Coco holds up her hand while playing her penguin game.

I´m going to my igloo to relax.

My daughter learned to play this game on the computer with penguins. She adores it and now of course I may have created a battle ground for the computer.

When can I play penguins?

Since my computer was broke for awhile, she´s been a little antsy. Now that my keyboard actually types letters instead of giving me back a blank stare, she´s poking her head in every few minutes to see if it´s her turn.

How can I compete with penguins and persistent little six year olds?

Get my self a penguins I guess.

Addison takes a long time to eat anything that has more crunch than an apple; more chew than chicken. So, I haul food with me whenever we go out of the house. It´s not that he doesn´t have an appetite. No, this kid loves to eat, but if its not mushy and blended, I have to resort to refried beans at a restaurant (and this is not a pretty sight when it comes out the other end)….anyway….

I fetched a child´s high chair, which is a wood thing that wouldn´t pass safety standards for a rabbit to sit in the States, but alas it´s what we´ve got. His feet dangle, so it’s a challenge to find holes to stick them in such as pants, bathing suits, and high chairs. I got him in the chair and began spooning in the steak, butter, avocado, cherry, and celery goo (you´d be amaze at how good it actually is)…anyway…

He ate and ate. I turned my head for a moment and when I looked back, Addison had almost completely slipped out of the chair and was about to fall on the floor. He was suspended by his crotch in the high chair strap and by his chin, which stuck on the edge of the table.

When I turned my head back to look at him, it took a moment to register that my son was either about to choke or fall onto to the tile floor.

“Oh my gosh!” I said as I set down the greyish food goo. My daughter slapped up a string of spaghetti on the other side of the table as I moved Addison back and readjusted his demeanour.

He’s slippery - not like a snake oil salesman, but literally slippery. If I don´t hold him just right; if I try to carry a glass of water while hauling him down the stairs; if I miss the smallest of straps, he can slip away from me and be splayed flat on the floor in a split second.

Addison finished eating, and I set him under this play gym that was right next to the restaurant. He watched the kids running over him and around him. He giggled and slipped right through a hole of the purple play set as he watched the other kids zoom by.

Just do the right thing…it seems like such a simple concept. But, first what exactly is the right thing?

Birthday parties at the Bouncy Bouncy Gym where hundreds of dollars are spent and pounds of candy pour out of a piñata??

Working all hours of the day all for the good of someone else?

Baking bread into the wee hours of the night so the children can feel warm and sunny inside?

Saving street animals?

Being with your children?

Being away from your children?

Shaving your leg and armpit hairs?

Or not.

I often wonder who we do our good deeds for. Maybe, if we were honest like that time when we are either terribly drunk or haven´t slept in days, we can admit we might be doing those good things for ourselves - for those highs that keep us distracted from the gore and goo of everyday life - the tasks and tribulations of the body, the mind, the kids, and the family.

The right thing?

Often, and I hate to say this because this includes me, is the hard thing. But the key is, the hard part doesn´t last for long. After diving into the muck and feeling the pain and heartache of fear, boundaries, loss of control, honesty (and I mean core honesty), there we are naked, vulnerable, and most of all…real. That´s the most right thing of all.

I never know if all this running kids around is what we should be doing. Who defined these rules of activities?

Soccer, ballet, gymnastics, baseball, art class, music class….and you know, the list grows and there´s something new all the time we “just have to have our kids in.”

So, my daughter wanted to start soccer. Athletics for girls are not a cultural norm here in Costa Rica. It´s still on the fringe. I searched for a group because she was dying to play.

Soccer is no small thing in most of the world. The old ladies watch it, and I realized that this was one way that my daughter connected with her culture. Although she gets ooodles of my “packaging” she lives here.

I finally found a group where girls played. Plus, it was a group of kids she already knows. She cowers behind me before every practice, but she bucks up and jumps in amidst the chaos of flailing feet and balls.

Her socks come up above her knees because I couldn´t find anything smaller. In fact, the ball almost comes up to her knees. She now lasts the full two hours in the hot sun. Taking water breaks with the big girls when the coach gives them five.

I think childhood is a miracle everytime a kids makes it out of the nest. It is really amazing how much care has to go into just one human being.

And then, I tote my child to soccer, and I see she´s alive, bubbling, so joyous to do this wish she so wanted to do. And these are the moments I see clearly and give a little thank you - to anyone who´s listening.

We got one right. Now, what about that baking class?

If there was something easy to do today, this could be it:

Stand in the middle of your kitchen;

Tap your heels together three times (regardless of shoe style);

And remember the deep goodness of those inside your home - the ones right next to you.

There’s just no place like home.