Teddy Defies the Odds

The minute I saw him on the store shelf during the 1986 Christmas season, I knew I was a goner.

Never mind that this was the most impractical Christmas gift ever for a four-year-old child. Never mind that it cost way too much. The minute Teddy batted those huge animatronic eyes and crooned, "Come dream with me tonight . . . ," I was ready to hop in the airship myself and fly away.

Manufactured by Worlds of Wonder, Teddy Ruxpin was an animated teddy bear who was activated by cassette tapes inserted under his tunic. Once the tapes began (I never understood why they ran backwards, by the way), Teddy's eyes would blink open and shut and his mouth would move in sync with the stories and music they contained.

Each tape came with a storybook, and an audible signal would inform children when to turn the pages. Through Teddy, we all met a delightful cast of characters that included the Woolly Whats-It, along with Teddy's best bud, Grubby the octopede, and their scientist friend, the aptly named Newton Gimmick.

Although Teddy's popularity skyrocketed in the mid-1980s, that fame fizzled out just about as fast, mostly due to the unfortunate timing of his arrival on the toy scene. Even early on, Teddy  bounced from company to company as he struggled to rise above a plummeting stock market.

He also had the misfortune of being a tape-playing machine arriving on the cusp of the compact disc era, and therefore was doomed before he could get a good paw-hold. Adding to the problems were the facts that his four C batteries tended to deplete rapidly, making upkeep even more expensive, and his mechanism was especially sensitive to damage.

Furthermore, consider the way four-year-olds generally treat their teddy bears. Is it really a good idea to give them an expensive piece of sensitive machinery and hope for any kind of good outcome? Think about it.

Although daughter Cookie was pretty careful with Teddy, he still went through batteries like a herd of cows through small bales of hay in the dead of winter. (It didn't help that his switch often got left in the "on" position.) Then, eventually, his animated features stopped working, forcing him to tell his stories like a ventriloquist with his eyes shut. But even then I couldn't stand the thought of getting rid of him, so he found a home for many years on a shelf in the bedroom closet.

That is, until just this past summer. To my delight, it seems that Bootsie, four years old herself, took a shining to Teddy, who, despite the fact that his eyes and mouth are frozen shut, still tells a story as well as ever. During the week that Bootsie stayed with me in July, this was a common sight:

An so, with nearly thirty years under his tunic, Teddy lives to entertain another generation of children in my house. That is pretty amazing, and I am so glad I didn't give up on him.

Our Fair Friend Otto

By the time the state fair pulls into our town every August, the kids and I already have a mental list of the things we will do. We will gaze down from the top of the Ferris wheel to see buildings that look like Legos, and people and cars that appear no bigger than toys.

We will go to see the "butter cow," hand-sculpted from hundreds of pounds of butter, in its refrigerated compartment of the dairy bar. And, of course, we will talk to Otto.

Otto will talk to us, too, because that's what Otto does. He is, after all, a talking car. Specifically, he is a 1931 Model A Ford roadster of the kind formerly used by the Missouri State Highway Patrol. Every year, Otto comes to his special open-air garage in the fair's Highway Gardens to converse with children about any variety of topics, safety-related and otherwise.

Most fortunately, daughter Cookie captured last month's visit to Otto in a rare digital moment that includes me and all six grandkids:

There, totally immersed in as deep a conversation as you can have with a hunk of metal, are, from left to right, Sooby, Bootsie, Googie (no, I am not a midget; I am on my knees), Beenie, Beenie and Heero's mama, Heero, Zoomie, and Pooh (who, microphone in hand, is acting as our spokesman).

As I understand it, Otto first came to our fair in the late 1960s. He not only talks (with appropriate help from a trooper with a remote device) but also blinks his eyes and honks. As you leave his garage, he will see that the kids all get a T-shirt and a coloring book. What's not to like about a guy who can do all that?

