Plastic Man

As we made our way home from The Y one evening, this was the conversation that sprang out of thin air from the back seat.  I use the word conversation because, in spite of the fact that you know as much about it as I do, there is clearly a significant portion missing.

"Remember, Ethan?  His butt slurped in." 

There immediately commenced great laughter and repetition of this sentence.  Never before have I experienced such a conflict of feelings and emotions.

• Fascination - What on earth could this be about?
• Excitement - What on earth could this be about?
• Nausea - What on earth could this be about?
• Sadness - Where did I go wrong?
• Concern - Is it too late for the third boy?
• Distress- What if I don't ask and wish I had when one of their teachers calls later?
• Fear - What if I ask and they actually tell me?

- 3 November 2011

Conversational Tactics

There's something to be said for a person who is proud of who they have become.  Indeed, variety and diversity are the spices of life.  I wonder, however, if a five-year-old really knows.  My five-year-old certainly felt that he had put his finger right on the pulse.

During a routine visit from the Schwan's man, I left Justin at the front door while I went to fetch my checkbook.  I returned to find Justin leaving the room and the man at the door in stitches.  When I gave him a quizzical look (being thankful that he had been laughing instead of crying) he said,

"Your son asked me if I liked my job and then told me that, 'Sometimes my parents have a hard time handling me.'"

You don't know the half of it.

- 26 May 2006

Quarter to Three

I believe it was Ray Romano who said, "having children is like living in a frat house - nobody sleeps, everything's broken and there's a lot of throwing up."

2:45 AM

From the next room came the unexpected sound of spaghetti.  That is to say a spontaneous re-analyzation of caloric intake...vomit.

"Hang on I'm coming!" I said as I leaped out of bed, sprinted into the next room and vaulted over the sleeping child on the air mattress.  "Oh, sweetheart, it'll be alright."

"Okay," Logan said as he proceeded to hose down the remaining vomit-free portions of his bed.

I remember being struck by the lack of crying, tears and general dissent from his two older brothers.  The entire morning had just unraveled and I was up to my elbows in...well, let's just say, it was very unsanitary.  Instead, the room had an air polite interest.

"Hey, Dad," Ethan called down from the upper bunk as if he had been waiting all night for me to arrive and could now, finally, strike up a conversation.

Really?  Now?  I glanced down at the mattress to see Justin, looking back, wide awake as though he too were ready to join in the discussion.

"What did Logan eat for dinner?" Ethan asked.

Have a look for yourself.

"The same thing as everyone else," I said, trying to concentrate on the newly formulated clean-up plan.

"I've never smelled spaghetti like that before."

Thank you, Ethan. 

- 28 December 2011

Colorful Thoughts

As is typical for meal times, dinner in particular, the conversation was wending towards bathroom humor.  This is strictly forbidden at the table.  Frequent...typical...but strictly forbidden.  Despite our best combined efforts to impart a little dignity to our family discussions and further the advancement of manners, little boys simply cannot resist.  So much so, that it has almost turned into a game where the contestants compete to see who can get the largest portion of their story verbalized before I come completely unglued.  Fun.

It should also be noted that we are engaged in the seemingly endless process of teaching the boys to filter the things they say before they speak.  They are, after all, my sons.  Consequently, there appears to be little hope.

"Don't finish that thought, Ethan," I warned, as he vaulted toward lavatory levity.

Luckily this statement effected the desired pause...at least, from Ethan.

"I'm going to say it again, Ethan," Ashley reminded him.  "Not all thoughts are golden."

"Yeah, some are brown," Justin chimed in.

Gross.  Thanks for that.

- 20 December 2011

Bless This Food

When you're three and there is food on the table in front of you, it is time to eat!  The ridiculous notion of continuing to wait while the food sits plaintively, begging to be consumed is utter madness.  What's even more ridiculous is prolonging the apparent fast so that the family can say grace.  Preposterous!  Justin was having none of it and began to proclaim his disapproval of the situation.

As anyone in our family can tell you, the more noise you make in opposition of something, the more likely you are to assume it's responsibility...personally.

"Justin, will you please say grace?" I directed.

Compliance was not an option and I fully expected to hear him recite the only blessing he knew..."for every cup and plateful, may the Lord make us truly grateful."  I was momentarily fixed with a look of deepest loathing.  At least as deep as a three-year-old could manage.  With a scowl on his face, he began to recite the prayer.

"For every cup and plate-empty..."

- 25 August 2004

Christmas Crackers

Our beautiful Christmas Eve dinner began with the 19th century English tradition of Christmas crackers.  By a simple coincidence, or a clear demonstration that God does, in fact, have a sense of humor, all of the children received noise making toys in their crackers.  Among the prizes were a harmonica, a kazoo and a toy clacker.

The clacker fell into the capable hands of my oldest son, Justin, who immediately demonstrated his obnoxious proficiency.  Ethan's kazoo virtuosity resembled that of a tormented bovine and I was certain that a call from the ASPCA was imminent.  Logan's cracker contained the little yellow harmonica, hereafter referred to as the "canoe."  Logan had not previously encountered a harmonica and failed to grasp the subtle differences between that and its agony inducing counterpart, the kazoo (pronounced "canoe" in the three-year-old dialect).

The only reasonable way to describe this loathsome yellow mouth harp is insidious, in much the same way you would describe the Chinese Water Torture.  Move over Fu Manchu.  The first five minutes were not unpleasant in the least.  Eventually, the little yellow menace was removed from the dinner table so that the family could enjoy it's food without fear of atonally induced indigestion.  Our best efforts notwithstanding, we were unsuccessful at thwarting the return of the "canoe" to the boy.  Like a pig to a truffle, he located it, with apparent ease, no matter where it had been hidden and resumed his heinous recital until the occupants of the house had been driven to the point of madness and it was promptly removed and re-hidden.  This exercise continued until the boys were put to bed.

Christmas morning dawned, apparently canoe-free.  It wasn't until breakfast had been announced and we had been seated at the table that the canoe made it's presence known.  One note was all it took before Ashley seized the harmonica from the unsuspecting boy and hurled it into the adjoining room where it came to rest in a potted plant.

"Momma, why did you do that?" Logan asked.

"Yeah Mom, why did you do that?" Justin asked, with every ounce of cheek he could muster.

Sparing Ashley the burden of having to reply, I took up the slack.

"She made a mistake, Justin.  She was reaching for Logan and grabbed the harmonica by accident."

- 25 December 2011

Communion Whine

"Will you never learn?"

This is a question that I have been asking myself nearly all of my life but never more so than over the past eleven years.  The answer, I'm afraid, is a resounding, "no."  If it were anything else, all that would be left to write about are the silly things that my wife and I do and say.  That, however, is an entirely separate, equally nutty and far lengthier blog.  We'll talk about that later.

You have heard me talk before about my age in Parenting Years.  I am twenty-two.  In that amount of time, it is easy to get the feeling that you have heard just about everything.  Even if you are talented enough to recognize this delusion for what it is, you would certainly be easily persuaded that there is nothing more your children could do or say that would surprise you.  You would be wrong on both counts.

Case in point: Christmas Eve 2011

It all started when we piled into the van and headed off toward church.  Two blocks from the house I heard Justin say,

"Don't put that on your tongue, Ethan.  It's disgusting.  It looks like a real eyeball."

That was my oldest son, whose primary focus in life centers around trying to disgust people.  Right away I wondered what could be going on.  Another two blocks.  Now Ethan was turning the light on and off attempting to find the mystery object that had dislodged from his tongue and disappeared into the folds of the seat cushion beside him.

"Oh no, I lost it.  Grandma's going to be mad."

"There are a hundred more back at the house," Justin assured him.

Now I had to know.

"Lost what, Ethan?" I inquired, desperately searching for an answer before it was uttered.

"A plastic grape," came the reply.

