Lego My Brain

One of the advantages of raising both a boy and a girl is that you get to see the inner workings of both types of brains – as well as how their personalities diverge. Not that they always divide along party lines – there are still days when I can't tell their "Mooooooommmmmmm!" shouts apart. But there are some distinct differences that add an interesting element to the parenting of them.

My 6-year-old son Jack's quirks and desires have had a chance to rise above the usual backseat din this week, with his sister off fulfilling her dramatic needs at a performing arts sleepaway camp. To reward his gracious attitude at having to endure the prep as well as the two-hour drive into the mountains, we decided to fulfill his wildest dreams by turning him loose upon that nirvana for the youngsters of his mindset: LEGOLAND California. And he was definitely among his own kind.

Yes, I know. It's a theme park that both boys and girls love and appreciate. I know I enjoy it, even as a grownup girl with limited engineering skills and very little desire to build things out of plastic blocks.

But I find it entertaining to sit back and watch how those little blocks click right into a young boy's cerebral synapses. They look at the Statue of Liberty in Miniland USA and immediately start reassembling it in their mind's eye. The rides – tame by most SoCal theme park standards – seem almost secondary to the Hero Factory, DUPLO Play and Build and Test areas of the park.

Jack spent more than an hour in the Build and Test room, where he received a set of wheels and was instructed to build a car and race it against other kids' creations. Jack would construct, watch his car's performance on the track and then take it back to the assembly area for modification. Yes, it's nerdy. But these are the equivalent of roller coasters for the brain – and I felt as though he was building skills that he might use at some point in his life.

A similar nerdy "force" could be felt at the new Star Wars Area at Miniland USA. I've tried to resist the Dark Side, but now that I've watched all the movies through Jack's eyes, I can appreciate the Wookiees and Ewoks and tauntauns (I feel a little nerdy even typing those words). And to see those iconic scenes in tiny LEGO form was captivating. The Hoth scene (with its collapsing AT-ATs) from Episode V was my favorite. OK, I'll stop now.

We escaped geekdom to immerse ourselves in the undersea world at the adjacent SeaLife Aquarium. Amid the tunnels of ocean life, I had a strong urge to stretch out and stare up at the rays, sharks and colorful fish as they swam over me. While the creatures aren't necessarily exotic (jellies, sea horses and octupi) or abundant, the vibe was immersive and educational. Jack liked the touch pools; I liked the hammerhead.

Naturally, the day ended with a stop at the gift shop – a critical final brick in the Legoland experience. Jack found a small kit that contained enough pieces and the instructions to make three modes of transport: a submarine, a speedboat and an airplane.

Sure, it's not Naboo. But someday, perhaps he'll be building something just as grand ...

Ponderosa and My Pa

I first met Little Joe while perched on my parents' yellow and brown carpeting, my face squarely in front of our huge console TV. It was somewhat of a family event, and the trademark "ding dittle ding ding dittle dittle ding dittle ding ding ..." theme song still brings back strong memories of my childhood – and a special time with my own "Pa."

My dad loved all things Cowboy, and Bonanza's Pa, Adam, Hoss and Little Joe (portrayed by Lorne Greene, Pernell Roberts, Dan Blocker and Michael Landon) at times seemed like part of our extended family – although without all the untimely deaths of the female members of the clan, thankfully.

My connection to the imaginary patriarch and his brood deepened when I moved within miles of the mythical ranch, which, according to the burning map, sprawled across some pretty prime real estate on the edge of the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe. I visited the tourist version of the ranch near Incline Village, Nev., where I partook in the coldest pancake breakfast I've ever experienced and got to see a replica of the house, complete with the Cartwrights' jackets and hats hanging on the hooks near the entrance.

I plan to pay homage to my dad's memory by trekking over to the Autry National Center's Imagination Gallery, where the hand-drawn Ponderosa Ranch map is now on display (although I hope it doesn't catch fire while I'm there). The map belonged to series creator David Dortort, who died in 2010, and was donated by the Dortort family. I also plan to check out the museums display of scripts, correspondence, photos and other memorabilia from the classic series, which ran from 1959 to 1973. (This might be a good time for me to add that we often watched the show in syndication...)

Happy Father's Day, Dad – here's hoping you can see the Ponderosa from wherever you are.

And in case you're a young 'un or need a refresher, here's the theme song, which will probably stay in your head for the rest of the day:

Winning Wings

"I want to be a biologist." That was my steadfast answer as a child to the constant questioning by adults regarding my future career plans. To help me along my career path, my dad helped me fashion a butterfly catcher out of discarded netting and an old stick from his workshop. It was clunky and homemade-looking, but it did the trick. I won more than my fair share of ribbons at our little county fair with my butterfly collection.

I didn't land a job as a scientist (that dream ended abruptly after that first organic chem test in college), but I remain fascinated by all the colorful and moving parts of nature. Butterflies, with their ostentatious displays of burnt oranges and irridescent blues, still fill me with the urge to jump out of my lawn chair and chase them like a 6-year-old through the yard.

The folks at St. Regis Monarch Beach Resort, a AAA Five-Diamond chill-out haven on the coast just north of Dana Point, agree with me that butterflies possess an almost mystical fascination, and when in large numbers, are even more irrepressable.

Every Saturday evening from Memorial Day through Labor Day, the resort hosts a Butterfly Ritual with pomp and circumstance worthy of their royal moniker. A white-gloved St. Regis Butterfly Butler leads a procession through the lobby to the ocean view terrace, where he offers a toast (champagne for grownups and sparkling cider for kiddos) and shares the legend that if "you whisper your wish to the butterfly, your wish is kept secret from all but the spirits who listen and attend to our dreams."