Like Smokey the Bear in the Conservation Building and the llama in the petting zoo, Otto wears one of the iconic faces of our fair. He is a true personality, complete with jokes and teasing and the occasional safety tip.

The kids dearly love him, and so do I. No trip to the state fair would be complete without a detour through the Highway Gardens where kids are loyal subjects and Otto is king.

The Silver Lining

I would never want this boy to be sick. I would always wish for him to be as happy and healthy as he looks here at our family reunion last month:

But if sick he must be, I would wish for it to be just barely bad enough to ban him from daycare--because this means that he gets to spend the day with me.

This week, a minor throat infection struck Beenie, and I had the pleasure of his company all day yesterday and the day before. His mild illness may have created a little cloud of intermittent fever and a runny nose, but our time together edged that cloud with a silver lining.

With no time to plan and no particular agenda, we were content to simply let the days unfold on their own and go with the lazy flow of late summer. We ate when we wanted to, played when we wanted to, and napped when we wanted to.

On their own, our two days assumed a kind of animal theme. Here, in ascending order of time spent, are the three activities that kept us the busiest:

Number 3: A Berenstain Bears Book Titled The Spooky Old Tree

When it comes to a simple story and illustrations that truly captivate a three-year-old, Jan and Stan hit the nail on the head with this delightful book. In it, the three Berenstain cubs, equipped with flashlight, stick, and rope, take off on an adventure inside a gnarled, darkly ominous old tree nestled in a wooded area inhabited by bats and vultures.

One by one they lose their possessions to an alligator, a broad axe falling from a suit of armor, and Great Sleeping Bear, who wakes up in a really bad mood when the cubs crawl up over his back as he sleeps. Although Great Sleeping Bear chases them with a large, growly scowl, they are able to hightail it out of the tree and back home to Mama Bear, but not before having the biggest adventure of their little ursine lives.

Beenie was most fascinated by the "suiting armors" lined up in the "spooky old hall" that the little bears dared to investigate behind a secret panel deep inside the spooky old tree. Many questions and comments related to Great Sleeping Bear came in a close second: "Is he mad? What's he doing? What's he saying?" You get the idea.

Number 2: The"Elefun" Game

My most recent (and best) dollar spent at a garage sale went for a game in which a battery-powered fan blows plasticized paper butterflies up through the soft, collapsible plastic trunk of a jolly blue elephant. Once the fan motor is turned on, twenty-something red, yellow, and green butterflies fill the air above and flutter down to be netted by an excited, giggling boy who is supposed to be sick but is not acting like it.

The whole process takes less than thirty seconds, and then it is time to reload and do the whole thing over . . . and over . . . and over. I can't say enough about how much true "Elefun" Beenie and I had with this. In fact, it is so much fun that you don't even mind the reloading.

Number 3: Dinosaur Flash Cards

The same garage sale got me, this time for 50 cents, a like-new deck of thirty-six flash cards with pictures and facts about dinosaurs. Although the cards are recommended for ages five and above, Beenie absolutely loved these. Early in the game, he picked out a dinosaur to represent each member of his family. (I am proud to say that I am the allosaurus.)

Beenie wanted me to go through the deck over and over pronouncing those difficult multi-syllable dinosaur names (Thank you, pronunciation key!). "What's this one called about?" he asked each time he turned up a new card. I'll be honest--tuojiangosaurus and pachycephalosaurus took a little practice--but I venture to say you haven't lived until you have heard a three-year-old say struthiomimus. Many times.

Dorothy and her friends on the Yellow Brick Road may have had their fun in the realm of lions, tigers, and bears.  But--Oh My!--what fun Beenie and I had this week with dinosaurs, elephants, and bears. It may not have been Oz where we were, but for the past two days this old house has been every bit as magical.

It All Makes Sense

"Three-year-olds learn primarily through exploring, using all the senses." So says the "Child Development Tracker, "a feature on the PBSparents web page. I may have already suspected that, but I know it for sure after spending twenty-five straight, mostly one-on-one, hours with Beenie the last couple days. With Pa-pa working basically sun-up to sundown at our state fair this week, Beenie was just what I needed to add some fun and excitement to these long days at home by myself.

