Just for Effect

"Logan?  Logan!" I shouted.

From down the hall came the sound of more than just running water.  Hand washing is one thing.  The Festival of the Waters is something else entirely.  Logan appeared in the living room, hands dripping.

"Don't annoy me when I'm going potty," he scolded.

Really.  Really?  Only if you promise not to annoy me when you're not going potty.

"Go back to your room.  You're supposed to be there because you were being mean and rude," Ashley reminded him.

Logan marched down the hall and slammed his bedroom door.  Immediately, there was a long, slow creak as he attempted to stealthily re-open it.  In truth, he might just as well have set off a bomb for all the stealth he accomplished...but in his mind he was extremely furtive.

"Mean life!" he muttered.

- 28 June 2012

Permission

"Wait!  Why do you have that?  Who gave you permission?" I asked of Logan, who had just appeared at the dinner table holding an newly opened pudding cup.

"I gave permission to myself."

- 28 June 2012

Zu Zu Pet Cemetery

"Dad, are you sooo excited that I found all three of my Zu Zu pets?"

You mean those ridiculous gurgling rats that are constantly zipping around under foot as they merrily snap at our ankles and then laugh about it?  Oh, yes...so excited.

- 26 June 2012

How Come?

"Dad, how come you up and downed my cheeks?"

Mostly because I am me and they were there.

- 26 June 2012

Here's Hoping

I was initially alarmed by this declaration, as it arrived in the middle of a bath.  Luckily, the two events were entirely unrelated, although I did check the water for suspicious looking "bath toys."

"I'm going poop night and day," Logan excitedly announced.

Hooray for MiraLAX®, random thoughts and being only half right...I hope.

- 24 June 2012

Hurry Up, Quicker

"Justin, you must stop wearing undershirts around like regular shirts.  They're too small and you have so many regular shirts.  How do I get that to happen?"

"You can't," he said, scurrying off in the opposite direction.

"Oh yes I can!"

There followed a two minute period during which Ashley presented t-shirt after t-shirt from within his dresser, only to be summarily rebuffed.

"It's just a movie, Mom, not a fashion show.  Stop!  Mom!  You're messing up all my folding."

Yes, Ashley, after all, remember his school picture.  Stop trying to make him seem like some sort of roughneck, scoundrel or hooligan.  Wait...that isn't right, is it?  Egad, I'm starting to have flashbacks.  Go get him, Ashley!

- 24 June 2012

I Win

"I'm going to go ride my bike."

"No, you're not."

"How come?"

"You're not going by yourself."

"How come?"

"I don't have to give you a reason."

"Yes, you do."

"I am your father and I said so.  That's why."

"You're not my father."

"Well, you're still not going.  See how that works?"

- 24 June 2012

Beep Beep

"The guy on the TV said, 'beep beep' and runned away fast...and The Big Wolf."

This one took me a moment to figure out.  It finally dawned on me that we were talking about The Roadrunner and Wile E Coyote.

- 21 May 2012

Research Findings

In order to help Logan use the potty at the local grocery store in a manner that would allow me to feel comfortable for the rest of our visit and allow his mother to feel comfortable without donning a biohazard suit, I was forced to suspend the boy over the toilet while he accomplished his task.  Since I was doing most of the work with my trapeze act, this left Logan free to do other things...like present the findings of his biology research.

"All the water coming out my penis."

"Um, yes, I see it," I said, with a roll of my eyes.

"It's all the water that goes down my tummy and out my penis through this little hole."

Yes, I know.  Thank you and, by the way, let's just keep that to ourselves for now, eh?  We don't need to share or discuss that with the bakery clerk, the produce man, the checkers, the lady on aisle seven...

- 11 June 2012

Thumbs Up for Summer

Summer made a bright and beautiful appearance.  A trip to the local frozen yogurt shop seemed like the perfect way to celebrate.  And by celebrate, I mean it was Wednesday.  The drive was, of course, the usual lively affair.  All three boys were wet, having just finished "washing" the car, and everyone was excited.

"Dad, do the people at the yogurt store allow boys with wet clothes?" Logan asked, with an edge of concern.

"Yes, Logan."

"Do they allow boys with owies?"

"Yes, Logan.  They allow boys with wet clothes, owies, eyelashes, elbows, freckles and shoes on the wrong feet," I assured him.

"But no earwigs," Ashley added.

As his older brothers began to join in, Logan fell silent, assumedly to concentrate on putting his shoes back on the correct feet.

"Dad?  Do they allow boys with thumbs?" he asked with renewed unease.  "`Cause I have two!"

Oh, too bad.  You'll have to leave one in the car.

- 20 June 2012

Evidently

I hate being interrupted in the middle of watching my favorite television program, The Captain Obvious Show.

"Why do you smell all farty?" Ashley asked Logan.

"'Cause I farted."

Uncanny.  Tune in next week when we attempt to discover why my delicious turkey sandwich smells like deli meat.

