Posts filed under 'sliker kids'
This one was sent by my wife earlier in the week, straight from IHOP’s “Malachi 4:6″ prayer meeting (led by IHOP kids):
I have been reminding him over and over again today that we are here to pray and worship. He is trying really hard to not play. So he was starting to climb under some chairs. So I got him up and asked him ,”Remember we are here to pray and worship. ” So he nods gets this focused look, almost a scowl on his face and gets right back on the floor to crawl under the chairs again. So then I get him up again and I ask him, “so how does that have to do with prayer or worship?” he says, “I was getting in my prayer cave. “
David
February 8th, 2008
It was the little guy’s birthday this past weekend and we celebrated by having an “army party”. Basically, we invited some cool 5 and 6 year olds over to the house, bought a bunch of nerf guns, and went crazy for a few hours.
In honor of his birthday, here’s a quick story. His kindergarten teacher was presenting the concept of liquid measurements to his class, and asked the kids to give her examples of liquids that they drink. She then asked the class to give examples of ones that their parents drink. The answers were the same - juice, and lots of it. The teacher kept pressing, trying to get someone to say “coffee”. Understanding that the teacher was looking for a different answer, Daniel’s hand shot up. He was confident that he had it.
“Beer.” Daniel said, straight-faced. “My Daddy drinks lots of beer.”
The teacher was caught off guard, and tried to suppress her laughter. “Are you sure Daniel?” She asked.
“Yep,” he said, nodding emphatically. “My Daddy drinks beer all of the time.”
She called me to tell me the story. I was stunned - I’ve had one beer over my whole life. I hated it. I made it to the bottom of the neck before giving it away in disgust. At this stage of my life as a leader, there are other many other factors that play into my decision to abstain from alcohol (my IHOP-KC staff commitment being one of them). But the original reason for abstaining from alcohol was simply because I hate how it tastes. So, confused, I talked to Daniel later that night.
“Hey buddy,” I said warmly, “tell me what you said in class to your teacher…I drink beer?”
“Yep,” he insisted, happily. “You love beer.”
This went on for a bit until I realized that he was talking about root beer. Which we don’t drink very often either. So, however you slice it, I have no clue what formed his thinking on this issue, but I thought it would be fun to tell the story nonetheless.
For the curious, here’s a shot of the little dude at the Call in Kansas City a month ago, in all of its thumbnail-sized glory:
February 4th, 2008
As we were driving home from a wedding on Sunday evening, we were talking to Daniel about his incredibly bold and serious dance moves at the reception. I mean serious dance moves - it was clear that he was looking to work the floor like a zamboni. He was dead serious in his rythmic flailings. I was impressed.
Of course, if you know Daniel, so was he - innocently impressed with his ability to bust a move:
Us: “Daniel, you were an amazing dancer tonigh!”
Daniel: “Yeah, I won a contest one time.”
Us: “What? You won a dance contest?”
Daniel: “Yep, I probably did. ”
In other words, he couldn’t remember actually being in a dance contest - but if he was in one, he probably won. He also told us that his gym teacher calls him the “dance champion”, thus he now considers himself the “champion of dancing”. Thanks, gym teacher. At least he didn’t call Daniel the “math champion”, or the “prince of penmanship”. He asked me if a was a dance champion when I was his age (4), to confirm in his mind the inherent (and inherited) coolness of such a feat.
Dance champion at four? Maybe not - but at 34 I have to keep reminding the IHOP-KC dance team how busy I am. They won’t stop calling me. My email box is filled with requests to prophetically interpret Revelation 19:11-17. I call it “The Grape Stomp” - maybe if you’re lucky you’ll catch a fleeting glimpse of my wizardry. Maybe when my schedule clears, I’ll jump in and dominate the intercessory dance scene with moves that would make any sane man’s eyes bleed.
For now, I’ll leave the floor to Daniel.
David
October 30th, 2007
More on Romans 11 (like, actually getting to the chapter) later this week, but first - another Danielism.
This one happened last night as Daniel was showing the Sliker family his muscles. He is fully flexing and strutting around our living room, showing me, Tracey, and then the girls his impressive biceps. “Look at my muscleeeeeees!” He droned with his little macho growl. Finally, he finishes up by flexing for our dog, Obie (Obediah to the uninitiated).
“Look at my muscleeeeeees, Obie!” He said as he posed with a menacing lurch over the dog. “Ahhhhh! I will defeat youuuuu!”
The confident, macho swagger by which he assured our dog of his eventual defeat had me in awe and riotous laughter for quite some time, so now I share my proud, fatherly glee with all of you.
