Bob the Builder vs Mr Roger's Neighborhood

So I now know what's wrong with English society: English children's TV. A couple weeks ago we went on vacation to Menorca. Before we went I bought a Bob the Builder DVD - just in case.

So we ended up popping it in a few times and I had the pleasure of watching several episodes. There was consistent theme throughout all of them - "DON'T HURRY. TAKE YOUR TIME." No wonder everything takes twice as long in this country as it does in the US.

As I reflect upon the US children's TV of my youth, I distinctly remember Mr Rogers repeatedly checking his watch to see that the Neighborhood Trolly would show up on time. Whenever Mr McFeeley, the mailman would show up, he would announce his arrival with shouts of "Speedy delivery! Speedy delivery!". Rain, sleet, hail or snow, we knew nothing would stop that Mr McFeeley.

This is in sharp contrast to the lessons taught on Bob the Builder. In the world of English children's TV, anytime Muck or Scoop or any of the other characters shows a little initiative by rushing or hurrying to be somewhere on time, disaster strikes. They drop a load of lumber or break a giant pane of glass. Wendy scolds youthful characters if they should ever decide to have a race to see who can get a task done the fastest. The lesson is clear. No matter what happens, DO NOT RUSH!

Now I understand why service providers here are pretty blasé in letting you know that they simply will not hurry to help you. This has clearly been ingrained in them since childhood.

I have sadly resigned myself to the fact that if we stay here too long, my kids will grow up slow. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.

FHNO GROWS

I had a bunch of firsts this weekend with FHNO. It was the first time I saw him scooch around. He is trying to crawl but is not quite there yet. He is doing a lot of rocking around on all fours and a good job of pulling himself up to a standing position (which I saw him do in the bath tub). I saw him eat his first pea. And he now enjoys blowing on the tin whistle. His smile is contagious and I love to set him in my lap so we can look at each other and get the giggles.

Also, we found out today that Señor Frog and FHNO are going to have... a little brother! More boy in the house! Whoopee!

ENOUGH ALREADY WITH THE CHARM, PLEASE

RANT WARNING

So Peaches' mom is here for a few weeks and was kind enough to keep the boys overnight while Peaches and I headed off to a London hotel for a night of...sleep. It was delightful.

We did however, have the opportunity once again to experience that noteworthy English habit of offering civility in the place of competence. We ordered a romantic comedy on the pay-per-view system. It had an annoying tendency to skip ahead like a scratched DVD. After the third time we called down and the hotel's engineer appeared at our door to handle the situation.

He smiled. He apologized multiple times. He chatted with us about the pay-per-view system, the top ten hotel companies, Formula 1 racing, the investors that own the hotel, the artwork on the wall, the renovation program at the property, server sizes, the hotel's competitive advantages and disadvantages, how to reboot the system, work ethos, and more. He smiled the whole time and he apologized again and again. But what he did not do was fix the problem. This went on for about half-an-hour. I kept glancing at the clock thinking about how this was eating into precious bed time - which was the only thing I wanted to do if we were not going to be watching a movie.

I will not name the hotel, because this was almost the only drawback to an otherwise excellent experience and the positives outweighed the negatives. The food was good, the service was good, the room was ginormous and the interior was outstanding.

But why do the English insist on chatting instead of fixing? I know a purchasing officer responsible for arranging the tech cabling for a US Customs Agency office at an English port. He said he once phoned an IT consultancy to ask them if they could do the job. The answer to his question should have been a simple "No." But the guy delivering the message was so charming and polite that it took an hour of explanative and apologetic discourse to get off the phone. Not only did the purchasing officer have to keep shopping for the service, but he had lost a precious hour and was not an inch closer to getting his job done.

The village mentality is alive and well in England. I suppose I should be grateful. We are net beneficiaries of this quaint mentality. Even as foreigners here for only a few years, our local high-street chemist, florist, green grocer and pet shop proprietor know us, give us store credit and go out of their way to special order items for us, etc.

So who am I to complain?

But boy do I wish British Telecom, British Gas, and the high-speed internet provider and other big English companies could stop being so charming and polite and start delivering their services efficiently and hassle-free.

WHAT HAPPENED?!?!?

How could this have happened to me? I’m hooked. It all started at the British Airways lounge at Heathrow about six months ago. I picked up a plate and put what I thought were pretzels on it. They were not. They were Twiglets. At first bite I almost spat it out.