Hmm.  I did not see that coming.  Suffice it to say, I don't think Grandma will want it back even if you do happen to locate it's slobbery whereabouts.  Let's just turn the remaining bunch over in the fruit bowl when we get home and hope that she will not notice that one is missing.  There was only one, right?

Looking back on it all, I find it odd that any portion of my life surprises me.  It's difficult and complex.  It's a noise-filled, sticky, just-sat-on-someone's-half-eaten-lolly-pop roller coaster ride and someone just threw up on my shoe.  But it's my life and I love it...even if I do, occasionally, want to lay myself across the tracks.

On some level, tonight was as unpredictable as ever and there was no way to foresee any of the events, even as they unfolded.  On another level, none of it surprised me.  Keep in mind that we hadn't even arrived at church yet, let alone gained entry.  Before we had even mounted the steps, there came forth the following sentences from my lips.

• "Please do not continue to defile Grandma's fake fruit arrangements."
• "Please take your hand out of your pants before we go into the church and, next time, make sure your underwear is on correctly before we leave the house."
• "Yes, yes, I heard you but no more bazooka talk."

Once we were safely ensconced within the church...

• "No, you can't go now, you'll have to hold it.  We're about to go up for Communion.  Also, stop doing that dance, people are trying to pray."

Now I'm going to pray.  This evening is not over and I can only imagine what lies in wait for me at home.

- 24 December 2011

Let Me Set the Scene

Picture it.  Christmas Eve 2007.

A family of four sits quietly in a beautiful stone church.  Aged wooden pews spread out beneath the great vaulted ceiling.  Hand-carved wooden beams, adorned with evergreen garlands and golden lights, arc overhead.  The gentle glow of candle light and delicate scent of pine bring about a calming sense of peace, harmony and goodwill.  Children and adults alike sit in silent wonder, absorbing the beauty of their surroundings and the meaning of the holiday.

I feel my son lean in and, out of the corner of my eye, see him cup his hand to his mouth.  In a stage whisper I hear,

"When does Jesus get here?"

- 24 December 2007

Merry Christmas

While working in the kitchen, Ashley burned herself and swore.  Ethan leaned over and said,

"Dad, it sounds more like a sweary Christmas."

- 25 December 2009

Uh Oh!

Since I walked through the door for lunch 33 minutes ago, Logan has been, what can only be described as, tormenting me with endless and repeating questions.  Indeed, Ashley had a generally harassed look about her and promptly announced that it was "your turn" as she left the room in search of solitude.  Once the paraphrased questioning had looped around for eighth time, I stopped listening.  That was 31 minutes ago.  I did not, however, stop answering and I suspect that this may have been a mistake.

Twenty-two parenting years tells me that, in order to break him of this habit, I need to tell him that he already knows the answer to that question and absolutely refuse to answer it again.  I think a review of my notes is in order.

Somewhere between taking sandwich and drink orders, lunch-time conversation and the general noise of the late morning I had shifted focus.  Alright, fine...I had lost focus altogether.  Logan continued his relentless question asking while I hoovered around the edges of the "conversation," paying just enough attention to provide only ambiguous and non-committing answers.  I was only vaguely aware that Logan had relocated to the basement and was now pursuing his endeavor by shouting his questions up the staircase.

When the interrogation came to a sudden end, I was momentarily alarmed.  What just happened?  The last thing I remember was hearing Logan say,

"Okay, Dad?  Okay??"

"O-ka-y," I replied.

"Yeah!  Thank you," he squealed.

Then there was clapping.  Then there was silence.

That can't be good.

Ashley, I would like to apologize in advance if I inadvertently gave him permission to: use the washing machine as a rock polisher; use the vacuum cleaner as a wind tunnel apparatus; find out if the oscillating feature of the space heater is really as much fun as a carnival ride.  Let me know...I'll be back at five.

- 22 December 2011

Roget...You Missed One

My youngest son cannot remember the name for The Grinch.  Instead, he has taken to calling it,

"The Grumpy Green Thing Taked Christmas."

I love how a three-year-old can capture the essence of a word so completely.  On average, there are five synonyms for the word "Grinch" in the thesaurus.  So far as I know, "grumpy green thing" is not among them...I checked.

- 31 August 2011

Broken Record

One of the boys' favorite games to play is called Little Old Man.  After rummaging through our bedroom closet and locating the cane I used while recovering from back surgery, they go thumping through the house hunched over and talking in silly voices.  A thousand times they have been told not to take the cane out of the closet.  Inevitably, however, it finds it's way to the top of the stairs where it waits, along side the cat, to trip the first passer by.  When it is not waiting in joyful hope of a sprained ankle or broken leg, it occupies itself by making indentations along the walls or against any unsuspecting piece of furniture. 

This evening, while fishing around for a pair of matching socks, I watched as Logan came bouncing into the bedroom and made a beeline for the closet.  It took two and a half seconds for him to locate the cane which he immediately began to thump up and down on the wooden floor as he ran around the room.  I am, as yet, still undecided about which was more ridiculous...the deafening racket or the comically mischievous smirk on his face. 

"Logan..." I shouted, with every intention of finishing my thought.

"Put it back now.  Logan, put it back now," he shrieked, emphasizing every word with a blow to the floor. 

He fixed me with a wide-eyed grin that told me he had my number.  Then, with a peel of maniacal laughter, he lobbed the cane back into the closet and scampered out of the room.

I see you remember that we've talked about this before.

- 20 December 2011

A Mind of Its Own

After waking up dry in regular underpants, my son offered this explanation.

"Maybe the pee noticed that it couldn't go in my undies...it has a brain also, you know."

- 7 October 2008

Age Appropriate

Justin has never been one to take admonishment well.  Indeed, there is usually an excuse, retort or redirect ready for immediate deployment.  When I had finished one such scolding I was met with a truly exasperated sigh.

"We'll have to discuss this when I'm older," he said, shaking his head.

Will five be old enough?  That will buy you almost three additional months.

- 30 August 2005

The Heart of the Matter

After listening to Ethan recount the day's activities in music class, I marveled at the differences and advances in technology since the time I was in school.  Ethan, however, was not to be deterred and brought the conversation right back around to what mattered most in his world.

"We never had a computer in music class when I was in Kindergarten," I said.

"You mean at my school?" he asked in amazement.

"No, I went to a school called Hamblen," I replied.

"Did they have any hot dogs there?"

- 16 January 2009

Um, Logan Has a Question

As we left Shopko and made our way to the car, Logan decided to fill in a few of the blanks in his mental notes.

"Mom?  Remember when those guys came to put Justin in jail?  Was that 1,000 years ago?"

Justin?  Your 11-year-old brother?  Wow!  I really need to start paying more attention at home.  Listen, I know you're only three and have no concept of time but if any one of those questions makes sense to anybody within earshot then I have a few additional questions myself.

No sweetie, it was only 957 years ago...in a parallel universe.

- 14 December 2011

Forever is a Long Time

While out on an errand, the subject of heaven was brought up.  Questions included, "where is heaven" and "how do you get there?"  Apparently, there was no misunderstanding about the requirements to gain entry, but rather, how to avoid getting lost on the way.  No, really...Google Maps, please.  Once any lingering doubts had been resolved, Ethan piped up.

"I want to go to heaven," he said.

Suddenly, we were joined by the spirit of Ralphie Parker from A Christmas Story, describing his Red Ryder BB Gun.

"In heaven you can do whatever you want," Justin said dreamily.  The glazed look of wonderment and awe was evident even from the dark back seat.

"Really?" Ethan gasped.  The air of excitement suggested that he had nearly peed at this news.

"Well," replied Justin, "you're gonna be up there forever.  You have to be able to do something forever."

- 14 December 2011

Amazing Grace

When we visit Grandma and Grandpa, it is not unusual to go out to breakfast after mass on Sunday morning.  For some reason, Ethan was nearly in a panic because he thought we were going to say grace in the restaurant.

"We're not going to say grace!" he declared.

Ashley was unruffled.

"Well, maybe you can just say it in your head," she suggested.