David
September 24th, 2007
So, today at the dinner table, out of the blue, Daniel suddenly begins to tell a story to the family. It went a little something like this:
“I made a funny game today.” He’s looking down and chewing his food, speaking matter-of-factly.
“I raised my hand, and said ‘I know the answer!’” He demonstrated his hand-raising skills for us, mimicking exactly how he performed his funny game. “Then the teacher would call on me, and I would swallow air, and then I would go…” (insert burp here)
I looked down, trying to hold in my laughter. Everyone around the table begins giggling. “Everyone laughed at me,” he was back to speaking matter-of-factly again, chewing his food nonchalantly.
“Did your teacher get mad at you?” My wife asked.
“Nope.” Daniel said between bites, looking down at his plate. “She just said, ‘That’s not the answer…’” He relayed this to us in his best female teacher voice. Then he smiled a big smile, and finished up his dinner.
He followed that story up with another game he played. This time, he was sharing about how he threatened to put his friend in the toaster. His friend, according to Daniel, asked with a shocked look on his face (that Daniel imitated for us), “Are you joking?”
“No,” Daniel said, and scrunched his face. “I REALLY AM GOING TO PUT YOU IN THE TOASTER…” he droned for us, in his best monotone gravelly robot voice. I appreciated the monotone gravelly robot voice.
“Who are your friends, Daniel?” My wife asked as a follow-up.
“Everybody.” Daniel said, searching his plate for more meat.
“Any friends that are girls?” My wife wondered.
“Yup,” He said. “All of them.”
David
August 23rd, 2007
Leaving town, gone ’til Sunday night. The family and I are going…camping! Wow!
First I get a dog…now I’m going camping…
Clearly it’s the end of the age.
Miss you all - see you when I get back.
David
May 14th, 2007
If it’s all the same to you all, I’ll save the deep theological musings for the times I am writing from the prayer room. when I’m writing from home, I’ll throw in some of my personal thoughts on whatever comes to mind. Today, it’s the issue of my kid’s destinies in Christ.
It’s kind of interesting to think about the oddities of the culture I am proud to be a part of, as they express themselves in my funny little brain. I am keenly aware that even the simplest of exercises in modern Americana transform into something wholly other than in the lives, hopes, and dreams of many parents here at IHOP-KC. What will my children be when they grow up? Here at IHOP-KC, there are a few viable options to consider:
1. Martyr.
2. Prophetic messenger, prophetic singer, or prophetic messenger singer.
3. Prophetic marketplace forerunner evangelist.
4. Prophetic outcast John the Baptist-type.
5. Worship leader.
Some of the traditional options, then, seem to be off the table. Which is interesting (and ironic), because I actually think it’s within the bounds of reason and reality to think about some fairly lucrative careers for my kids. Dale Anderson talked to me last week about something I’ve suspected as a dad but couldn’t really dwell on without being accused of bias: that if I ever wanted to, in his words, “feed the American sports machine”, it’s entirely possible I have a first round draft pick on my hands with Daniel. I have to agree, and not in a biased way, because those of you who were paying attention a moment ago didn’t see “first round draft pick” on the aforementioned list. Daniel is naturally and obviously athletic by nature. He has always loved every sport, and we have never gone out of our way to teach or show him the various sports he claims to love and play.
I remember walking by the bathroom a year ago as Daniel, brushing his teeth, was looking in the mirror and talking forcefully to himself. “I love SPORTS!” He was saying, in his extra manly three-year old voice. “I love ALL SPORTS! I love BASEball, and FOOTball, and SOC-cer, and HOCKEY, and tennis, and BAS-ket-BALL….” the list went on and on. I shook my head, went downstairs, and added “Prophetic Intercessor” to the list, kicking myself for having forgotten. Most incredibly (and I’m self-aware enough to be in touch with how odd my thought processes are), I took a moment and thought about the pro sports option, remembered that it was the end of the age, that sports would cease to matter by the time Daniel could make any money at it, and went on with my business as usual.
This is relevant to me at the moment because Tiger Woods is on track to become the world’s first billionaire athlete, according to this week’s Sports Illustrated. He made $101 million dollars last year. For playing golf (and all of the extras that a pro golfer has access to nowadays, of course). Bass fisherman are making six figures. Parents are killing themselves, just killing themselves (and their kids) to get a piece of this pie. I’m excited for my son to gain an understanding of strategic thinking, team concepts, cooperation, and a measure of self-confidence through recreational athletics. I’m not so excited about what Dale accurately labeled the “American sports machine”.
