Neanderdad looked around nervously before unloading the boy from the car. There was barely a soul in the outer parking lot at the community center where he took his 2-year-old son to swim, but he felt that a thousand eyes were upon him. The boy pointed excitedly at an airplane flying by and called out loudly, “Airplane.”

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Neanderdad was the protector. In a panic, he lurched across the room toward his son, stumbling over the dog that had sprawled inconveniently on the carpet. The boy was maddeningly agile for an 19-month-old and Neanderdad had been looking in another direction for a microsecond too long. In that moment, the boy had climbed onto the sofa and bridged the gap onto the living room coffee table. He now tottered gleefully over the hardwood floor like a drunken cliff diver.  Neanderdad just managed to grasp him in midtopple, earning the reward of a stubbed toe on the table corner. Continue reading →

Neanderdad’s people have many traditions, many important legends.  And at no time of the year were there more traditions and legends than during what Neanderdad’s people called ‘The holiday season.’   With this season now upon them, Neanderdad and his mate had dedicated themselves to exposing their offspring to every nuance.   The tree was up and decorated.  Stockings were hung with care.  Bright strings of lights twinkled on and off from the fences around their dwelling.  They even had a motorized and illuminated reindeer, which bobbed and whirred on the lawn, delighting the children (and disquieting the dog).   Continue reading →

Neanderdad concentrated so hard that his brow ached.  He knew his attention had a tendency to drift, but he was alone today with the girl and he wanted to stay in the moment.  He wanted her to know that she was his sole focus. That she was loved.   The only distraction in the dwelling was the dog, who had tried to insert himself in their play several times.  Neanderdad pushed the beast away. Continue reading →

It was dawn and Neanderdad was dreaming.  After struggling to get to sleep, then struggling to stay asleep, he was finally there.   He dreamed fitfully of a lush, green, mammoth-stocked valley.    Neanderdad was a night hunter, built for late-night forays.  He was not built for the morning.    But morning was now upon him.   Continue reading →

Neanderdad was confused.  His 3-year-old daughter held up a sippy cup with a built-in straw.  He had just conveyed to her that she must drink in the kitchen.  Yet she was still upset.  She waved it under his thick brow, as if to better reveal to him specific technical details that he did not understand.  Their family dog, who had been hanging around to scavenge food scraps, sensed trouble and drifted away.

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