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