But over the course of the past months, whenever I have been in the lounge I seem to have reached for a few Twiglets. Then more.

Then, about a month ago, I read the packet. MARMITE!!! What!?!? I am American. I do peanut butter. I don’t do Marmite. I am not Australian or English or whatever you have to be to like Marmite. This was absurd. Growing up, my only exposure to anything of the sort was when Land Down Under by Men at Work made it towards the top of the US pop charts. There was some line about “vegemite sandwich”.

So yesterday morning at the caf, I ordered a bacon roll but the guy next to me ordered white toast with butter and marmite. Today I did the same, and I’m hooked. It doesn’t help that I have an addictive personality. I will be eating this stuff by the bucket loads.

JELLY CAT

So one of the funny little things about Thad is that when you ask him to tell you the name of one of his stuffed animals, he reaches for the tag and looks as if he's reading it before showing the tag to you to read. He kind of shrugs and looks blankly at you like "I dunno. Read it." You get the feeling that maybe you've asked a stupid question. Gund, Jelly Cat, London Zoo, Pedigree Pals...

ENGLISH MADNESS AND WIMBLEDON

An Englishman has not won Wimbledon since 1933. But once again, the English don't know that.

GLORIOUS DAY

Having been busy with fatherhood, career and personal growth, I have not been able to post much. Time flies. I cannot believe that Floppy-Headed Night Owl (FHNO) is already 7 months old. He is so much fun now. The first few months are so hard and babies then seem like wondrous little sleeping, crying and pooping alarm clocks. They are hard work but worth it. It gets better and better. (I sound like a primary care-giver when of course that credit goes to lovely Peaches).

Nowadays FHNO is blossoming with personality. Peaches spent most of May in Florida with the boys. We were apart for 10 days and when I returned he was like a different baby. He was sitting up on his own, holding his head high, giggly and smiley. He had a rough go of it for the first six months. Fortunately no allergies (in contrast to his brother Señor Frog) but he did have tummy troubles and eczema, which made him a somewhat fussy baby. We still have bouts but he has turned into such a charming little boy. He has never been an only child so he is content to entertain himself quietly. He's a big boy. He is only a few pounds short of his older brother. He is quiet and strong and does not need to be the center of attention. I can see him becoming a strong leader.

It's been a difficult week for FHNO this week and I'm glad I reread the baptism service and the hope it represents. Peaches fell and severely sprained her ankle. He fell with her and we ended up in the ER since his leg was hurting. X-rays revealed no broken bones and he is doing much better. It is hard to watch a little one in pain. Fortunately he is a trooper and generally it doesn't bother him unless it is pushed or pulled. He is a good kid.

His baptism was on June 3 and represents so many of the hopes we have for him both physically and emotionally:

"Sovereign Master, Compassionate King of All, bestow upon him also the  Seal of Your omnipotent and adorable Holy Spirit, and the Communion of the Holy Body and Most Precious Blood of Your Christ; keep him in Your sanctification; confirm him in the Orthodox Faith; deliver him from the Evil One and all his devices; preserve his soul, through Your saving fear, in purity and righteousness, that in every work and word, being acceptable before You, he may become a child and heir of Your heavenly Kingdom."

I should reread the service regularly to be reminded how to pray for my children. We are bombarded daily with messages about what we should want and wish for our kids. It's nice to pause from time to time and think about these things along a higher plane.

YET ANOTHER ISOLATION OPPORTUNITY

So as if there aren't enough ways for the 21st Century to further alienate us from one another, and spread our culture's excess of SELF-RELIANCE, we now have WikiHowTo.

Everyday more and more WikiHows pop up. How To Breed Hamsters, How To Soothe a Baby, How To Remove a Coffee Stain.

And my favorite: How To French Kiss.

Used to be when you wanted to learn something, you went and asked someone. Not anymore. Completely unnecessary.

The cost was the smallest amount of humility. The benefit was real relationships with real people.

How did I learn to french kiss? I was at summer camp and there was a cutie from the girls camp that I had my eye on. I asked David Landrum cause I knew he had done it and would give me the inside scoop. He said it would feel weird like a flavorless piece of bubble. He was right. David I became friends.

Today a kid can just WikiHow any subject. In the end it's a good thing, I suppose. But call me an old fart, 'cause I'm glad I had to ask David rather than reading it online.