- 6 June 2012

Smarter Than a 5th Grader

For the past two days, the older boys have been clamoring to get up on the garage and clean out the gutters...so they say.  What they really want is to horse around on the roof and they think that cleaning out the gutters will be their "in" with me.

"Enough!" I shouted, while they bobbed around me like enormous puppies as I attempted to cross the yard.  "I just got home from work and I have to barbecue dinner.  No one is getting up on the roof."

They immediately broke ranks and vanished.  Still dressed for work and muttering, I wandered over to the patio and started the barbecue.  When I had finished, I began to make my way back to the house.  It was little wonder that I found myself crossing paths with Justin and Ethan, going in the opposite direction and carrying a ladder - Logan in tow.

"Logan, stay off the ladder," I warned.  "Your brothers are about to be stupid and you're smarter than that."

"Dad," he wailed.  "No I'n [sic] not."

- 18 June 2012

Party Rockets [Video]

LMFAO, meet Logan.

"Party rockets in the kitchen tonight.  Everybody just have a good time."

- 16 May 2012

Fathers' Day

Today is my twelfth Father's Day.  While I may only have three biological children, it has been my experience that being a father figure is not limited to my boys alone.  The same can be said for other friends of mine (also fathers) with regard to my sons.  It all boils down to whether or not you believe the African proverb, "It takes a whole village to raise a child."  I do - wholeheartedly.

Certainly, the man I have become is due, primarily, to my own father...but not exclusively.  I will have the greatest influence over the men that Justin, Ethan and Logan will become, of that we can be sure, but don't we already have one of me?  Three more just seems...unnecessary.

I am, of course, excited to see their journey and transformation.  The challenge will be to move my ego out of the way long enough to realize that incorporating other male influences will only serve to enhance their characters and not dilute or diminish my position as their father.  We shall see.  Fathers are very proud creatures and guard, with an animal instinct, the effect they have over their own children...and we're not very big on ego reduction exercises.

Still and all, it continues to happen.

Take, for instance, my best friend's son.  Every time I see him, all he wants to do is hold my fingers.  Two are all he can manage to hang on to.  We do not talk...he does not share...we simply enjoy each other's company and he holds onto two of my fingers.  I can recall a time when I had to maneuver around a tree because his mother was holding him and he was holding my fingers...and not letting go.

In a similar fashion, my two oldest boys are constantly talking about things they need to ask, or share with, Jeff the next time they see him.  They have a mental  laundry list.  Logan, on the other hand, frequently asks about the color of Jeff's house.  This may seem more of a humorous element than anything else, but it serves to show the importance of how someone else's life connects to his own.

"What color is it now?  What color was it during brefcast [breakfast]?  What color will it be on Tuesday?"

Like it or not, we are the rest of the village to each other's children.  May God give us the strength and guidance to be the very best villagers.

The Plan

This morning, I found myself standing on the roof with Justin and Ethan, debating about the best way to simultaneously defy death and bring about a successful end to my pruning project.  One thing was certain, all current plans ended with a trip to the emergency room and I was seriously considering searching the Yellow Page listings for acrobatic gardening troupes.

I had just sent a text to my best friend to see if he would be able to drop by and help.  My thinking was that, either we would be able to make a go of it together or, our wives would be able to save money on a double burial.

As I finished outlining the most reasonable and least catastrophic plan with the boys, Justin turned to me.

"Please don't die.  You're my only dad."

The explanation of how one or more of us would most likely be dragged or catapulted off the roof by the rebounding branch was still fresh in the air.

"Thanks," I said.

"You would be hard to replace.  Dads are not easy to rent.  There are a lot of forms," he continued.

At that moment, the telephone in my pocket began to ring.  There I stood, on the roof with my sons,  talking on the telephone.  What?!  I do that every Friday morning.  When I hung up the phone a minute later, I found myself in the middle of what was evidently a conversation about ways to prevent my wife from remarrying after my imminent demise.

"Here's what we can tell them," Justin said to Ethan, referring to her potential suitors.  "She was married seven times before and all of the guys ended up buried in the basement, decapitated."

"She likes to eat cats," he added.

"She doesn't like puppies," Ethan chimed in.

Well done boys.  I always say, it's good to have a plan.  Best of luck.

- 15 June 2012

Mistaken Identity

Sometimes I forget.  It's a fact - do with it what you will.  What I forgot tonight is that Logan has a better understanding of the world than I give him credit for.

Once again, swimming lessons had ended and we were walking to the car.  Something jogged my memory and I started to share a piece of bad news with the boys.

Only hours earlier, we learned of the passing of a friend with whom we had a long standing annual engagement at the Balloon Stampede.  When I told them that Claudia had died, they didn't immediately recognize her name.  In their defense, we only saw her once a year and it was her granddaughter that the boys knew from school.  So, I told them that this was Olivia's grandmother.  While this was enough to satisfy the older boys, it was Logan who only heard the words "Olivia", "mother" and "died".