There was a pause while he deliberated this proposal.  No dice!

"I'm just going to sing B-I-N-G-O."

- 30 October 2008

Kitty Capers

After getting in trouble for lying about eating the last muffin, Logan was told to go apologize to Dad.  I heard him come running down the hall and face plant on the carpet.  It didn't take much imagination to picture the substantial feline girth over which he had tripped.  I myself have also had this unfortunate experience but I've usually got my arms full and the beast is parked across the second step from the top.  Did I mention that it is also usually dark, the cat is black and it's far too late to do anything about once I've realized that there is no squishy step?  But I digress. 

There was a small commotion while he recovered and continued down the hall.

"The kitty just runned me down!"

So much for the apology.

"Did he now?" I said.

Now let me see if I understand.  Oliver was lying in the hallway, albeit like a giant sideways log, but minding his own business, nevertheless.  You came along, performed a belly flop, mashed him into the carpet...and he ran you down?  Interesting.  Apparently my sense of indignation toward the kitty criminal was not striking the appropriate chord.  Logan didn't wait for me to come to my senses and immediately left in search of a sympathetic soul.

"Mom, the kitty just runned me down!"

"I'm sorry sweetie, he's kind of a dumb kitty," she said.

Too true, however, this was not the consolation that was being sought.  The fact remained that justice had yet to be served.  Did you forget that Mommy was the one who sent you to apologize in the first place?

"Say, no, no kitty," he commanded.

Uh-huh.  Nice try.

"You just don't want to be the only one in trouble," she said.

- 11 December 2011

Three Minutes

As I was fishing out boxes of Christmas decorations from underneath the stairs, Logan came whizzing past me with both arms full of something.

"Daddy, set the timer for three minutes, okay?"

"Sure.  What for?" I asked.

"The guys pushed me while I was spinning," he said as he mounted the stairs and continued mumbling.

Oh brother.  Can't you and your brothers get along for two minutes in a row?  Wait a minute!  He refers to his older brothers as "the boys," not "the guys."  And three minutes is his time-out allotment.  I have no idea what's going on.

"What guys?  What's going on?"

"These guys are in trouble and they have to sit on the rug," he said, indicating his payload.

Gotcha!  I'm sure I don't even want to know but at least I'm back on track.

"Okay, I'll set the timer," I hollered at the back of his head as he disappeared up the stairs.

I never did set the timer and he never asked me about it.  A half hour later I walked past the "naughty mat", also known as "the rug," and there were four of his stuffed animals and a wind-up hopping Easter egg toy serving out their punishment.  It's a sad day when you have to put your own stuffed animals in time-out.

- 11 December 2011

Extra Special

As we sat in the church on Christmas Eve, waiting for mass to begin, we started talking about how God made people special.

"God must have made Santa extra special," said Justin.

- 24 December 2007

Stupid Cat Food Games

How can you tell which cat bowl has water in it?  Any one-year-old could tell you.

1. Mash handful of dry food into bowl.
2. Hand knead.
3. Insert face.
4. Repeat process until face comes out wet...and breaded.

Clean-up is also a snap!  Wash hands in newly discovered water.  Lick to rinse.

- 21 May 2010

Dear Hanes

Dear Hanes,

A request.  Please create a new line of toddler briefs.  They should be yellow with black trim bearing the warning, "Caution - Floors may be slippery when wet."  It would save me a lot of time and greatly increase public safety.  Matching undershirts would also be welcome.

Many Thanks,
Father of Three

Whew, I Passed

"Dad, what's it called when the show will be right back?" Ethan asked.

There was a moment's pause while I tried to decide what we were talking about and my wife looked at him like he had three heads.

"A commercial?" I ventured.

"Oh, yeah."

- 9 October 2008

Hineysight is 20/20

Logan is fully potty trained but still requires assistance with certain lavatory maneuvers.  Yesterday, Ashley found herself called into service as Logan tried to negotiate an unfamiliar toilet at school.  As she bent over to attend to the trousers and toilet seat, her glasses made a bid for freedom.

As, like a rim shot at the final buzzer, the glasses circled the lip of the bowl, there formed the most quizzical look on Logan's face.

Splash.

"Momma, why are you puttin' your glasses in the potty?  Why don't you put them on your face?"

Translation: I know you're old and I'm only three, but I have seen this before and that isn't how it works!

"I don't know, Logan.  I just don't know," she replied.

I must say, that was the best phone call received to date.  In future, however, I may choose a better spot to insert my uncontrollable hysterical laughter.  It was not well received.  Ashley, a word of advice - lanyard.

- 6 December 2011

The Plastic Menagerie

Logan adores bath time.  His collection of "special dinosaurs" has an exclusive place in his heart and a permanent residence next to the tub.  While he and his plastic menagerie play in the bathtub each night, I usually sit on the floor and check Facebook.  Do not judge me.  It's the only time of day when I am not being assaulted with questions or fielding demands.  I love those ten minutes. 

Lately, Logan has taken up the science of the bathroom.  More specifically, experiments to find out what his voice will sound like in a variety of different settings.

• Hands over ears, talking.
• Hands over ears, screaming.
• Ears covered, head under water, singing, talking, screaming and farting. 

Yes, I know...it's not pretty.

This night, in particular, Logan was lying flat on his back, head half submerged, ears plugged.  He lay quietly, holding very still, while the bath toys floated serenely over top of him.  It was almost peaceful.

"Get away from my winkie!" he suddenly screamed at them.

I nearly dropped my phone into the tub.

- 21 October 2011

An Elite Group

Ethan, speaking to his mother.

"You're the greatest person in the world...and so is Santa."

- 8 August 2008

Well, You Got Me There

Ashley had just purchased a pair of new, black dress shoes that Justin was required to wear for his upcoming orchestra concert.  Even as I write this post, I am still not sure whether his feet were rebelling against the shoes or the shoes were trying to eat his feet.  Suffice it to say, there was an issue.  Justin was having an absolute conniption.  I stood across the room watching the fit unfold before me and there was really only one word to describe it.  Comical.

"I've never seen anybody get so bent out of shape over the weirdest and dumbest things," I said, chuckling.  

He threw the shoes to the floor with an outburst of screaming rage.  Complete with flailing arms gestures directed at my wife, his retort was immediate.

"Eh, you see Mom all day!"

Touche!

- 29 November 2011

Just Desserts

Having just sat through a rather long orchestra concert, Ethan was not pleased about being forced to shower before dessert.  Reluctantly, he gave in and bathed.  When Ashley came into the kitchen a few minutes later she found Ethan standing at the stove, dripping wet and eating a bowl of whipped cream...buck naked.

"Ethan!" she exclaimed.

"What?  It's just a small bowl!"

- 1 December 2011

Orchestra Concert

Tonight was the Fifth Grade Orchestra Concert.  That is to say that it was a concert of band, orchestra and choir, grades five through eight but I have a fifth grader so it was the Fifth Grade Orchestra Concert. 

My wife and I were so proud.  Justin and the others dressed in shirts and ties and polished black shoes hardly able to breathe from nerves, playing their hearts out.

Seven-thirty sharp.  Three songs, all recognizable without having to consult the program.  Fifteen minutes and we were finished.  Except...we weren't finished.  Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it wouldn't be that simple.

Having been through this before I knew that the youngest students would perform first (hooray for fifth grade).  However, concert etiquette dictates that you stay until everyone has performed.  So, whether we wanted to leave or not, Justin was there for the duration.  Naturally we wouldn't dream of leaving until the end of the concert in any event, but I must point out that having a bored three and eight-year-old changes the dynamic considerably.

The first 15 minutes were marvelous.  It was the next 60 that tested our mettle.  A dozen plastic dinosaurs, three books and a box of crayons were all that stood between us and certain disaster.  And what idiot picked seats in the very front row?

Logan's crayons held his attention for quite some time, certainly longer than I expected, but I could sense a mounting frustration with the box at large.  With each passing minute  I prayed a little harder.