The kids love it, and the butler makes sure all youngsters get to whisper their wishes and release a monarch.

The Grahams checked it out last summer, and as the monarchs spread their amber wings and flitted into the sunset in search of nectar and mates, I gave a toast to the butterflies of my past. We each whispered our wishes and then wandered down to the resort's fire pits in the resort's expansive lawn for story time and s'mores.

For visitors wishing for a restful, indulgent stay, you don't have to rely on the butterflies to make it come true. Room rates start at $675 per night, but families – many of whom are from California – follow the butterflies for the chance to relax amid the Mediterranean vibe and enjoy family-oriented activities.

We had our own wishes granted – I got a massage, and the resort's private beach club set us up with chairs and drinks while the kids played for hours in the surf, making friends and filling their bathing suits with sand. I had the option of yoga, live music at sunset, pool time, golf or tennis or a cardio beach workout (who are we kidding?).

But I chose to chase the butterflies in my memory, as I watched their wings fade into the sky, making their own wishes come true.

Daddy's Little Dragon Warrior

If dads were as sappy and sentimental as moms, I'd tell them to have tissues handy if they're going to see Kung Fu Panda 2.

At the very least, be prepared for a slight lump in the throat for this father-son story that, while it features some amazing animated Furious Five action, pierces right to the heart of the love and pride that a dad can feel for his offspring. I'm not exaggerating when I say that the look of love that Mr. Ping, Po's dad, lavishes upon his infant panda son is nothing short of the most beautiful and pure portrayal ever animated.

My two kids and I were beguiled by the nostalgic animation style and 3-D kung fu chops and acrobatics, but ultimately, it came down to Po's search for inner peace – and how he found it – that struck the right chords with me.

Sentimentality aside, moviegoers of all ages will find big action – and an even bigger version of Po on display at the ArcLight Cinemas in Hollywood on Sunset. Dreamworks Animation and the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade got together to create a 42-foot tall Kung Fu Panda helium balloon, which will be on display 6 a.m.-9 a.m. on May 26 in front of the theaters. And be sure to check out the kung fu demos and traditional lion dance. Now that's the awesomest.

Taste Test

Flash back, oh, about 30 years ago or so, to a time of food trays with dividers designed to keep your Sloppy Joe separated from your fruit cocktail. The cafeteria ladies wore hair nets and peered menacingly through cat's eye glasses on long chains as they scooped up their culinary punishment with giant ladles.

Cinnamon Roll Day was legendary, Pizza Day was tolerable and Beef Stew Day was, well, I don't think I have to tell you. My school cafeteria experience was filled with weird smells and despite being labeled in my youth as a "picky eater," I don't think even the strongest of constitutions could've withstood some of the things that were heaped upon on those lime-green trays. On the plus side, we had a full "kitchen" and plenty of time to try to chortle down those meals. My best friend often shared her carrot sticks, and on those glorious days when my mom made my lunch, I had Oreos for all.

Do today's kids have it better or worse when it comes to the cafeteria? After reading "Food Fight" in the June issue of L.A. Parent about how chef cum reality star Jamie Oliver went head-to-head with the goliath that is the Los Angeles Unified School District, I was compelled to test out my kids' LAUSD school dining options for myself. The challenges facing the district are many, and despite getting vilified in the press, its food-service officials are trying to spice up (pun intended) and improve the menus.

Admittedly, Jack was stupefied by the sight of his mom at school in the middle of the day, but he humored me. The cafeteria lady had about the same temperament as I remembered from my youth. However, I immediately noticed a key difference: no melamine tray. Jack's school is one of many in the district that doesn't have a full kitchen, so meals are brought in ready to eat. Jack selected the grilled cheese and plopped it out of its baggie. I chose the lasagna, and peeled back the plastic sheet covering it. To my surprise I didn't have to suppress my gag reflex as I so often did during my own first-grade lunch break. And while I'm a considerably less picky eater as an adult, the lasagna was ... good! The grilled cheese wasn't bad, either.

While Jamie Oliver most certainly could've prepared a tastier version, I couldn't complain. And the meal came with a perfectly ripened banana and a little bag of shelled edamame. But here's where Jamie Oliver has a very legitimate axe to grind: the dreaded flavored milk. Even as a fairly disciplined adult, I couldn't turn down the chocolate milk (what am I, 6?). I wanted to go with "plain," but I just couldn't. It was too alluring, with its brown lettering and chocolatey promises. And not a drop of water in sight.

Jack had only a short time to eat and play, so he skipped the banana, gave me a quick hug, and ran off to play with his friends. I looked down at his crusts and my empty tomato sauce-stained paper boat. Sure, it might not be organic, locally sourced, freshly prepared gourmet cuisine, but it was edible, which is more than I can say for the cafeteria of my youth.

I have no doubt Jamie could make some amazing changes in our schools' cafeterias, and I applaud his mission to bring the concept of real food to America's youth. And it's a good reminder that we parents must stay diligent about the food our children consume. And if we can't control everything in the cafeteria, at least we can teach them that there's nothing better than a meal made from fresh ingredients by your own two hands (even if I tend to burn stuff).

And while I still feel a twinge of guilt on those days when I just don't feel like packing Jack's lunch, at least I know I'm not subjecting him to Beef Stew Day.