You've Got Male

There had obviously been a lapse in the bedtime proceedings for I suddenly found myself in the presence of a five-year-old, bent over, naked, with buns waving in the air.  The singsongy voice proclaimed,

"Oh, Da-ddy...you've got mail."

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.[1]  But God, please, could you let them skip my house?  This is one delivery that I'm certain I could live without or, at least, I could try.

- 11 January 2006

[1] National Postal Museum: FAQs

Inspector General

My oldest son, then five, was at the babysitter when the state inspector paid a routine visit.  I am certain that the mysterious stranger's presence had been thoroughly explained and the importance of the visit had been carefully outlined prior to their arrival.  Still, I wonder how much a preschool child could really grasp.  Then there was Justin...five going on thirty-five.  He shadowed the inspector throughout the house, watched as cupboards were opened, closets were inspected and notes were made, scrutinizing every move.  At last, he offered his oh-so-helpful assistance.

"Don't worry.  No bad stuff ever happens here!"

- 2 February 2006

A State of Wild Disorder

On Tuesday, the day after our weekly Cub Scout meeting, I received a call from the Cub Master.  Initially, the call was unrelated to the collective antics of Justin's den, but the conversation soon circled around to the previous evening's welter.

"Justin, Mr. Hollopeter called me this afternoon," I said, once I had arrived home and tracked him down in his bedroom.

Stunned silence.  A rare and prized achievement.

"I wonder if you could tell me what he might have been calling to discuss regarding you and Winston at Monday night's meeting?" 

The awkward silence and accompanying "deer in the headlights" look broke into a wide grin. 

"He's glad to see that we're such good friends and he wants to see that continue?" he said hopefully.

Chuckle-worthy, but no.  Try again.

- 4 October 2011

Double Jeopardy

A five-year-old Ethan climbed into the van after school and attempted to get himself fastened into his seat.  There was an eternity of struggling and commotion.  The effort was tremendous.  At long last came the click of the seat belt.  Ethan deflated into his seat and let out an enormous sigh of relief.

"Whew, it's a good thing my two girl friends didn't see that!"

- 20 January 2009

Questionable Roots

The only reason Justin looked up from the iPad was because I had just put a plate of nachos on the table.

"I'm as obsessed about being Irish and getting a hundred percent on the Irish levels [of this game] as Simon is convinced that he's Russian," he said.

"Maybe he is Russian," I suggested.

"Maybe, but last year he told us he was Swedish.  It sure does raise an eyebrow."

As does this conversation.

- 25 February 2012

Sincerely, Ethan

Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

     I am at school writing this letter to you guys.  Logan was under the table.  Isn't that strange?  [You have no idea.]  Hmmm...odd.  I have a list of questions but I'll just tell you one.  Here it is: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y and Z.  I bet that you know this is a song.  [There was, in fact, singing and dancing.]  The End.  Ya!  Yow!  Wow!  "That was awesome," is what I bet you will say, and all that stuff, after you read this.

                                                                     Sincerely,
                                                                     Ethan


This little snippet, dated October 3, 2010, is the libretto of my life.  If this is just a letter, you can only imagine the telephone calls.  Somehow, it manages to be noisy, even on paper.

Tuesday Morning Tussle

As I have long suspected, a great deal of the excitement that is our lives occurs after I have left the house each day.  This morning, at work, I received an email from my wife.

"Did I remember to tell you that I was late for my post-observation conference with my boss this morning..."

No, you did not.  Unfortunately, I can think of no less than 12 things that may have caused that to be true and all of them involve one boy or another.  Tell me more.  And by tell me more, I mean tell me who I have to kill and when, so I can rearrange my schedule.

"...because I had to break up and de-escalate a physical altercation over whether the song on the radio was by Rhianna or Katy Perry?"

Fisticuffs over women...already?  I laughed so loudly that a co-worker came to investigate.  Okay, I'll say it...that was not one of the 12 things I thought of...that's even better.

"Yeah.  This is my life," the email continued.  "I know one shoots whipped cream out of her boobs, but does that warrant a headlock?"

Actually, yes, it does.  Look, we've been married for nearly 15 years so I think it's time I let you in on a little secret.  Boys are stupid.  Not academically speaking, of course, but purely in a social sense.  There really isn't any way to defend it.  It's probably best if you just get behind it.

