by Randall Allen Dunn

I can’t watch the movie, “Curious George”, without crying. Okay, I cry easily at movies. My wife thinks it’s sweet. But this movie makes me cry and laugh more than usual. I always liked Curious George books. I liked them even more after taking in our newborn foster daughter, Abby, who is now two years old. She’s wide-eyed and curious, full of energy, with a big, adorable smile. When I told my wife that Abby resembles Curious George, Nicki insisted, “Our baby does NOT look like a monkey!”

Until we saw the movie. Once she saw this beautiful portrayal of Curious George’s relentless fascination with everything around him, she said, “Okay. I guess she does look like Curious George.”

Not just because they share those big, bright eyes full of wonder, or the same broad, infectious grin. It’s because George – like Abby – takes such innocent pleasure in constant play. We once assured one of Abby’s daycare workers that, “Yes, she’s like this at home. No, she never stops moving.”

It’s also because the movie’s Curious George does all the adorable things that Abby does. Pretending some object is a hat, as George does with a sandwich. Mimicking everything she sees us do, the way George mimics Ted (the “man with the yellow hat”, voiced by Will Ferrell). Making little animal growls at bears and lions, the way George growls at a toy shark. Cuddling up to our necks when she’s upset.

So, yes. Our little baby is a monkey. On certain days, most parents would say they have a little monkey, too. Days when they panic, because they don’t know exactly where their child is. They’re usually not panicking for the child, but at the thought of what the child might be doing to something or someone.

In the movie, poor Ted seems to have it worse than most “parents”. George turns the entire city into his personal playground, while making a mess of Ted’s career. Finally reaching his limit, Ted decides to let Animal Control take George back to Africa. As I watch the handlers pry George off of Ted’s leg to throw him into their truck, I can’t help tearing up. “It’s not Abby,” Nicki reminds me as she hands me tissues. “It’s just a cartoon, and Animal Control is not taking our daughter away.”

But that little cartoon face looks just like Abby’s, desperately clinging to that adult leg. Of course, Ted isn’t a parent, and doesn’t see himself continuing to care for a reckless monkey. Any of us parents would have changed our minds upon seeing George’s face. We would have pushed the handlers aside, grabbed George and ran. Ted doesn’t yet realize that, as messy as life is with George, it’s completely empty without him. Once he does, he hurries to get George back.

Our children are like that. No matter how tired we get from chasing them around, no matter how cranky we get from living on five hours of nightly sleep, no matter how helpless we feel when they dump stew on their heads in a restaurant, we love them. They make horrible messes, cry, complain about the food they were served or the color of crayon they were given. But we couldn’t imagine life without them, and we wouldn’t want to.

As I write this, Nicki has returned from the store. She asks me to feed Abby while she brings groceries in. It will be easy because she picked up fast food for lunch, and Abby loves french fries. 

As I hand her a cherished french fry, Abby stares up at me with her big, beautiful eyes, then rips the fry apart and mashes it down on her head, spreading the salt through her hair.

I don’t mind that much.

The following article was written in April 2008, several weeks before “American Idol” announced David Cook as this year’s winner.

It’s amazing what lengths we will go to when we don’t want to hear criticism. And criticism has found a home on “American Idol”, where hopeful contestants compete to become the next singing star. Of course, the worst critiques come at the start of the season, when many people don’t make the cut, while stubbornly insisting they have star talent, no matter what industry professionals say. And throughout the season, the harshest words spew from the “grumpy” British panel judge, Simon Cowell.

This past season, people seemed to have less patience than ever for Simon’s brutal opinions. After all, Simon has a gift – or curse – for painting vivid, nightmarish pictures of how horrible a contestant’s performance was. He has told contestants that they sounded like an annoying relative, either very old or very young, whose family is forced to listen to their awful singing. He’s told finalists they were “cheesy”, “irritating”, “boring”, or bordering on “desperation”. While other judges gush about a performance, Simon can be counted on to tear it to pieces.

So if people can’t stand Simon’s feedback, why is he still on the panel after six seasons?

Because he’s usually right.

His comments may be scathingly honest or needlessly cruel, but his descriptions are often pinpoint-accurate. No matter what the other judges say. No matter how many audience members “boo” and hiss. No matter how much the host tries to deflect or discredit the stinging criticism to keep things on a positive note. None of these efforts change the truth of Simon’s criticism.

