ONE BY ONE

Dear Spike:

Here is the day we shared, in seven haikus:

Breakfast with Ravitz
She hurts. Misses her father.
Holds the baby. Sighs.

Back home through the park.
Ducklings cannot scale the wall
One by one, I help.

I miss my wife's call.
My daughter leaves the message.
"Bye bye bye, dada"

Summertime with mom.
Now you cry when I hold you.
Forget me so soon?

Dinner with our friends.
She carries their first child.
Ah, nostalgia.

Goodbye breastpump, swing.
We don't need them anymore.
Paying it forward.

Bath time. We play games.
Where's your head? Where's your tummy?
You show me, smile.

Love,
dad

SPIKU — PART FOUR

Dear Spike's friends:
Time for the next edition of our irregular DearSpike.com 'Spiku' contest.
You know the rules: Five syllables, seven syllables, five syllables.
Top entries go to a vote of the people. Winner gets something neat-o.
Today's subject: bodily fluids.
Love, Spike's dad

Dear Spike:

You're blowing bubbles.
Snot bubbles, that is. Oh my,
How my life has changed.

Love,
dad

CONGRATULATIONS TO ANNA

Dear Spike's Friends:

Congratulations to Anna, mommy of two adorable kids, scrapbooking
pro, photo ace, former English teacher, past Miss Clatsop County, and, if that wasn't all enough, winner of the second irregular (but nonetheless awesome) "Spiku" contest.

Here is her poem, in case you missed it...

Found: One baby girl

Loud, whiny and whimpering

Will pay to give back

Love,
Spike's dad

YOU! GO VOTE

Dear Spike's Friends:

One day left to vote in the 'Spiku' poll. I know I don't need to tell you what is riding on this. Rock the vote. Choose or lose. Blah blah blah. 

The poll is to the right and down just a bit.

Love,

Spike's dad

TIME TO VOTE

Dear Spike's Friends:
In honor of Super Duper Tuesday, a new Spike Poll has been released in which we'll choose the winner of "Spiku Two."
Hidden from the public in the smoke-filled back rooms of "party headquarters," the greedy party power brokers (Spike and I) have eliminated all but four candidates (the rest of you need to learn a little more about "lobbying" if$you$know$what$I$mean).
Here they are, in no particular order...

Temper tantrum tot
For sale real cheap to good home
Good luck... you'll need it
—Carole

Feisty little girl
Who does not care for boundaries
Can be yours. B.O.
— Meeshemama

Found: One baby girl
Loud, whiny and whimpering
Will pay to give back
— Anna

Miracle needed
Two former tots moving fast
Last seen growing up
— Sfox

Thanks to everyone for playing — now go vote!
Love,
Spike's dad


Dear Spike:

Your mother and I cast our primary election votes this morning — the first time we've done so as a family. As usual, you wooed the old ladies at the poll, and picked up two more "I voted" stickers for your collection.

In Utah, only one of the two party races actually resembles a race this year. On the Republican side, former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney, who is seeking to become the first member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to be elected president, is a lock to win the GOP nomination in this largely Mormon state. On the Democratic side, however, Barack Obama and Hilary Clinton are running close in the polls, and since the Utah Democratic Party allows independent voters to participate in its primary, I cast my vote in that race.

Times like this come along infrequently. Come November's general election, the Democratic nominee will either be vying to be our nation's first black president or its first female president. And on the other side of the ballot, the Republican nominee will either be seeking to become our first Mormon president or our first Vietnam veteran president. The diversity of that group makes me proud. And it gives me hope.

Because this will be such a historic election, and because über-conservative Utah's November vote is generally considered to be a forgone conclusion, even before we know who we'll be voting for, it was nice to know that, today, my vote might actually matter — helping determine who the Democratic nominee will be.

But I'd caution you against making that a prerequisite for participating. Yes, sometimes it's going to feel like it doesn't matter. And sometimes, mathematically speaking, it really won't, but I encourage to you make the time to vote anyway — it's one of the few things you can do to simultaneously tell this country that you're disgusted with it and that you love it.

Love,
dad

SPIKU. . . TWO

Dear Spike's Friends:
Per a fun and lovely suggestion from Spike's Godmother, it's time for the second irregular edition of "Spiku." This week's challenge: Write a Haiku in the form of a classified advertisement. The ad must be baby related. Anything else goes. You can either act as buyer or seller. But please, none of those creepy "I saw you at the Starbucks" ads. I'll pick the top four, then let you vote in a poll. Winner gets a genuine press pass from the Miss America Pageant. No, really. (I'll be writing Spike more about it soon.)
Love,
Spike's dad
P.S. — This is all in good fun. Please do not call child protective services.

From Spike's dad:
For sale: one baby
Good condition, hardly used
Will take best offer

From Spike's mom:
Wanted: A hot bath
An uninterrupted sleep
Slumbering baby

SPIKU

Announcing the first semi-regular "Spiku" contest. Write a haiku for Spike (or any kid you love) and post it here. Winner gets a trip to Las Vegas. Or something else.

Dear Spike:

Today you are six months old. I wrote you a poem:

Spiku
Six months. Summer. Fall.
Now, with winter upon us,
Joy, my girl, such joy.

Love,
dad