- 21 February 2012

Gleek

"Pick a song, Logan."

"Mmrrfghherghhan," he giggled.

"Logan, pick a song for me to sing or I'll pick for you and then we'll be done."

My exasperation was getting the better of me.

"Umm, how about a Gwee song?" he asked.

What?  How is it that you have come to know what that means and how are you able to put it all into the proper context?  You're still three, right?

"A Glee song?"

"Yes.  You watch (know) all of them," he stated.

Hardly.

"Uh, no, that would be your mother."

Ashley, I think it's your turn.  Apparently, I need to dig out the Karaoke machine.  Logan's about to take this act on the road.  Call me if he requests any Gilbert and Sullivan.

- 21 February 2012

Movie Madness

Our two oldest sons are two and a half years apart in age.  Consequently, they are what we commonly refer to as "on different plans".  The boys know this to mean that what goes for one does not necessarily go for the other - rights, privileges, bed times, etc.  You could also think of it as a three track plan - the plan being Boy, and the tracks being Justin, Ethan and Logan.

The three track plan came into play this weekend when Justin and Ethan had back-to-back sleepovers.  Justin had his friend over last night and it was Ethan's turn tonight.  Just as my sons' tracks are different, so too are the tracks of the boys they invited to spend the night (who are, incidentally, also brothers).

Most of the differences this weekend revolved around the video games to be played and the movies to be watched.  As the boys got settled in for the night and set about picking the movie a discussion arose.  Soon, Ethan arrived upstairs to ask if they could finally watch Poltergeist II.  Finally, as though we had been stalling until one of them had a friend spend the night.  My immediate answer was "no".  Admittedly, I sat for a moment and happily reflected on the weekend when we let them watch the original Poltergeist.  Ahh, memories.  After discussing it with Ashley, we decided to let them watch and I went downstairs to tell them.  Immediately, Bryce piped up, "I'm not allowed to watch horror movies."  Aha!  Well, that settles that.

"Alright boys, since Bryce is not allowed to watch horror movies, his card trumps yours," I said.  "And, since that's the case Ethan, stop searching the horror movie category!"

"I'm not," he said.

Ethan, I'm standing right behind you watching your every move.

"You see the header at the top of the section you're searching?  The one announcing 'horror movies'?  That's your clue," I replied.

"They're not all horror movies," Ethan and Justin said together.

There was a short exchange in which examples were given and arguments were rebutted.  When I was satisfied that I had made my point - you're wrong and I'm right - I bade them good night and returned upstairs.  Not five minutes had passed when Ethan, once more, appeared upstairs in our bedroom door.

"Can we watch Hellboy?" Ethan asked excitedly.

Ashley's and my response was almost simultaneous.

"Hell no, boy!"

There is the slightest chance that we're not as hilarious as we think we are.  Still, I'm glad it was our son that came to ask.  We haven't heard from them since.  Eventually I'll go and check on them...or not.

- 18 February 2012

Live for the Now

I'm not sure who's learning what lesson here.

"Logan, get off the table and stay off the couch," I shouted as I came into the living room.

"Daddy!  I have to dance on the coffee table and jump on the couch," he explained.  "Tomorrow they will be old and rusty."

While I was busy laughing, he got down and snapped on the stereo.  Now he's doing a musically enhanced interpretive dance on the couch.

Meanwhile, I'm off to find my car keys and punch card.  I see a trip to the E.R. in my future.

- 18 February 2012

Don't Quote Me

I am really going to have to put a little more thought into the things I say around the house, especially when I'm angry or upset.  This revelation was brought into sharp focus the other night at dinner.

My wife Ashley, performs five vital roles (among other things) in our family.  She is the center of our health, well being, nutrition, organization and morality.  Without any one of these essential pieces, we (I) would be sunk.  All too often, I take for granted her tireless efforts to keep us healthy, well rounded, well nourished, organized and on track.  It is my mission, however, to make sure that our sons do not.

On this particular evening, everyone was tired from a long and rough day...and by everyone, I mean me.  Too much was happening - so much noise and chaos.  Not enough, or any, help was being given by the male members of the family and dinner preparations were under way.  Ashley was busy displaying her usual talent and proficiency for cooking but got distracted and ended up burning the applesauce.  She was horrified.  I asked her not to throw it out because I knew it would still be fantastic (which it was) but I also knew that I would be unable to stop her from confessing to the family at large.