"Dear God, please let the blue crayon come to it's senses and cooperate with the boy.  I would really like to avoid a repeat of last night's reconciliation debacle."

My inattention was momentarily interrupted when my wife leaned over and asked,

"Why is Ethan coloring so loudly?"

What?  How is that possible?  What does that even mean?  Sure enough, over the sound of the sixth grade band, I could hear him three seats away...coloring.  Only Ethan could make a crayon loud.

The coup de grace came when I heard simultaneous exclamations from Logan and my wife.

"Why is he wet?"

"I had a little accident."

Hmm.  I just thought you were enjoying the music.  Clearly, I misinterpreted your dance.

- 1 December 2011

Reconciliation

In preparation for The Sacrament of Reconciliation, my son Ethan has been attending classes for months.  Last night, all of the children and their families gathered at church for the culmination of their lessons.  We sat and listened while the priest spoke of the importance of this sacrament and gave the children their instructions.  While the students formed lines to wait for their first reconciliation, the families were left to their own devices.

The weekly choir practice had just disbanded and the now silent church had an awkward air.  Before taking leave, the choir director also appeared to have noticed the suddenly uncomfortable silence and turned on a CD player.  Now the sound of solemn chanting circulated around the sanctuary.  Monks!

Meanwhile, my three-year-old son was busy coloring in the pew beside us.  When he turned the page of his activity book he found himself staring at a picture of Elmo with something scrawled across it's face.  The words my oldest son had written barely registered in my brain before Logan recognized what they said and his echoing cry reverberated around the room.

"Elmo sucks!"

Oh, heaven help us.

- 30 November 2011

Love Thy Neighbor

There is nothing like being comfortable in your own skin.  Coming down the steps of the church after mass on Sunday, Ethan made this proclamation.

"If we're supposed to love our neighbor as much as our self [sic], then I must love my neighbors a lot!"

Well, at least we know he's paying attention.

- 23 October 2011

The Holy Ghost

I realize that Justin was only approaching his third birthday but, somehow, I couldn't help wondering what we might have been doing wrong where his religious education was concerned.

"He's gonna get bad guys from the ghost?"

Baptized, Justin.  Ethan is being baptized!  And stop referring to the priest as a ghost.

- 5 October 2003

Eat Your Heart Out, Dr. Seuss

"Why are things hot and cold?" he asked.

I didn't even have time to formulate a response let alone draw the breath necessary to utter it.

"Some things are hot all by themselves...and some are not...and worms are slow...and spiders are fast."

Well, Ethan, it's sounds like you've got a handle on things.  I am going to go back to driving now.  Let me know if I can be of any additional assistance...or any in the first place, really.

- 19 November 2006

Bronco Brouhaha

Ethan came to me, slightly distressed, to clear up a lingering doubt.  He and his older brother had been playing "horsey".  For reasons unknown, Ethan was the horse and Justin was the cowboy.  While many of the finer details remain deliberately sketchy, I do know this...they had reigns...made out of string...in the horse's mouth.

"Will the Tooth Fairy still come if Justin yanked it out?"

- 18 June 2008

My Favorite Game - Part 2

After our most recent round of How Long Has It Been? I couldn't resist the temptation to see what would happen if I turned the tables on Ethan.  As we drove to Moscow, ID on a mid-day errand, I threw this question over my shoulder into the back seat.

"Hey, Ethan.  How long has it been?"

Boy, I thought I had him.  Without the slightest hesitation, he replied,

"19 minutes."

Rats!  I couldn't even argue with him because I was certain that, if I had asked, "since what?" he would have said, "well, you didn't tell me."

- 24 November 2011

My Favorite Game

Recently, Ethan has developed a habit of asking the question, "how long has it been?"  Since what, Ethan?  Since the last time you asked?  Since you were born?  Since Tuesday?  Despite the fact that I usually know exactly what he is talking about, he needs to learn how to ask a proper question as it relates to time.

This line of questioning always surrounds the sharing of an electronic device (TV, computer, video game, etc.) with a sibling.  It is manifested by a failure to recognize one's position in the universe as it relates to time and space and is a frequent occurrence.  The actual question being asked is, "how much longer until it's my turn?"  Typically, Ethan knows each person's allotment and can figure out when his turn will be as long as someone can tell him how much time has elapsed since his last turn.  Don't I have enough to keep track of?  That's why I could only shake my head when he came to me this morning.

"Dad, how long has it been since I've been off the computer?"

Just a moment, I'll consult my notes.  Let me see...Thanksgiving day...you're using the computer in the basement...I'm on a different level of the house talking to four other family members...Ah!  Here it is...no idea.

"I don't know, Ethan.  When did you stop?"

"Five minutes ago."

"I'd say its been about five minutes."

"Oh.  Okay."

I wonder if he understood what just happened here.

- 24 November 2011

Not So Hot Lunch

After announcing that we would be switching to cold lunches, I was greeted with this response from my first grader.

"I'm kind of glad we're done with hot lunch.  But I'm kind of not glad because there are all those yummy hot dogs for little boys to eat, like M-E."

Yeah, that's kind of what I was afraid of.

- circa 2009

[Update] And on That Note... [Video]

"What would you like me to sing?" used to be such an innocent and easily answered question.  I have a sizable collection of songs that effortlessly outpaces the boy's determination to remain conscious.  If they can't remember the title, all that is required are a few words or a snippet of the tune and we are back in business.  Logan, however, stood that theory on it's head. 

As you know, I was recently caught off-guard by a request to sing a previously unknown song called Big Monster Snake.  In a slightly bewildering twist, I would come to find out that there are not only words and a tune but hand motions alike.  That's correct...hand motions.

This is a song that has assumed a life of its own.  It has, in fact, been added to our permanent repertoire.  It can be sung by every member of our family, is frequently and spontaneously performed at the dinner table and will most likely be passed down for generations to come. 

Hatched, fully formed, in the mind of a three-year-old, this nine word ditty speaks volumes about the loves of a little boy. 

• Favorite pastime - weekly fires on the back patio.
• Favorite candy - Tic Tacs.
• Favorite food - cauliflower, followed closely by broccoli and green beans.
• Favorite stuffed animal(s) - three monster snakes measuring 15 feet when laid end-to-end.

The first video is difficult to hear but it contains the requisite hand motions.  He is singing quietly because I had just spent the better part of fifteen minutes telling him to lie down and go to sleep.  If he's quiet...maybe I won't notice that he is still awake.

"Fire, Tic Tacs and vege-ta-bles.  Big mon-ster snake...whoa, whoa, whoa."

"Fire, Tic Tacs and vege-ta-bles.  Big mon-ster snake...whoa, whoa, whoa."

- 22 November 2011

Team Ashley

My wife, Ashley, will do just about anything to avoid facing a needle.  One evening, while working in the kitchen, she cut her hand quite seriously.  I knew that there would be no way to spirit her off to the ER for stitches short of clubbing her over the head and dragging her off by her hair.  Certainly the idea had merit, but she was an adult and there was no time to find a club. 

My only other recourse was to give her a hard time with the hope that I would be able to guilt her into going.  The point when I realized I was fighting a losing battle came when my three-year-old shouted,

"You're making my mother crazy!"

Then he pummeled me.

I'll see about that club.

- 18 May 2004

Mandatory Play

As I arrived home for lunch this afternoon, I was greeted by a boisterous salutation emanating from a boy riding up the street on his scooter.

"Dad!  Dad!!  Hi, Dad!" he hollered as he turned into the driveway.

"Hi, Justin.  How has your day been?" I asked.

"I saw you drive past me just now.  You know, over by the church.  You yawned," he informed me.

"That sounds about right," I chuckled.  "I'm glad to see that you're playing outside."

"Mom told me to run around the block two times before I could come back in."

Gee, I'm shocked.

Note the word run in the last statement.  This was a detail which I had failed to translate at the time and was not alerted to until I recounted this incident to my wife.  I believe her exact words were, "What?  He's on his scooter?  I told him to run!"  Oops, sorry Justin.  The aforementioned yawning was not due to general lack of oxygen.

