Words that feel good in the mouth II

Occipital. Bonnie Hunt used it on her cancelled show last year when she referred to her "occipital Rolodex."

Supple. This one struck me while listening to Neil Finn's "The Truth" ... "Remember what we are/ Supple and new."

Bump. It's been around for awhile, but I really like it in connection with the pitcher's mound in baseball. "The Cubs play the Diamondbacks tonight with Les Walrond on the bump." Believe me, it's a lot more effective if you've ever heard of the pitcher. But the Cubs don't have any of those anymore.

Alacrity. Sen. Charles Schumer: "Why aren't we moving with alacrity" when installing the new security system that will scan cargo bins for nuclear content?

Grok. This word is ... what, 30 years old now? A gift from Robert Heinlein, and still more useful to me than other words that seem trendy. This one stuck for me, and I'm surprised it hasn't been more universally accepted. Perhaps the universe hasn't grokked it yet.

Fracture. It almost hurts to even hear the word, doesn't it? That's because it contains the sound of cracking bone.

Does George Carlin have kids?

Too bad if he doesn't. With philosophies like this, he'd be a kick-ass parent.

What kind of empty people need to validate themselves through the achievements of their children?... Here's a bumper sitkcer I'd like to see: "WE ARE THE PROUD PARENTS OF A CHILD WHOSE SELF-ESTEEM IS SUFFICIENT THAT HE DOESN'T NEED US PROMOTING HIS MINOR SCHOLASTIC ACHIEVEMENTS ON THE BACK OF OUR CAR."

Squishy entry, but deal with it, it's my birthday.

Dads are so easy.

I'm in the shower this morning. I'm not awake yet, though the hot water hitting the back of my neck is doing its work. Through the frosted glass of the shower, I see the bathroom door open. This is highly unusual. Laura never gets out of bed until she has to.

But she apparently did have to: Someone wanted access to me.

Laura cracks the shower door, and says, "Someone wants to say something."

I see the tousled blonde hair behind her, at waist height. I bend over.

She is beaming. The glee in her face -- her entire body -- is all because of the message that she is practically shaking to give me. And she delivers it with a devastating smile:

"Happy birthday, Daddy!"

"Thank you, sweetie."

And she whirls around and returns to the bedroom to snuggle with Mom for a few minutes. Laura and I exchange sleepy smiles before she leaves.

Shortly, dried and getting dressed, I approach Piper, who sits up in bed. She repeats her salutations.

"Honey," I tell her with a hug, "if no one mentions my birthday for the rest of the day, this will still be a great day, after that greeting."

It's not bad to be reminded -- not just on your birthday but on a daily basis -- how important the moments that have become innocuous to us as adults are still as thrilling as a roller-coaster ride to some younger than us. It's not bad to be reminded that we should strive to recapture that thrill of the mundane of another birthday. I've had 41 of them. It doesn't mean I shouldn't remember the thrill of my fourth.