In order to prevent any complaints or face making from the boys, I suggested that negative comments would be unwelcome.  Until such a time, if any, that they chose to participate in a manner beyond that of consumption, they could simply "suck it".  I had had enough!

As the last two words hung in the air over the dining room table I knew at once I had made a mistake.  If only I could snatch them out of thin air and stuff them back into my mouth.  Alas...

There was a momentary pause while all eyes were averted.  From my left came a small, three-year-old voice.

"Daddy," he said casually, not looking up as he organized the peas on his plate.

Oh boy, here it comes.  I'm not sure whether I was more nervous about what was coming next or about accidentally meeting my wife's glare and being struck instantly dead.  I think I might have actually broken a sweat.

"I can suck it through a straw," he proudly announced.

- 22 January 2012

A Hole New Car Ride

"Hey!  There's a hole in my jeans..."

Well, tear out the front page!  This is not an unusual sentence and, certainly, not an uncommon discovery for a boy.  To the novice - a warning.  Pay no attention to this part of the sentence.  It would be far more newsworthy if there hadn't been a hole.

"...and now I can touch my underwear!"

There.  Are you worried yet?  It wasn't the sentence itself that caught my attention, it was the glee with which it was expressed.  My only dilemma here was whether or not I really wanted to know if underwear touching had been a part of the pre-hole discovery and where or when this was all occurring.

I opted not to ask and just kept driving.

- 18 February 2012

Fast Friends

A few nights ago, we had friends come to dinner.  Logan was beside himself with anticipation.  All three of his new friends were his age and this would be the first time for them to meet.  For the entire week leading up to that night he quizzed and re-quizzed us about who was coming and when they would arrive.  When his new "regular friends" (as they were now being called) came, the bond of friendship was instantaneous and they became thick as thieves.

The evening was fantastic, but all too soon it had to come to an end.  After everyone had gone home our bedtime routine began.  What remained before lights out was an endless recounting all of the fun that was had and reassuring Logan that we would see his friends again soon.  It quickly became apparent that "soon" was too much of an abstract concept for Logan.  He wanted hard facts and confirmed dates.  At long last, we managed to get him to bed.

The next morning, at the breakfast table, the discussion resumed.  Names were carefully reviewed and anecdotes were meticulously recounted.  Just when I thought we were about to wrap things up and get ready to head to school, Logan looked across the table and said,

"After breakfast, you can just drop me off at Grace and Olivia's house."

Translation: Let's just dispense with the formalities, here's my new schedule.  During dinner that evening he tried a different approach.

"Tomorrow morning can I go over to Jeff-es?"

I'm sure Jeff would have no problem with you coming over for a visit, especially since he'll be at work.  Why don't we check with Grace and Olivia's mom first...she's the one that we're about to put into a padded cell.

- 17 January 2012

A Fitting End

"Eww, there's poop!"

And so began a fitting end to the day.  Unfortunately, this was not the first time I had been met with a doodie dilema since arriving home from work.  "Dad, the toilet's plugged," - not my favorite greeting.  But, let's rewind a little.  Dinner was finished and Logan and I had just returned from the grocery store.  As I began putting the groceries away I remember him running into the dining room.

"Oh, I forgot to eat my applesauce," he exclaimed as he climbed into his seat.

Super, have at it.  Now, if you had asked me to testify as to the whereabouts of Logan the entire time I was attending to the groceries, I would have sworn that he was at the table happily consuming the remaining portions of his dinner.  I was about to discover, however, that there was (and still is) an entire chunk of time that I am unable to account for.  This fact is very distressing to me as Logan would have had to pass right by me in order to leave the room, to say nothing of returning. 

When I had finished with the groceries I went to feed the cat.  There was a bit of fidgeting and a few distressful noises emanating from the dining room.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"There's something tickling my foot."

"Hmm," I said as I glanced in his direction to see him fiddling with his toes.

I remember being amused at the thought of the cat circling his bare feet under the table even though the cat was pawing my hand as I filled his food dish.  First clue - missed.  Correction - second clue, missed.  When I glanced over and saw him fiddling with his foot, I failed to notice the complete lack of clothing from the waist down.