Similarly, we have discovered that our middle daughter, Lauren, has stumbled into her favorite holiday. It is, of course, April Fools Day. She is quite good at fooling me, in part because she is so cute and innocent that I forget that a devious mind dwells beneath all of that precious cuteness. She is also very beautiful, for a six year old. She possesses the killer combination of looks, smarts, and real acting ability - acting ability that is pretty scary. This morning she came in the room and pretended to be asleep. I tried to wake her up to get going for church, and she pitched a pretty intense fit. She cried. Then she responded positively to my correction. A minute passed as she continued to act groggy and sleepy.
“Daddy,” she said, out of the blue.
“Honey…” I began, now confused as to why she suddenly sounded so wide awake, “you don’t sound sleepy anymore.”
“It’s April Fools Day, Daddy!” she said in the most chipper tone you could imagine, as she began to giggle mischievously. I sat on my bed, stunned that she pulled off the con the entire time. That took scary discipline - and she stuck with it, even while being scolded. Unbelievable.
She has gone on, to this point in the day, to pull four other pranks on me. She won’t tell me what else she has up her sleeve. “It’s a stheecret, Daddy,” she says in her distinctive little lisp, followed by a huge toothy smile.
She pulled off something similar a year and a half ago. Crying and visibly upset, she called me up to her room to deal with the biggest, creepiest, grossest bug I have ever seen. It’s just sitting there - and it looks horrible, but I can’t tell if it’s real or not. I go downstairs to get a weapon of some kind, and I’m freaked out. I can hear Lauren continuing to express her fear and discomfort as I shared with Tracey what was happening. Tracey convinced me ot to crush the monstrosity, but to trap it in a cup. Ugh.
When I return to the room to deal with the intruder, it’s moved up the lampshade. Lauren is trembling and crying. I am now both convinced it’s real and completely creeped out - and my scream of grossed-outedness alerts my wife that things have escalated to a new level in my battle with the bug. Then, out of the blue, totally unexpectedly, Lauren begins to giggle. It’s that giggle again. She had me. I was 100% fooled. I couldn’t believe that my four year old could pull off such a complex scheme - she was so convincing.
When I remembered that incredible feat of acting by my beautiful daughter, I shook my head this morning, headed to the fridge, and wrote down a new option on my list:
“6….Prophetic Dancer.”
David
April 1st, 2007
Since we all enjoyed the last one, I thought it would be helpful to inform you that Daniel laid out his extensive plans for his fifth birthday party next year. In February, 2008.
His party will be, in his words: “A superhero underwater dinosaur race car party” held at the only venue that could contain such supercharged awesomeness, Chuck E Cheese’s. Mark your calandars now.
It will involve, of course, Tracey playing race car video games while the rest of us slide cars down slides into the mouths of dinosaurs, after which time we would all follow our cars into the dinosaurs mouths as well.
See you there.
David
March 31st, 2007
Tonight at dinner, Daniel informed us that -
“A long time ago, when I was two years old, I was in my mommy’s belly…and I heard her voice…IN HER GUTS!”
I thought you would want to know.
Side note: Daniel was sporting his camo pants with a blue Spider-Man t-shirt and work boots. Someone commented to my wife that he looked cute. To which my wife, who calls that his “forbidden outfit”, dryly replied -
“Sure. Now all he needs is a red kool-aid mustache and a BMX bike.”
David
March 24th, 2007
There are some phrases that really should be preserved. So here are three, said yesterday at or around the eighth birthday party for Daniel’s big sister, Riley:
1. The set-up: Riley’s birthday party, the whole house is filled with girls…and Daniel. He just had his fourth birthday last week, and so he’s in a party mood again. Of course, he’s jumping around willy-nilly like a little madman, running and jumping and demonstrating his innate cool for all who gathered to this party to ignore. At one point I look at Tracey and comment, her reply is, “typical little brother.” As she says that, we both look back to note that Daniel is now doing the dolphin on the floor while kicking his legs wildly. At one point in the party, while wrestling with Sydney Roberts, he runs up to us and drops this little aside:
“I’m stronger than she is. I drink water.”
2. The set-up: the post family special dinner for Riley at the Sushi House, because Mom wanted to get the cool special room for Riley where you kind of sit on the floor and get all closed in. The response from Daniel -
“This is like a disco holiday!”
3. The set-up: the post family post special dinner, as Daniel and I are walking over to Barnes & Noble’s to meet the girls. He runs ahead of me and suddenly…is gone. Not seeing the three-step drop as he was running hard, he just launched himself over them and fell like a stone. More scared than hurt, I was propping up his ego by remarking how tough he is. When I ask him if he’s okay, he assures me with the following -
“Yeah. Four year-olds do that sometimes.”
I appreciate you hanging out with me for this episode of “Kids Say the Darndest Things”. I’ll have a regularly scheduled post in a bit.
David
February 12th, 2007
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