Just look at that face. Doesn't it just cry out with enthusiasm for exploring? Indeed, the two of us had a glorious time together, with no sense left undeveloped (and some of them working overtime). Here is a rundown of our adventures for the perusal of all you child development specialists:

Certainly we deserve high marks in the tactile category. Those ten little Lego people (most of them wearing helmets--go figure) sitting side by side on the block bench we created took some serious hand-eye coordination, small motor skills, and downright manual dexterity. Add to this a couple hours in the pool both days, and you have a field day for your sensory receptors.

Accompanying us to the pool were three plastic dinosaurs--twin brontosauruses Tex and Rex (who is surprised?) and Max, who, just to complicate things, is a T-Rex. The dinosaurs were quite happy to bob around for our entertainment, until, due to minuscule, invisible holes in their anatomy, they took on water and sank. This required a deep-sea fishing expedition, after which considerable squeezing was required to rid them of excess water, leading naturally to a spirited discussion, complete with demonstration, of the potty habits of prehistoric creatures.

In our drier moments, Beenie and I moved on to develop the senses of taste and smell, which took the form of a huge bowl of popcorn the first day and a box of donuts (with chocolate icing) the next morning. To accompany our popcorn ("Can you get your own bowl, Googie?"), Beenie picked a movie from my sizable collection and we settled with our blankets into a huge recliner big enough for the two of us to sit side by side.

I would not have expected the movie he picked--Baby Mozart--but it offered us thirty minutes of utter nostalgia and serenity with its parade of colorful baby toys against the backdrop of lively, upbeat Mozart music. A VHS videotape we played together every afternoon Beenie stayed with me during his first year, it has not lost its appeal for him despite its intent to target younger children. Given his choice, Beenie asked for "Baby Ein-a-stein," and in that we got our fill of visual and auditory delight--supplemented, of course, by the books we snuggled up together to read at naptime.

Beenie's favorite of my storybooks, at the moment, are  Margaret Wise Brown's Goodnight Moon (which he calls "Fireplace" because of the cover picture), Jane Miller's Farm Alphabet Book, Roger Priddy's Happy Baby Colors, and Mary Murphy's I Like It When . . . ."  His CD of choice for car travel is Barney's House, and with that, we are back to where we started with Barney's close relatives Rex, Tex, and Max the T-Rex.

So, yeah, PBS people, the three-year-old-year is truly sensory in nature for both little boys and their Googies. He might be exploring for the purpose of learning, but I just get to revel in the sensory delights that are mine alone. I get to enjoy the warm snuggles, that cute little voice--and that rare moment when I actually get to have a bite of my own popcorn.

The Making of a Pa-pa

Googie's Attic certainly wouldn't be the same without a permanent fixture named "Pa-pa." Certainly, in the eight years we have been grandparents, Pa-pa has done his share to make the memories happy ones.

It is Pa-pa that keeps our swimming pool going, builds our weenie roast fires, and gives the best rides on a John Deere Gator. So Pa-pa, on your 73rd birthday, here is a little recap featuring you and your kiddos.

It was Sooby who first made you Pa-pa on June 30, 2007. She was followed closely by her brother Pooh on Feb. 2, 2009.

Then, on Oct. 4, 2010, their little sister, Bootsie, came along. Looks like you must've really liked that red and black plaid shirt!

Son Teebo started his own branch of our family tree when Beenie (left) joined the fun on March 20, 2012. Three months later, on June 25, daughter Cookie added Zoomie to the line-up.

Last (so far) came Beenie's little brother, our little Heero, on Nov. 4, 2013.

And that, dear Pa-pa, is how we came to be the grandparents of six children in a little over six years. It has been a blur of diapers, high chairs, car seats, and sippy cups, but I am sure that neither of us would trade the experience for anything.