"Eww, there's poop!" he hollered.

Okay, now he had my attention.  I approached wearily as he held out his hand and wiggled his fingers.

"How did you happen to be sitting at the dining room table with no pants on...at all?" I asked in alarm.  "Where are your jeans?  And underpants?  All I did was feed the cat...did time stand still?"

My mind was reeling.  What happened?  I'm reasonably certain that he had pants on when I took him to the store.  I examined his fingers - sure enough, poop.  I never imagined that, when we covered the newly reupholstered dining room chairs with clear plastic, this is what we would be protecting them from.

"You go and stand in the bathroom and don't touch anything!" I said indicating that he should take immediate leave of the room.  

Now what?  I stood rooted to the spot as my mind shifted into overdrive.  Where do I start?  Where has he been?  What has he touched?  Alright, I'll start with the boy.  As I entered the bathroom I could see Logan standing there looking very upset.  I was immediately suspicious.  He should be upset, of course, but he looked too upset...why?  The reason became almost immediately apparent as I cautiously approached and tread on the soggy bathroom rug.  Oh, come on!  Why is there a large yellow puddle on the floor in front of the toilet?  Why is this not the first time I've wondered that aloud as I stand here in wet socks?

Fast forward...Logan was now in the tub and Justin had been summoned from the basement to be on drowning patrol while I took the rugs and started the washing machine.  In my absence, Justin began to quiz Logan about what was happening since I had refused to fill him in.  I knew that he wouldn't stay if he suspected that there was poo involved.

"I got poop on my hands and peed on the floor," Logan crooned from the tub.

Meanwhile, Ashley was hiding under the covers in the next room.  Very helpful.  When it finally came time to brush teeth, and I had cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom, I asked Logan to join me.  He gave me a skeptical look.

"It's fine," I said.  "Look!  It's all purdy, shiny clean!"

"What happened to all the blankets (rugs)?" he asked.

"They're in the washing machine because..."

"I like to pee!" he shrieked.

Amen.

- 16 February 2012

AKA

"The bottom of God's ground."

What?  Oh, the sky!  Ah, the 4-year-old mind.

- 30 August 2005

Trouble

Eight days after our second son was born, Ashley was sore from breast feeding.  Justin, after hearing his mother lament, turned to me and asked,

"Are momma's boobs in big big trouble?"

- 8 May 2003

Love is at Hand

This afternoon, Ashley and I went to an open house.  We love to look at houses.  Call it a lark, a hobby, a pastime, an illness.  Whether or not the house fits any of our potential needs, any aspect of our imaginary budget or has any basis in reality - totally irrelevant.  This house, however, was a good match.  If we could have afforded it, we would have made an offer. 

During dinner that evening we proceeded to describe the house and all of it's awesome features to the boys.  As if on cue, the general outcry began.  "No!  We're not going to move, are we.  What about school?  What about all my friends?  We can't!  I'm not going!"  Okay, in the first place, we'd be moving six blocks away, not out of the country.  Secondly, it's across the street from school so, if anything, you'd be closer to your friends.  Lastly, if we go, you go.  End of story. 

Now, to set your minds at ease, we're not moving.  Mom and I just went to look at the house.

"Oh, good!  I don't want to move," Ethan said with a great sigh of relief.  "I know this place like the back of my hand.  I really love this hand."

- 12 February 2012

Advanced Planning

As I was cleaning up a mess in the basement this morning, I caught wind of a conversation that my three-year-old was having with my wife.  Judging by the flailing limbs and the excitable dance that accompanied this discourse, I could tell this was serious business.  Only February and already the Halloween costume planning had begun.  Clearly, a great deal of thought had been devoted to this topic already.

"...and, and, Justin will be a goldfish...and Ethan will be a vampire...and Daddy will be a choo-choo train..."

Apparently the thought of me dressed as a choo-choo train was fraught with hilarity and could barely be uttered through the laughter and giggling.

"...and, and, I will wear a Batman suit," he announced, nearly breathless with excitement.

"Well, what am I gonna be?" Ashley asked in an amused tone.

Without the slightest pause or hesitation his answer came ringing through the kitchen.

"A witch!"

I'm certain that's not a personal reflection, my love.

