Dear USA Today,

How many more of these must be made…

…before one makes it into here?

Asking for a friend.

Sincerely,

www.CookiesbyDave.com

Oats will help lower cholesterol.

Oats will not make your kitchen floor shiny and clean.

Nobody’s perfect, not even Quaker Oats.

I just dropped my son off in your neighborhood.  So if you see a roving pack of feral teens wandering down your road, please don’t call the police.

That is all.  Thank you.

 Today, my 10-year-old son Ben had a basketball game in an elementary school gym.  Elementary school gym, which translates into parent speak as “tiny bleachers snug up against the court.” This may seem like a good thing (“Hey, up close seats”), but in reality it’s not so great (“Ugh, unintended and ill-equipped spectator seating”).

Well, there we were sitting way too close, when the ball went out of bounds and the other team prepared to inbound.  The opposing player grabbed the ball and searched for a teammate.

In between the opposing player and the rest of his team was my son Ben.  He did as he was taught.  Ben jumped up and down, while waving his arms.  He was aggressively creating an inbound pass road block.

Suddenly, Ben glanced our way and winked.  A bit of showmanship worthy of the big leagues.

My son Ben may need to work on moving the ball up the court, but he certainly has his swagger down.

First, you find a sweater long buried in the back of your closet.

Second, you discover that it helps you find your inner sock monkey.

Third, that is all.

Approaching the work kitchenette, I figured that I would make small talk with a co-worker.  “So are you busy with year-end stuff?,” I asked.

My co-worker looked at me with a puzzled and slightly shocked look on his face.  “I’m sorry.  What did you say?,” came his baffled response.

I tried again, “Are you busy with year-end stuff?”

“Oh!,” he said with a bit of relief on his face and continued to answer my question.

After our short talk, I returned to my desk a little confused and ran the conversation through my mind.  Hearing my own voice in my head, it soon became clear.  If I mumbled slightly (a common occurrence), my question may well have sounded like, “Are you busy with urine stuff?”

Well, I think we all can agree that “urine stuff” is a poor way to wrap up a year.

Ten minutes before taking my 10-year-old son Ben to basketball practice, I glanced into the living room.  There I saw young Ben doing push ups, push ups on the couch.  It was disturbing behavior.  Some would even call it “squirrelly” behavior.  I moved on.

Onto picking up Ben’s friend to take him to practice, as well.  There in the backseat, the two of them giggled as they filled out a Mad Libs book.

“Hey Dad, name a plural noun.” Answer, “squirrels.”

“Name a noun.” My answer, “squirrel.”

“Name an adjective.” Oh, you know it, “squirrelly.”

“Dad, you’re using ‘squirrel’ for everything.” Yep, sure seems appropriate for tonight.

So I was walking through the grocery store and I saw this…

That’s right.  “Yoga Puppies.” Really?  A Yoga Puppies calendar.

This startling discovery led me to an unexpected emotion:  anger.  That’s right, a Yoga Puppies calendar made me angry.  This led me to consider possible reasons why…

• Puppies don’t do yoga.  They just look like they are doing yoga.
• Why must I see it?
• It’s Christmas time and that causes stress, the Yoga Puppies are not to blame.  Yes, they are.
• People actually pay $7.99 for this calendar.
• The people who actually pay $7.99 for this calendar.
• It is NOT a grocery item, but it is for sale in the grocery store.  I thought this was my safe place.
• Why isn’t it on sale?
• It is one entire year full of Yoga Puppies.  Too much.  One month would be too much, but this is twelve times too much.
• Me.  I’m actually to blame.  There’s nothing wrong with puppies who appear to be doing yoga.  Please, just don’t make me look at it.  Ever.  Again.  I am sorry.  That is all.

If you ever had any doubt, my phone just confirmed it.

 That’s right, I’m a winner.  Gosh darn it.

Winning feels better than losing.  I’m sorry, but it just does.

Today, my 10-year-old son Ben celebrated his birthday and his basketball team celebrated with a win.  One year ago, it was a different story.  A much different story.  On his birthday last year, they lost.  Lost bad.  Bad by 40 some points kind of bad.  It was ugly.  It hurt.

I guess that’s what made this win feel so much better.  My son knew the sting of a loss.  An ugly loss.  A loss, where your butt was thoroughly kicked.

A one point victory, now that feels good.  Good and better, so much better than losing.