"Did you irritate her?" I asked, expecting the answer - yes.

"No," he stated turning his scooter around. 

I raised my eyebrows.

"I scared Logan."

I lowered my eyebrows. 

Justin began to roll down the driveway and I began to roll my eyes.  As the back of his head disappeared around the corner at the end of the block, I heard him shout.

"Well, technically, yes!"

Punk!

- 21 November 2011

Hey, That's My Line!

It is not difficult to ruffle a five-year-old's feathers.  Some have cultivated the process into an art form.  Others, a sport.  For me, perhaps a little of both.  On this day, in particular, I had managed to tip the scales and Justin rounded on me as I followed him down the hall.  Stopping dead in his tracks and wrinkling his brow he said,

"Look at my face.  Do I look happy?"

No you do not...and I suppose your face is really not enjoying being laughed in.

- 28 August 2006

Starbucks

Occasionally, we travel out of town to do errands that we cannot do at home. The two hour round trip drive takes most of the day but we do our very best to make it enjoyable for all.  However, in order to make these trips worth while, we pack a lot into the itinerary.  Our oldest boys take turns quizzing us about the number of remaining stops and whether or not they will be permitted to stay in the car.  This time, however, it was Logan who took up the torch.

"Are we going to another store?" came his plaintive question.

"Yes," I replied.

"How about Starbucks?" he suggested hopefully.

How did you come to ask that question?

"What could you possibly want to go to Starbucks for? You're three.  How many times have you been to Starbucks?"

"59 years."

That's what I thought.  Between you and your brothers it feels like we've been on this trip for 59 years.

- 30 October 2011

Varying Degrees of Interest

Could it be said that I am interested in everything that my children say?  Yes, in varying degrees.  Does that mean that I sit in silent wonder awaiting the next lexical pearl?  Hardly.  I am rarely permitted time to sit and seldom gifted with silence.

Perhaps this is where I stumbled. 

Had I been listening more attentively I may have been privy to the entire conversation unfolding beneath me.  Instead, it stood my hair on end to hear this statement echo up the stairs from where all three boys were playing in the basement,

"No, Justin!  No!  Nothing lights on fire!"

Remember that Justin!!

- 17 November 2011

Apologies for my Stupidity

Anyone who has met me knows that my sense of humor takes many forms.  Most often it is dry with a sarcastic, and sometimes derisive, edge.  Apparently, I have passed this trait along to my sons.  All three of them.

This morning, my preschooler appeared at the bathroom door while I was brushing my teeth.

"I had a night dream," he said to the floor.

I know this to mean that he had a nightmare.  His face wore a pitiful look that was, undoubtedly, supposed to elicit great concern on my part.

"What was it about?" I asked innocently.

How could I have been so stupid?  Was his meaning unclear?  It was a nightmare, it can't have been good!  He looked up at me in utter disbelief.  Shaking his head and using a semi-sarcastic, sing-song voice he said,

"It wasn't about a party."

Chuckle.  No, I suppose it wasn't.  To all appearances, my line of obtuse questioning was making for a poor conversation.  He left and I never did find out what happened.

- 16 November 2011

Pay Attention, Please

We had occasion to visit the Oregon Undersea Gardens during a trip to Newport one summer.  There was no shortage of fascinating diversions including, fish, crab, sharks, octopi and even a troupe of mermaids. 

True to form, however, my five-year-old son was having difficulty focusing on anything in particular.  How could a boy of that age (of any age) be expected to focus on what was happening beyond the glass?  It was so much more entertaining to reach out and touch the people sitting next to him...and join in their conversations...and study his own two wiggling feet?  See how easily they bounce off of the chair in front of us?  I wonder why that man keeps turning around and glaring?

Truly unaware of how much Ethan was actually taking in, or not, I sat listening to the presentation.  When the narrator arrived at the portion regarding the Pacific Octopus, it all became clear.

"...they are the masters of disguise," said the voice over the loud speakers.

"The skies?!" Ethan exclaimed in horror.  An absolutely stricken look arranged itself across his face.

"You mean they can fly?"

Oh, brother.  I can't wait for a telephone call from his science teacher.

- 22 June 2008

A Whole Different Slice

"Can I have a cut up pear?  It's true what they say...I'll eat anything."

Because, as everyone knows, in five-year-old-world, a sliced pear is an entirely different fruit than a whole pear.

- 7 February 2009

New from Hasbro

Our expressed purpose for traveling to WSU this weekend was to take Justin to a football game for his birthday.  This fact, while not a secret, was not widely discussed in Logan's presence.  The general tenet for a three-year-old boy with older siblings is thus: what's good for them is good for me and should be provided in ample quantities forthwith...hurry up.  Sadly, this philosophy was not to be put into practice.

Logan would not be going to the game and I could tell that the time to break the news was nearly at hand.  The conversation around the dinner table was reaching a fever pitch.  Justin and Ethan were very excited, repeatedly quizzing us all about the time remaining until departure. 

"36 seconds sooner than the last time you asked," became my mantra.

Logan followed the conversation around the table like a tennis match, carefully planning his point of interjection.  Before I had a chance to head him off, however, it became apparent that none of the three were eating.  Time to kill two birds.

"Only boys who eat a good dinner will go to the game," I announced.

Logan immediately sat up in his chair while Justin and Ethan began shoveling.

"Logan, you get to stay here with Mom and Grandma," I added quickly.

My suspicion that this would be of little consolation was confirmed when his face fell and he dropped his fork.  I was prepared.

"You can play Candy Land," I suggested.  We had had quite a spirited game earlier in the day and he had been keen to play another round.

A split second's contemplation was all he was afforded before the conversation took a turn that even I didn't see coming.

"I like Candy Land," Justin stated.

Since when?

"You do?" I asked, not bothering to mask my skepticism.

"Yes!  Especially with the tree snipers," he enthused.

Oh?  Not just regular snipers?

"And the candy cane grenades," Ethan added.

Naturally.  Who wouldn't?  I, too, enjoy a lively game of Guerrilla Candy Land.  Gloppy, the Molasses Monster, leading Special Forces against the evil Lord Licorice is a sight to behold.  Is it possible that Hasbro has missed a marketing opportunity in this demographic?  I'm afraid to ask about Hungry Hungry Hippos.  Good luck tonight, Ash.  See you after the game.

- 12 November 2011

I Have Other Plans

"Are you going to be president someday, Justin?"

"No, I have other plans for my life.  First, I am going to MIB (Men In Black), if there is such a thing.  If not, you will see me in one of the spy areas."

- circa 2008

Well...Almost

"I'm tired of it, quite frankly," I said, expressing my exasperation with Ethan.

Ethan, being only three, thought he had me backed into a corner.

"I'm not Frankly!  Frankly is a turtle."

- 5 November 2006

And on That Note...

Singing songs to the boys, after putting them to bed each night, is a treasured part of our bedtime routine.  Even after eleven years, my oldest son still comes in to listen while we sing. 

We have a very large repertoire which includes songs from my own childhood.  There are certain standards we sing every night and towards the end the boys are allowed to choose.  Occasionally, I will make up silly verses to familiar tunes.  This practice, though highly popular, is reserved for special circumstances as it tends to incite an uproar.  Once in a while they will throw me a curve ball by asking for a song that only my wife knows and vice versa.

On this particular evening, it was Logan and I, alone.

"What song should I sing next?" I asked him.

"How aboooooout Big Monster Snake?" he said.

How calming.  This benign little ditty must be a song that Ashley knows.

"I don't know that one.  Can you sing it for me?" I asked.

There was a great deal of fidgeting accompanied by some humming as he struggled to get a handle on the tune (and the covers).  Suddenly, he burst out with,

"Fire Tic Tacs and vege-ta-bles.  Big mon-ster snake...whoa, whoa, whoa."