- 12 February 2012

Do-Over

As you learn to speak Boy, you must develop the ability to change topics of conversation at the speed of light and without warning.  Dismiss any preconceived notions that there will be any common thread among these topics and embrace the random confusion that is Boy.  Remember these sage words, "The face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of the face." - Jack Handey

Only moments before we had been discussing the pros and cons of handing out Dora the Explorer valentines to fellow preschoolers.  Without warning...

"When I grow up I'm gonna be Batman and save the world.  And when I grow up again I'm gonna be Robin."

Fine.  Meanwhile, I'm still working on growing up the first time.

- 11 February 2012

Ornaments

Two days before the beginning of Christmas vacation, Ashley was helping all three boys hand paint ornaments that were to be given as gifts to their respective teachers.  As they gathered around the newspaper-lined dining room table, each bent over an ornament, I watched from afar.  This variety of activity, and the corresponding mess, shares a level of dislike in my book along with Play-Doh and Easter egg dying.

"Logan, you're being so careful," Ashley praised, as Logan did his best to keep the paint in it's proper place.

"Logan, careful?" Justin asked, failing to stifle his skepticism.  "That's a sentence I want to hear more often."

Me too, Justin.  Me too.

- 14 December 2011

Wait and See

Just days before his third birthday, Ashley and I were still wondering what gift to get for Logan.  At dinner one evening, Ashley asked me what I thought and I suggested that she ask Logan directly.  Little did I know that, not only was Logan prepared to carry on a very polite and patient conversation, but he was completely unfazed by what he apparently thought was his parents' utter stupidity.

"Logan, what would you like for your birthday?" Ashley asked.

"Um, how 'bout a present, mama?" he suggested.

I snorted into my drink.

"What should it be?" she asked, suppressing a giggle.

"Blue with polka dots and Mickey Mouse on it."

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"What should be inside it, Logan?" she asked, trying not to meet my eyes across the table.

"Um, we'll have to look and see, mama."

Ironically, his gentle but apprehensive tone of voice suggested that he wondered why he was having to explain all of this to us 3-year-olds.  Didn't we already know?

- 25 August 2011

My One and Only-est

While waiting at the Y for Justin and Ethan's swimming lessons to end, Logan was doing his very best to get me to read him the books he had brought along.  Meanwhile, I was busy trying to decide if this was a battle worth waging or if it would be easier to fight the one that would surely ensue if I started reading and then had to stop halfway through.

"...but you're the only-est dad I've ever seen," he pleaded.

Translation: You're my only dad.

Meaning: You're my only-est hope.  If I'm unable to charm you with my ultra-cuteness, I'm going to be stuck reading these darn books myself.  P.S.  I can't read.

- 29 November 2011

Proper Greetings

When Logan came to the horse barn during our visit to the fair, we were forced to visit every single stall.

"Tell me their names.  I want to say 'Hi' to their names."

Thank goodness most of the stalls were empty or we might still be there.

- 1 September 2011

My Favorite Letter

Ethan's excitement was eclipsed only by his moonstricken delight when he came to Ashley and made this announcement.

"I just spelled L-O-V-E with 386 'E's!"

- 16 June 2008

Old People Are Crafty

My father-in-law bought me a truck for Christmas.  It is a 1993 Dodge Dakota 4x4, standard cab, long-bed, V8 automatic.  It's fantastic!  When I went to pick it up on Christmas Eve day, I brought my oldest son with me.  As we drove home, I was marveling at all of it's features...no airbags, manual windows, manual door locks, manual side mirrors, AM/FM stereo cassette player.  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Justin shaking his head in disbelief.

"How did you people ever survive?" he said.

In much the same way you'll survive having children when it's your turn...punk!  It won't be easy and I can hardly wait to watch!

- 24 December 2011

The Two Little Pigs

Logan had been telling me the story of The Three Little Pigs for days.  This afternoon, at preschool, he made one of the little pigs' houses - the brick house.  When I got home, he carfully showed me his project and explained every detail.  I thought it was odd, and slightly amusing, that he kept referring to The Two Little Pigs.  When I reminded him that there were three pigs, he insisted that there were only two.  Puzzled, and curious, I asked what happened to the other little pig.

"He's dead," came the matter-of-fact response.

