Blog Opus no. 1

So, I don't read blogs.  To be honest, I generally avoid social media like the plague.  But I decided it's about time someone started to chronicle the exploits of the McCulloch kids, so here we are.  I like to think of myself as one of the great historians thrust into the middle of Earth-altering events: on the front-lines of history.  Like Polybius following the Roman army around, recording their battles with Hannibal and the Carthaginians, or like Anderson Cooper at the camps in Haiti and sporting the radiation detector on his jacket in Japan--I'll even take to imagining myself like Geraldo wandering around Libya looking for crossfire.  But, the dream is broken every time I capitulate to cutting the crust off the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or accept the role of the prince who needs to be rescued from the ogre by the scientist-princess; and don't get me started on the tea parties with the one-eyed Fancy Nancy...

So, I'm not a historian on the epic scale of Livy, Josephus, or even the guy who broke the story on "Bat Boy." But, amidst Keenin's space battles between Spider-Man and a face he drew on his hand, or Reese's safaris hunting for geckos while wearing a tutu and a tiara, I find myself a witness to some pretty big adventures.  I may be more excited about a new vacuum cleaner than a widescreen TV these days, and my own great battles are getting the vegetables eaten before the dessert, but, for me, I'll take the stick figures and "M" birds hung by an alphabet magnet on the fridge door over the Louvre any day; scraped knees and the consumption of candy of unknown origin from off of the ground are triage enough for me;  getting the "rock star" welcome every time I come home (even if the "fans" have runny noses and Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease) is way cooler than that stupid little gold dude from the Oscars; and I'm pretty sure becoming inured to the torture of Barney and Caillou makes me capable of handling anything Jack Bauer or Guantanamo Bay can hand out.  

So, the title for my blog comes from a time at the zoo when Reese saw the baboons and became completely enthralled with them.  We didn't understand it at first.  Reese likes all things "princess."  There's nothing "princessy" about a baboon.  We didn't understand it, that is, until she said, "I wish I was a baboon.  I wish I had a pink butt."

So, Reese, here's to your pink butt...