Just this morning, from his vacation on a Florida beach, Beenie called to sing "Happy Birthday" to you. We all echo that sentiment and look forward to many more good times to come.

The Dire Prognosis

It is somewhat disconcerting, after all these years, to think that I might lose not only my job but also my home. Sad as it may be, I predict at least a 50-50 chance that, in the not too distant future, my services may no longer be needed in my current work environment.

It's not that I haven't been busy. In fact, the past eight years have found me very much in demand. At times I have had more customers than I could accommodate. Nothing or no one in the immediate vicinity is able to perform my job quite like I do. You might say I am built for this job--and I have worked faithfully and diligently at it for a long time now.

Let the record show that I have executed my duties despite considerable abuse. I have been climbed, mauled, and kicked. I have endured an abundance of pounding and caterwauling. I am often left in a total mess.

This is not my first time to be uprooted. In fact, it was just about eight years ago this summer that I was shoved into a garage in an undignified manner and stuck with a totally demeaning price tag of $15. Luckily for me, a nice lady named "Googie" came along and adopted me. She gave me a good bath, and gave me my own corner of her kitchen.

She got a good deal. I come from good stock, the Fisher-Price line. I needed very little training, and never produced a mess of my own making. I have been caught many times, however, with egg on my face as well as on my other various body parts. Still, I have stood tall, kept quiet, and never snitched on any of those little rascals who tried to make me look bad.

Just look at this innocent face:

I ask you, do you think I should be forced to leave my happy home here at Googie and Pa-pa's? Or, worse yet, subjected to another garage line-up?

I will admit I am worried. My sixth customer is just about to turn two years old, and already his legs dangle way down past my foot-rest. Is it my fault he is such a big, healthy kid? Already I have heard him say he wants to sit at the counter with my five other former customers. How quickly they forget.

So as you can clearly see, my future is at best uncertain and at worst in utter peril. Unless there is soon evidence of a seventh grandkid for Googie and Pa-pa, I am toast, and I don't mean the kind that is permanently petrified in all my nooks and crannies.

Here's to Dr. Seuss!

It's official--Dr. Seuss is immortal.

Although he died in 1991 at age 87, his heretofore unpublished book is being released this month, according to the current issue of American Profile (July 19-25, 2015, p. 6).

Yes, right there on America's bookshelves, alongside fellow Pulitzer Prize winner Harper Lee's much-anticipated Go Set a Watchman, will be Theodor Seuss Geisel's What Pet Should I Get? I can't decide which one I am the most anxious to get my hands on.

While Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird has been, up to now, the sole ticket to her widespread literary fame, Dr. Seuss's prolific collection of children's books has nurtured the imaginations of generations of children for nearly a century. Among them, I am proud to say, have been my little brother, my own children, and my grandkids.

On the occasion of his new book release nearly twenty-five years after his death, I offer him this poetic tribute, composed in the tradition of his own readily recognizable rhyme and metrical patterns. The poem is an acrostic, meaning that the first letters of each line, when read downward, spell out his name. I hope it will bring some great memories to mind as you anticipate with me the release of What Pet Should I Get?

A Salute to Dr. Seuss

The Cat in the Hat came when Mother was out.

He made our fish nervous and then made him shout.

Each Who down in Whoville remembers the day

Old Grinch came and kidnapped their Christmas away.

Do you like green eggs? Will you eat some green ham?

Oh, come on and try them--be like Sam I Am!

Remember The Foot Book and all of those feet

So distinctly unique as they walked down the street?

Elephants don't often roost in a tree

Unless Horton sits down where a bird ought to be.

Such genius poured from this pen and--oh boy--

Such a legacy left for us all to enjoy!

Geisel was great with the rhythm and rhyme.

Ev'ry kid with a book of his had a great time

Imagining characters, playing with sound

So ingrained in the words that this poet wrote down.

Each fun-loving reader, regardless of age,

Loves the way Doc could play with the words on a page.