Despite my best efforts to ascertain the specific details surrounding the third pig's demise I was unsuccessful.  More to the point, I was catching heat, from the very three-year-old who had offed the little cob roller, for being far too concerned about the fact that this little pig was now pushing up the daisies and not listening to the story he was trying to tell me.

Well, e-x-c-u-s-e me for trying to set the record straight.

- 10 January 2012

Hold on to Your Meatball

As you are aware by now, we sing to the boys each night before bed.  For eleven years, On Top of Spaghetti has been a part of our repertoire.  Upon reaching the line, "then early next summer, it grew into a tree, and grew lovely meatballs for ... and me," it has been my habit to include the names of all people present in the room at the time.  This simply will not do.  Each successive boy, apparently having the same internal programming, will stop the song to recite the names of all missing parties.  Obviously, my old age has caused my memory to fail and the task of including all family members, present or not, is beyond my mental capacity.  Occasionally, a random friend or animal is tossed in for good measure.  It makes no difference whether I concede and pause or rail against it and plow ahead at an increase speed...the missing people are always accounted for.

On this particular evening, I thought I had finally come up with a solution.  When I reached the key point in the song, instead of listing individual names, I sang, "...and grew lovely meatballs for the Jones family and me."  The peanut gallery was silent.  What do you know about that?

As I neared the end of the song, a small voice sailed neatly over the top of the lyrics.

"And, and the Moline family," he said.

Clever little bugger.  I had been completely fooled.  The preceding silence was not due to a clever solution on my part.  It was a result of the fact that Logan doesn't know many last names, apart from our own, and it took him a moment to remember and pick out his favorite one.

- 2 February 2012

Bath Time Bewilderment

My life is nothing if not exciting and unpredictable.  I spend a lot of time pretending that I know what to expect and how to handle it.  Then I spend time with my sons.  If I ever tell you that I have it all figured out...I'm lying.  Bath time is one of those unpredictable and exciting times.  My roll is usually limited and the majority of the bathing process is really just play time.  Occasionally, my presence is acknowledged.

"Daddy, do you do what mommy do's?" Logan asked serenely while floating on his back in the tub.

"What," I said, not knowing what to make of this question.

"The legs," he replied and he threw his legs over his head and kicked out.  "The bath," he said.  "You know...uno dos," and he kicked his legs into the air again.

I don't know, but you certainly have my attention.  Wow.  I see your lips moving but I have no idea what you're saying.  Clearly this was supposed to hold all kinds of meaning for me.  On the other hand, if that's how mommy...okay, focus!

"Logan, what are we talking about?"

I wonder how many times I've asked that question of one boy or another over the past eleven years.

"Uno, dos, tres, cuatro..." he continued to count up and down in Spanish.

Alright, I'm starting to get a picture here...I'm not very good at charades, even when someone is giving me clues.  Your mother has started a foreign language exercise program in the tub?  Somehow I doubt it.

Come to find out that Logan likes to count the number of cups of water that mommy pours over his head to wash out the shampoo - in Spanish.  The leg kicking was just an added touch.  I can see that we're going to need a little coaching on how to ask a proper question.  Daddy would very much appreciate the details necessary to prevent him from making a fool of himself.  I will never cease to be fascinated by how their little minds work.  And I will never cease to be puzzled and amused by how my own little mind works either.  Hey, I eventually caught on, didn't I?

- 1 February 2012

Soul Training

Justin has always been fascinated by the news.  While I'm certain that part of the reason is because the news is all that is allowed on television in the mornings before school, I do know that he sincerely enjoys it.  It's neat to have discussions about current events with him.  This morning he came and found me while I was getting dressed for work.

"Hey, Dad."

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever heard of Soul Train?"

Yes, I'm old.

"Yes."

"Oh.  He died."

Run that by me again.  I'm not sure I caught that last bit.  I know you didn't just tell me that soul had died.

"What?"

"On the news.  They said that that guy named Soul Train died."

I think he was genuinely disappointed that I didn't seem more interested, or shocked, or something.  After all, he had taken the time to come inform me of what I'm sure he thought was something an old person like me would be grateful to know.

Justin, I really enjoy discussing the news with you.  Why don't you go back and listen to that story again and see if you can spot the reason I looked confused and then laughed.

- 1 February 2012