I was caught completely off guard and failed to stifle my laughter.  Undeterred, he repeated the verse, determined for me to catch on and finish the song.  After breaking the news that I was completely unfamiliar with this charming composition, we decided to bring song time to an end.  I tucked him in and kissed him good night.  As I left the room, I couldn't help but wonder, "what have we done to this child?"

- 5 November 2011

Ventriloquist Dummy

This morning, like most others, we made our way out to the car for the morning commute.  Logan, herded along by Justin, piled in and plopped himself down in his car seat.

"Buckle me up, Justin!" he shouted.

"Nobody is going to do anything, young man, until you start using some manners," I scolded.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease," he sang.

The age of three affords Logan quite a bit of license when it comes to his oldest brother, but even he can only push so far.  Justin dutifully began to fasten the car seat straps.

"Yeah, I'm getting kind of tired of that," he told Logan.  "And all the complaining and whining about "I want, I want, I want"."

"It's always me, me, me, now, now, now with this kid," he said in my direction. 

Had my mouth been full, I would have choked.  For a moment I paused.  I don't remember saying anything but that sure did sound like my voice coming out of Justin's mouth.

Gee, Justin, I have no idea how you feel. 

Is that not the exact same order that I use those words in?  A quick check of my mental notes confirmed my suspicion.  "Phrase applied frequently and with great liberty to Justin and Ethan...and eventually Logan."  It was mine!  That must be why is sounded so familiar.  Oh the irony...and the copyright infringement.  Time to enlightenment: 10 years, 360 days, 22 hours and 28 minutes.  Best of luck, Justin.

- 9 November 2011

School Pictures FAIL...Again

This morning, at the breakfast table, things were beginning to ramp up in their usual manner.  Volume was loud, spirits were high and Rice Krispies were flyin'.  In an effort to keep a lid on the situation, so I could finish making lunches, I reminded Ethan (and the room at large) that he had better settle down.  Indeed, there was still the matter of the picture fiasco from the previous day hanging over his head.  Immediately, the older boys fell silent.  They even managed to hang their heads in a show of apparent remorse.  Points for effort gentlemen, but you don't fool me. 

After a moment's pause, Justin lifted his head and said,

"Um, Dad?  Now that Ethan has told you about the pictures, I need to tell you something."

Well, at least let me fasten my seat belt.

"What is it?" I asked tentatively.

"You know how Ethan had his picture taken in his undershirt?" he hinted.

Oh, here we go.  I tried not to roll my eyes.

"I'm aware," I said.

"Well, I sort of forgot too."

Surely you can not have forgotten the same thing.

"Forgot what?" I asked.

"Forgot to put on my sweater," he replied.

Seriously!  What is this, Groundhog Day?  Who am I, Bill Murray?  I swear that the last thing I did before bed last night was have this exact same discussion.  Hold on a second!  I seem to remember Justin insisting on wearing something over his sweater.  You know, something cooler, fashionably speaking.  This confession may not be going in the direction I thought.  Yes, yes, that's it...I'm wrong!  Why not?  It happened once before...it was bound to happen again.  Hooray!

"So, what did you have your picture taken in?" I asked hopefully.

"My undershirt."

Oh, holy buckets!  1, 2, 3, Not it!

- 8 November 2011

School Pictures FAIL

Ethan had just climbed up into his bed and I was finishing Logan's bedtime songs when a warning sailed down from the top bunk.

"Uh-oh, Dad."

"What is it?  What's the matter?" I asked.

"I forgot my sweater," he answered.

"When?" came my slightly exasperated reply. 

Despite being a champion player, Guess What/Where/When? is not my favorite game.

"At pictures today."

Oh no.

"You mean you didn't wear your sweater for your school picture?" I asked, hoping that I had fallen asleep on the floor and hadn't yet realized it.

"No," he said.

"What did you wear?" I asked.

"What was underneath it," he said, quietly.

Sigh.  As if I really had to ask...

"What was underneath it?"

"My undershirt."

"Do you mean to tell me that you had your school pictures taken in your underwear?!"

"Uh huh."

This is bad.  This is very bad.  But also kind of funny.  What my wife and I cannot seem to figure out is how he forgot about his sweater when he took it off during PE.  He forgot about his sweater after PE, while it was clutched in his hand on the way back to class.  He forgot about his sweater when they called his class for their pictures...and when they called his name...and when he sat on the stool...and when they said "smile".  Instead, he hopped into bed at 8:30 that night and that's when he remembered his sweater.

"Well, who's gonna tell Mom?" I asked.

1, 2, 3, Not it!

"You can," he said, very politely. 

An air of finality accompanied this statement as if to say, "it's been lovely chatting with you...you're dismissed."

Right.  Okay.  I've lived a good life.

"Hey, Ashley!"

I relayed the information from the opposite couch as we sat together in the living room.  Ashley had just returned from kissing the boys good night.  Somehow I felt that the timing was better as opposed to breaking the news first and then sending her off to kiss them farewell.  It's a shame, really, to spoil the first peaceful night in a long time with news such as this.  To my surprise (and alarm) she didn't say anything.  After her face did a chameleonesque color change she said, very calmly,

"You know, I was just looking at his baby picture on our dresser.  Remember how cute and chubby and happy he was?  And now all I can think about is how I'm going to have to kill him."

- 7 November 2011

Here Kitty Kitty...Litter

It occurred to me that, in three years time, I have never changed the cat litter box until after Logan was already in bed.  This fact was brought to my attention when I suddenly found Logan at my elbow.  He was staring at me wearing an expression of mingled disgust and awe.

"Daddy, what are you doing?"

"I'm changing the cat litter."

"Why don't you put it over there?"  he asked pointing at the carpet in the middle of the hallway.

"I think it would be better if I put it in the garbage, not mention that your mother would not be happy if I put it over there."

"That's where he pees!" he exclaimed, in a manner clearly meant to convey my stupidity.  Obviously I had failed to grasp the true nature of the task at hand and was blissfully unaware of what I was scooping.

Noted.

"It's yucky."

Dually noted.

"He's going to poop again."

Don't I know it!  Unfortunately, that's not the kind of job security that makes me sleep soundly at night.

"It's yucky," he repeated and then left the room.

Again, dually noted.  Thanks for your help.

- 6 November 2011

Unholy Cow!

Daylight savings time has always had a profound effect on our household.  This time was no different. 

Lunchtime and the boys were fading fast.  While trying to make it through in one piece I found myself reminding them to finish eating so that we could move on to naps, etc. 

"Logan, please turn around and finish eating your lunch.  It's nap time."

I fully expected backlash to one degree or another.  What I did not expect was Linda Blair.  Slowly, Logan's head revolved toward me.  His brow was furrowed and he had two macaroni noodles sticking out of his mouth that made a creepy hissing sound when he spoke.  Through clenched teeth he said slowly,

"Dad.  You told me three times!"

Yikes!  Quick, bring me some Holy Water.  I laughed nervously and said,

"Okay.  Then why are we still having this conversation?"

I received no response, just a continued stare and slow mechanical chewing like a demon cow and his cud.  Meanwhile, I was glad we had a tablecloth down because I was not interested in cleaning up the pea soup that I was certain would be forthcoming.  It also crossed my mind that I may not live long enough to mention finishing lunch a fourth time should I dare to speak again.  I could see Ashley peering around the corner from the kitchen clearly trying to decide whether or not to laugh or run screaming.  Whatever you decide...don't leave me here by myself.

- 6 November 2011

Excuses, Excuses

"He almost killed me half to death!"

Well, as long as you're only half dead, would you mind cleaning up your room?

- 23 February 2009

Stupid, Stupid Man

The boys love to hear stories from my blog almost as much as I love to tell them.  Their favorite game is to see if they can guess which one of them I am quoting.  There are times, however, when I forget myself completely, as though I don't really know how to speak Boy after all. 