In life, we all tend to avoid the pain of criticism. After all, truth hurts. Unless you refuse to listen to it.

Some people avoid it by stubbornly disagreeing. Some try to persuade their critics by explaining their motives. Some try to gather supporters to their side, demonstrating that the majority supports them, so the critic ought to do the same.

None of these efforts change the facts, if the performance was, in fact, flawed. Not everyone will like you or support you. Part of maturing is learning how to listen to criticism and learn from it, without becoming full of self-pity or full of ourselves.

One of the twelve finalists, David Cook, attempted to deflect some of Simon’s criticism halfway through the season. He answered Simon by saying that he didn’t need to please the judges, but only the fans who would vote on his performance.

Later, David Cook wisely recanted his statement. In a March 17-23 issue of TV Guide, he said, “I legitimately feel bad because I offended him. … I think it slipped my mind that if we didn’t need the [judges’] criticism, we’d all already be huge.”

In life, we will be criticized. Since no one is perfect, a lot of those criticisms – like Simon’s – will be correct. We would do well to listen to them and profit from it, rather than denying that we have flaws to correct.

Thank you, David Cook … for listening.

“Why doesn’t he ever kiss her?” my wife asked. We were watching “Premonition”, a thriller in which a normal housewife, Linda Hanson (Sandra Bullock), fears she’s losing her mind when she learns that her husband, Jim (Julian McMahon), has died, only to find him home alive the next morning. But the scene we were watching wasn’t that spooky, really. It was just a mom and dad and their two girls having breakfast before the start of dad’s work day.
But he didn’t kiss her.
I told Nicki that I think that’s probably normal for a lot of couples. She found that hard to believe. Really, I can’t know how most couples show affection, or if and when they show affection. A few years ago, a speaker at our church mentioned that he never leaves the house without first praying for his wife. Since then, I’ve prayed for my wife every day before I leave for work.
We also compliment each other, encouraging one another in our personal endeavors, and asking how the other person’s day went. We thank one another for the small but important tasks done each day – helping put our daughter to bed, picking up laundry, fixing dinner, doing dishes. And we hug and kiss each other every time we have to part, even if it’s just leaving for work like I do every morning. It reminds us both that someone special loves us and cares for us, and will miss us when we’re gone, even for a few mere hours.
The reason Jim didn’t kiss Linda soon becomes apparent. His love for her has grown cold. He’s on the verge of contemplating an affair with a co-worker. Upon discovering this, Linda is less concerned about Jim’s impending demise. She asks her mother, “If I let Jim die, is that the same as killing him?” Her own love has grown cold, as she wonders whether she wants to make an effort anymore.
Once Linda and Jim decide that they’re headed for divorce, she wails to him in the rain, “How did we get here?” It’s a question a lot of couples might ask, when they’ve given up on their marriage. A better question is, “How do we get to the place we want to be?”
A pastor visiting our church said that one of his parishioners told him he no longer loved his wife. “Go home and love her, then,” the pastor answered. The man tried to explain, “I just told you, I don’t love her anymore.” The pastor said, “I know. That’s a good reason to go start loving her again, since you’ve stopped doing it.”
Love isn’t a feeling, that we can fall in and out of, like a puddle of emotional goo. It’s an action, a choice to do something for someone else. Like washing the dishes, if that’s what makes your wife feel loved. Or giving him a compliment, if that’s what makes your husband feel respected. Or sitting and listening attentively, if that’s what makes your spouse feel valued.
It also means putting the other person first. That means sacrificing your time, your activities, and sometimes even your opinion. It took me a long time to learn that some arguments simply aren’t worth fighting about, or even bringing up.
It also means giving up your own “rights”. The “right” to stay angry for what your spouse did. The “right” to have your own space, or your own night out with the gang, leaving your spouse to take care of all the household chores and the kids.
In the end, the wife learns to forgive her husband. She finds, in a very brief time, that she can actually choose to love him again. To forgive his plans for infidelity. To want him in her life again. To move forward, together again.
If you’re ready to give up, remember that you can restore a lot of what’s been lost by changing direction. Whatever you’ve been doing yourself to pull away from your spouse, turn around and start pulling closer.
Marriage is a decision to walk together with the one you love. No matter what comes. Whatever has come between you, you can push it out of your way and come together again, one step at a time.

Check out Premonition at amazon.com!