gone to five sessions of birthing classes. It was so gross that I pretty much kept my eyes close the entire time. But I had listened enough to know that five minutes meant it was time to go.

We packed up the bag and headed to the hospital. By the next night we were parents. A few days after that, we were headed back home with a tiny little body in a brand new car seat. I drove slower and more carefully than I ever had before. I'm not sure how Traci felt, but I was scared to death.

And, just like that, it's 10 years later.

Paige is a beautiful girl. She's smart. She loves books, just like her mom. She likes to write, just like her dad. (She even draws little comics for her brother that are funnier than I anything I've ever done.)

She loves to perform. Whether it's acting in her Up With Kids performances or singing solos in sacrament meeting, I am amazed by her fearlessness. Especially from a girl who started out so shy that she didn't let go of my leg for the first three years of her life.

And she's got a big heart. She's always worrying about her friends' feelings and making sure that everyone is included. And lately she's also been really good about entertaining a four-year-old brother who can never get enough entertainment.

A decade. Paige has been a part of our lives for a complete decade. We're pretty lucky.

Loose Teeth and a Grumpy Seven-Year-Old

Is there anything weirder than teeth falling out of your face? It's been, what, like 25 years from since my last loose tooth, but I still dream about losing teeth once every few months. 

Curtis is squarely in the loose tooth zone. And he hates it. He refuses to wiggle them, no matter how loose they get. But sometimes that doesn't mater. 

Curtis and I were having a wonderful night at the last Bees game of the season (courtesy of tickets from Drummer Danny). Tate, however, spent every minute begging me to buy him a treat. I finally capitulated, shelling out $6 for a tray of stale nachos. 

We all took turns with the nachos, until Curtis started wailing. His mouth was bleeding and he was hysterical. 

"My tooth fell out!" he sobbed.  

"And I swallowed it!" 

Luckily, a letter to the Tooth Fairy ensured that Curtis could still turn the tooth into a cash payout. 

(I was happy to see that our grumpy little guy signed the letter "love Curtis.")

After a successful visit from the Tooth Fairy, I thought we'd be done with the loose tooth drama. 

Far from it. 

Tooth Two

A few weeks later, Curtis' other front tooth started wiggling. Soon it was hanging by a thread but Curtis refused to touch it—or let anyone else touch it. 

I was working in the yard when he came out screaming. "My. Mouth. Is. Bleeding," he huffed. Despite my aversion to blood, I took him into the house to get him cleaned up. As we stood in front of the mirror, I could see the tooth was so loose that a strong wind would have blown it right out. But he wouldn't let me touch it. 

I put a wet hand towel into his mouth to stop the bleeding. "Curtis," I said, "Just touch your tooth with the towel."

"Nooooo!" 

"Curtis, your tooth is about to fall out. Just touch it really soft and it will come out."

"Nooooo!" 

"If you just bite down something it's going to fall out. I'm going to get you a piece of bread."

"Okay." 

I hand him a piece of bread. He very tentatively touches the bread to his lips.

"Whaaaaaahhhhhh!"

"What?" I asked. 

"There's. [sob, sob]. BLOOD! [sob] On the bread!"

"Okay, okay. Let's try something else. Let's go upstairs and brush your teeth. That will clean off the blood and probably make the tooth fall out."

"I. can't. do it."

"Be brave, buddy."

So we moved from one bathroom to the other. Curtis picked up his toothbrush and slowly raised it to his mouth—only to yank it way before it actually touched his tooth. After trying this several times, he finally sobbed, "I'm not brave."

At this point, we were probably 15 minutes into this ordeal and I figured it was time for Dad to make a decision. As far as I could tell, I had two choices:

1. I could let this continue to go as it was going—simply try to comfort my hysterical child and let nature take its oh-so-slow course. This would be painful for me and I would hate every second of it.
2. I could take action—yank out the tooth and be done with the thing. The only problem would be the lifelong scars I would cause to a boy who just wanted his dad to protect him but who yanked his tooth out instead. 

I settled on a hybrid approach. 

I stood behind him and gently wrapped my arm around him (pinning his arms to his chest).

"I'm just going to touch your tooth," I said.

"No, Dad. No. It hurts. IT HURTS!"

He struggled to get away from me, but I held him tight. And then I ever so slightly touched the tooth. It dropped out so quietly that Curtis didn't even notice.

"It hurts, Dad!"

"What hurts?"

"My tooth."

And that's when I let him go and theatrically presented the tooth. "You mean...THIS ONE?"

The tears stopped immediately. It was time to focus on more cash from the Tooth Fairy.

Fraternal Faceoff

Sometimes They Get Along

Something crazy happened. The boys played together. Without fighting. Or punching. Or bugging me. For like 45 straight minutes. Hooray for tiny miracles.

Little Weirdos

Our little weirdos enjoying the perfect fall weather.

Groovy Ghoulies

Halloween comes early around these parts.