Sometimes in life we are halfway through a task before we realize that it will end in complete disaster.  If stopping is not an option, most of us will work our way through, pick up the pieces at the end and move on with our lives.  Other times, however, we simply don't know that disaster is upon us until it's too late.  It is like riding your bicycle...turning around to talk to someone riding behind you, and slamming into a parked car.  You're just not going to see it until you're splayed across the hood.

Take this morning, for instance.  In between making peanut butter sandwiches and hollering at boys in various stages of undress, I began to read Dear Library.  Had I been aware of the dangerous obstacle that lay before me, I would have deployed a distraction and made my escape.  Unfortunately, I was unable to see the obstacle because it was camouflaged by a cereal-covered boy, a half eaten banana and a pair of underpants (Dear God, why are they wet?). 

I am referring, of course, to the land mine contained in the poem I had just started to read.  Apparently, both Justin and Ethan had forgotten that this particular issue had yet to be resolved and I was about to fan the coals of this dying argument.  As God is my witness...I actually gasped but was physically unable to stop my mouth from moving. 

"...no fights over Legos or whether or not chili is soup..." I read aloud.

As if I had just spoken a fact that was etched in stone, Ethan looked up at me, nodded and said,

"Because chili is soup, you know."  It was on.

"No it's not, Ethan!" Justin shouted as he rounded on his brother.

Wait!  No...no, no, no, no, no...oh, rats!

- 3 November 2011

Dear Library

Oh, Library. 

     How I love your quiet cocoon.  

No shouting.  

     No potty jokes. 

          No fights over Legos or whether or not chili is soup.  

Tell me a story. 

     Make me a believer of peace
          and harmony
               and adequate sleep.

Speak not of schmeckles. 
     Say nothing of wedgies.
          And I, in turn, will be your silent companion.

Please do not close.

     I would like to live here. 

What's that you say?

     I love you too.

- 2 November 2011

Let This Be a Lesson

My boys, certainly all boys, find it exciting to drive past emergency vehicles when their lights are flashing.  Their faith in my clairvoyance is unfailing.  Surely, I already know exactly what has happened, what is happening and what is about to happen, even at a thousand paces.  Occasionally, however, my psychic skills are preempted, in this case by a two-year-old.

As we drove slowly past, donning our rubber necks, we were witness to the handcuffing of a man bent over the hood of a squad car.

"Uh oh," Justin said.  "Someone broke something."

Indeed.  Unfortunately, at this very moment, the toddler in the back seat is wondering what got broken and why he is full of snips and snails and puppy dog tails.  How does one begin to explain the difference between the law and the living room lamp?

One doesn't.

One simply agrees.  "Whatever was broken must have been very important," you say, tossing in the most recent example of destruction and melee at the hands of your son for emphasis.  Then you mentally bookmark this page in the book of life for future reference and employment.  Trust me, you will refer to it often.

Is that mean and underhanded?  No.  That's just how to speak Boy.

- 14 August 2003

I'm Sensing a Theme

Logan hands Ashley his bag, huffing and puffing. 

"Mommy you can go trick-or-treating for me.  This bag is heavy of candy."

- 31 October 2011

"This was the best Halloween ever!  We got the most candy ever! 

Here, hold my bag."

- 31 October 2011

"This candy is weighing me down so much my feet hurt right now."

- 31 October 2011

The Great Pumpkin

As with any language, success is not always measured by the individual's mastery of the dialect.  Often, it is the interaction with other native and non-native speakers that hones our skills and prevents us from making an ass of ourselves.

A visit to our local pumpkin farm is always an autumn treat.  Picking out the perfect pumpkin is something that the boys absolutely relish.  Last year, however, my wife was ill and the task of taking all three boys to pick out pumpkins fell to me...alone.

"Dad, I want to get the biggest pumpkin they have," Justin announced.

"Okay," I replied.  Really, how big could that be?

Now, there are several important factors to consider when a father (a large boy himself) takes his sons on an adventure of this nature.  Indeed, the missing dose of estrogen may well have prevented circumstances from getting out of hand.  Alas, no estrogen was to be found.

Factors to deliberate:

• Would this pumpkin have won a ribbon at the county fair?  Yes.
• Can the pumpkin in question be ridden?  That is to say, should it have sprouted legs and galloped around the paddock would the boy have been able to ride it like a large, orange horse?  Yes.
• Have you been subconsciously scanning the crowd of onlookers to see who is wearing an expression of horror at what is certain to be your undoing?  Yes.
• Was there concern that you might recognize any of them and they, in turn, would tip off your wife?  Yes.
• Was there concern that you might not recognize anyone and be forced to ask a complete stranger to help you load this behemoth into your car?  Yes.
• Did the previous concern raise a red flag seeing as how you have no trouble lifting the son in question?  No.
• Should it have?  Yes.

Ashley was sick.  Perhaps she wouldn't notice.  But she would not be sick forever and eventually she was bound to wonder about the sudden appearance of a large orange boulder on the front walk.   Having settled comfortably into blissful ignorance, Justin and I wrestled the pumpkin onto the wagon the very best way we could.  We finally climbed the hill and presented our find to the cashier.  It was here that we were confronted with our final opportunity to come to our senses.  If only we had.

The farm could only charge us for a 60 pound pumpkin because that is where the scales capacity ended and the pumpkin began.

To this day we still don't know how much it actually weighed.  All I do know is that it took a furniture dolly to move it to the front porch and two garbage collections to dispose of the evidence.

- 26 October 2010

Piece of Cake?

"Justin, what do you want for your birthday?"

"Umm, cheese!"

Excellent.  Done!  For your 4th birthday I might even consider getting you two kinds of cheese.

- 21 October 2003

I'm Sorry I Yelled

"You broke my feelings."

Yeah?  Well, I'll bet that my foot hurts a lot more than your feelings!

- 24 October 2005

Had You Been Wondering

On a Sunday afternoon in January we went for a walk with the boys.  The sun was out and we all needed the fresh air.  True to life, five-year-old Justin galloped along with me jogging in his wake.  Being only two, Ethan ambled along, holding Ashley's hand, in no apparent hurry.  Ethan had been carefully studying the ground as he walked.

"There are our shadows, us and me...but not Cooper, he's not here!"

- 8 January 2006

A Sense of Accomplishment

Taking stock of his room, Justin stood in his doorway and said,

"I've done things in my life."

Indeed.  Now, if you wouldn't mind cleaning them up, the FBI would like to make sure Jimmy Hoffa isn't in here.

- 20 November 2006

Cooper, the Cat

"It's so fluffy and full of kittyness!"

Well isn't that sweet?  Now run and get a paper towel.  His kittyness is all over the living room rug and your mother will be home any minute.

- 22 November 2006

Roommates

When Justin found out that Ashley was pregnant, he was seven years old and already had four-year-old brother.

"If it's a boy he can stay in my room...if it's a girl, Ethan can have her!"

- 22 January 2008

Cheeky Monkey

"When I die and go to God, I'm gonna tell Him I want to go home.  It's a little bit boring at God's place."

Just be sure to take a glass of ice water if you're going to be fresh.  There may be a detour.

- 12 November 2004

Animal Crackers

"I don't like these but they sure are good!"

Would you like a glass of milk to wash down the crazy...or are you good?

- 17 June 2005

5-Year-Old-Math

"Mom, what's the number none?"

- 23 March 2006

Perception Is Reality

"SpongeBob got a cookie.  I want a cookie.  That's not fair!"

Which part's not fair, again?  The part where you didn't get a cookie or the part where I have to explain to your mother why a two-year-old is watching TV?  Damn, now I want a cookie!

- 20 November 2005

Done and Done

"Dad...you really should say sorry for ruining my life."

Wow!  I'm way ahead of schedule.  You're only four.  I had better get started on your brother.

- 19 October 2005

It's Good to Have a Plan

One afternoon, Justin stood in the doorway watching me change his brother's dirty diaper.

"If I have to do that, I'm not gonna get married.  I'm gonna make my wife do it or I'll throw away her jewelry."

