Go Ask Dad's ABCs: I-J-K-L

I am continuing to play with my ABCs in terms of my experience as a dad. See last week's post for previous letters of the alphabet.

The letter I is for imagination, which is sometimes called fantasy and sometimes derisively dismissed as having your head in the clouds. True enough, a child might imagine a dinosaur, fairy, or otter in the sky. Imagination is a word that has “image” as its root and its wellspring. If you can picture something, you might imagine it into being, like yourself as a musician, librarian or writer. It may be that your imagination can show you who you really are.

J is for jump. I happened to pass a line of second graders waiting at the door of their classroom. One girl in the middle of the line suddenly jumped for no apparent reason that I could see. A boy behind her did the same, then another child behind him, and so on and so forth until the whole line was bouncing and giggling. This excitement caught the attention of the teacher, who turned around and, rather than scolding the jumpers, bent her own knees and left the ground, landing with a laugh. This goes to show you that not only jumping but also joy is contagious.

K is for my new favorite word, kerfufflehootenanny, which, before I define it, you just take a moment to sound out. Ker-fuf-fle-hoo-ten-an-ny! This incredibly fun word refers to an event full of chaos, confusion, and delight – the kind of cattywampus that leaves you flat-out bumfuzzled. When one encounters a kerfufflehootenanny, like that teacher before her jumping line of kids, the appropriate response is to laugh and join in.

L is for lackadaisical, which, curiously, is defined by other l-words like languid, languorous, and listless. These are not complimentary terms. But I discovered that the Latin root originally meant “roomy, spacious, free” and called to mind those lovely Saturday mornings that stretch into afternoons with no real plans. Whether lying on the floor playing LEGOs or poking around the neighborhood creek with my dear ones, nothing “gets done,” yet there is also nothing that I seem to lack.