I always say, it's good to have a plan.

- 22 February 2006

How Old is Old?

An entire week has elapsed since my in-laws came for a visit and six days have passed since my wife purchased a new purse.  Since its introduction into our household, the purse has been seated in plain sight on a bench in the living room where every member of the family parades past it no less than four times a day.  My oldest son finally caught sight of it just yesterday.

"Mom, Grandma left her purse here," he hollered.

"No Justin, that's mine."

"Why do you have an old lady purse?" he asked.

In the silence that greeted these words, I mentally put all of my chips in on the old lady.  I'd watch my step if I were you, Justin.  If you end up having to throw down with her, she'll beat you with that purse tied behind her back.  Either that or she'll beat you with her purse...or her walker.

- 16 October 2011

Hook, Line and Stinker

Days before his 3rd birthday, Justin came to me looking extremely dejected.

"Daddy, I'm sad."

"Why?" I asked.

"People don't like me," he said.

This was very concerning news.  He's not even three!  Who are these people...and where can I find them?

"What?!  Justin that's not true.  Who told you that?"

"The cat."

- 5 November 2003

What Are You?

On one of the rare occasions when I became exasperated with my middle son (then 3), my oldest (then 5) offered these words of consolation.

"Oh, Ethan," Justin said, quietly shaking his head.  "He doesn't know how the world works.  He doesn't know what to do or what he wants or what he is." 

Justin lifted his head and called to the next room,

"Hey, Ethan?  What are you?"

"Pretty," came the reply.

- 27 October 2006

Let's run through this one more time...

"I'm the gadget maker and the brains.  Ethan's the loco one and you and Mom are the ones who take me places and tell me what to do."

Genius inventor, crazy person, secretary and chauffeur.  That's quite a staff roster you have there.  Well, at least I'll know what to put on my resume.

- 12 July 2007

Guinness Book of What Kind of Records?

As a parent, you are constantly on the lookout for signs that the knowledge you are imparting to your children is having some effect...any effect.  I mean, who am I kidding?  If I only have to remind them to stop answering the front door in their underwear six times in a day instead of seven, I'm not going to split hairs.

Justin and his brother have found endless fascination in the weird and wonderful realm of the Guinness Book of World Records.  What started out as a quest to break an already established record has become a tireless mission to set a record of their very own.

...if only they could think of the perfect record to set...

Each of our visits to Costco or a local bookstore finds them drooling over the newest edition of the Guinness Book.  Never has an opportunity been missed to ask - nay, beg - for a copy for their birthday, Christmas, Easter, Columbus Day, Flag Day...or Tuesday.

During one of our weekly visits to the library, I was excited to witness my shared wisdom being put into action.  Justin not only remembered that he could find the book at the library but he remembered to ask the librarian when he had trouble finding it on his own.  Naturally, I watched the scene unfold from a distance, not being certain that I had been given permission to be seen in public with him.

Guiding Justin through the stacks, the librarian asked him what Guinness records he was out to break or set.  There was absolutely no hesitation when he said,

"Most burps in a day, most farts in an hour."

Ohh!  So close!  I'm fairly certain I had to stifle a yelp.

- 28 April 2009

Everyone's a Critic

My sons have always had strong opinions about life.  This was my 4-year-old.

"When I die, I'm gonna tell God it takes too long for the sun to come up!"

Good luck with that.

- 22 December 2004

Young American Poetry Digest 2011

My middle son, Ethan, is your typical 8-year-old.  Always talking, always moving, always hungry.  His two states of consciousness, awake and slightly less awake, coincide with his two volumes, loud and louder.  He is constantly trying to get us to call him by a variety of nicknames.  Despite his success at school, however, his nickname efforts on the home front have failed. 

Ethan's school work, among other things, follows closely along these lines.  Consequently, a story or poem he has composed will have certain requisite elements including: nicknames, noise, damage and banishment.  When this poem appeared in Young American Poetry Digest for 2011 none of us were surprised.  Proud, but not surprised. 

POE AND MOE

There was a guy named Poe.

He used to play with Moe.

But they screamed too loud.

And broke the crowd.

And there he never again goes.

- Spring 2011

Sometimes I Dream

"Mom, sometimes I dream that I'm Shark Boy and sometimes I dream that I'm Shark Boy but with my same hair."

- 7 February 2008

21st Century

"Momma!  I texin Gramma!"
(He's two.)

- 5 March 2011

Poor Jesus

"I feel bad for Jesus."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because we didn't go to church."

"Do you remember why we didn't go to church?" I inquired.

"Because Justin pushed me and we had to go to the emergency room.  Do you think we ruined His birthday?"

- 24 December 2008

Traumatic Colored Glasses

While on an early morning walk I mentioned to my oldest son that I would soon be wearing glasses.

"WHAT? You're going to get glasses? I don't want you to wear glasses!"

Umm, okay.

"Dad I don't want to look at you while you're wearing glasses."

Well, since the sight of my plain face is borderline traumatic I guess I'll know exactly what to do if I want you to go away...punk.  I assured him that I could still see well enough to aim a swift kick at his behind.

- 12 September 2011

Innovative

All three boys are in constant trouble for inturrupting conversations.  Indeed, it is difficult to string three words together in my house, let alone finish an entire thought or conversation.  As I attempted to relate an amusing annecdote to my wife, of which Ethan had been a part, I was once again inturrupted.  Ethan barged right in and picked up the story where he had cut me off, then paused, turned to me and said,

"Sorry Dad.  I didn't want you to have to do all the work."

All I could manage was, "thank you," and a chuckle.

- 6 March 2009

May I Push Your Buttons?

Justin and Ethan are typical siblings, always trying to get the other's dander up.  When all else fails, their go-to button-to-push is making fun of the other person's name.  Ever the helpful older brother, Justin offered this explanation for the 5-year-old tantrum that had just commenced.

"I think he's mad because you named him Ethan."

Did I laugh out loud?  A little.

- 26 July 2007

Suddenly There Came an Epiphany?

My youngest son, Logan, came home early yesterday after a fit of vomiting.  Consequently, he was unable to go to swimming lessons that evening.  There was a great deal of crying and carrying on at the idea of having to forgo his beloved swimming lesson but eventually he settled down.  With eyes full of tears he looked up at me and asked,

"Cam we go to swimming wessons on sex day?"

Ohhhhh boy.  My brain cramped as a thousand thoughts crowded to the front vying for position.  The winner?

"What?!" 

Well played, Andy...pure genius.  Let us dispense with the cumbersome questions and get right to the heart of the matter with this crack investigative strain.

"Cam we go to swimming wessons on sex day?" he repeated.
"Sex day?" I asked again.
"Um, yeah," he said.

Hmmm.  More brain cramping. 

Logan stood there staring at me patiently.  Meanwhile, my remaining thoughts began to riot and the conversation in my head deteriorated rapidly.  What could he mean?  Where is he learning this stuff?  What does he know?  What else does he know?  Are we getting our money's worth or should we be asking for a refund?  This is Tuesday...do you suppose he is talking about Wednesday?  And that's when Bevis and Butthead arrived. 

Heh, heh, he said 'sex day'...hump day...Wednesday...get it? 

I am not proud.

Suddenly there came an epiphany.

"Do you mean six day?" I asked hopefully.
"Yeah!" he nodded.

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing happened so I closed it again.  All at once I realized I had no idea what that meant either.  Pickle, pickle...it's like being involved in a real life three-year-old version of Choose Your Own Adventure.  The wrong response could land you on page 29 where you are murdered by a 50-foot slug or a man-eating toilet seat.  I am a college educated man who is rarely at a loss for words and I was not about to be undone by a preschooler. 

"Yes, we'll go on six day," I decided. 

That's right, watch the master at work.

"Okay," he said as he turned on his heal and hurried out of the room.

Sigh.  Now to find an aspirin and a Logan-to-English dictionary.  Didn't one of my other sons mention that he knew how to speak Human?

- 4 October 2011