I forgot that Logan also knows Olivia - a different Olivia.

Immediately, there commenced a complete 3-year-old panic.  His Olivia's mother had died and, after all, his Olivia was one of the famed Favorite Best Friends.  This would simply not do.  Something needed to be done.  Undoubtedly, Olivia needed a mother but, more importantly, play dates would most certainly be hampered. 

It took me a few seconds to recover, after being completely side-swiped by this wave of confusion, and took most of the ride home to unwind the gigantic panicky knot.  For a moment, it looked as though I would have to drive him to their house and prove to him that their mother was still alive.  I can only imagine what would have happened if I had done so and Erin hadn't been home.

Good grief!

- 11 June 2012

Sleep Timer

Logan came rushing out of his room, down the hall and into the living room.

"Dad, my radio is out of batteries," he breathlessly explained.

"No, little boy, the radio is not out of batteries.  It's called a sleep timer...as in, why in heaven's name are you out of bed and not asleep?!"

Too bad I can't install one of those timers on you.

- 10 May 2012

Distracted

"Logan, what do you want for dinner?" Ashley asked, hoping to get a decent idea from at least one of us.

"PP&J," he replied.

??

"Logan, do you have to go potty?" I asked.

"Yes."

Ahh.  So your dancing would suggest.

- 6 June 2012

Just Lie to Me

Honesty is the best policy.  That fact has been ingrained in our subconscious since the time we could wipe the drool from our own chins.  On the other hand, it is my assertion that, from time to time, allowances must be made for the little white lie.  Sadly, I have no one to blame but myself when I have failed to convey anything but the hard-line policy of "honesty first, honesty always."

When you're 11 years old, hanging out with your parents is just not as fun as it used to be.  Certainly, our entertainment value is degrading as I write, but that doesn't mean we are completely without any diverting qualities.  However, if you want to leave and you're going to leave, just spare our feelings and get on with it.

"You're boring.  I'm going to go chew on a fork."

Thank you, Justin.  About that white lie...now would be good.

- 17 May 2012

Excuse Me, Miss?

"Dad, I call the sprayer thing, Miss Tinkles."

- 3 June 2012

Adventures in Space

There is a reason that God created both the long-term and short-term memory.  That reason is so that we don't become shut-ins because we cannot shake the memory of the last time we took our children out in public.  There may also be a subconscious reason that we don't go out in public unless we're out of town.

While visiting the Space Needle over the holiday weekend it became necessary to employ the following request.

"Please stop molesting the infrastructure," I instructed Ethan, who was positioned, quite unflatteringly, over a cross-beam sticking up out of the floor.  Let's just leave it at that.

This was the point in our visit, when my wife turned to me and said,

"Not only is that not the first time you have said that to Ethan, but you really need to simplify."

That was a very polite way of saying, "talk to that 9-year-old like he's nine...not like he's you."

"Like this," she said, turning to Logan.  "Stop poking that lady's butt!"  The commandment coming after the third prodding but before parachutes were issued and we were unceremoniously dropped over the edge.

- 26 May 2012

The Never Ending Question

I am certain that both of his brothers were the same but I have apparently blocked out that particular memory as a defense mechanism.  Logan's questions have become so long that they are nearly impossible to answer.

Case in point - the ride to the orchestra concert this evening.

"Dad, are we taking Justin to orchestra that we can drop him like we do in the morning everyday at his new school in the truck like you do before you take me to Joyce's before you go to work so he can play his cello and I can watch with you and Mommy and Ethan and then go to Blue Palm for dessert?"

"Yah - I don't know - wait, what?" I said distractedly.

Jehoshaphat!  Never mind, never mind, never mind...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!  Please don't ask me again.

- 30 May 2012

Inconvenient Education

In preparation for the long-awaited arrival of our new couch, I roped my best friend and the boys into helping me haul the old furniture out of the basement and into the garage.  When Ashley came down to survey the nearly empty family room, she held her arms out and started to spin in a circle.

"There's so much room.  There are so many things we could do!" she exclaimed, still twirling.

Being a boy, my brain instantly came up with no fewer than a dozen things that we could do, as well - none of which carried less than a PG-13 rating and many of which carried a higher rating than that.  Giving Ashley a knowing look and a sly wink, I said so - out loud.

I was unaware, however, that we were not alone.

From inside my preschooler's pop-up play tent, standing in the corner, emerged Justin's newly enlightened 11-year-old head.

"Dad!  Gross!"

*sigh*

- 3 June 2012

More Questions Than Answers

If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times - nothing about my life comes as a surprise.  This afternoon was no different. 

If you will recall, my post from Christmas Eve 2011 brought to light the mysterious defiling of fake fruit arrangements.  While many questions surrounding that incident remain unanswered to this day, we did find out one thing - there was only one grape.

Six months on, I found myself digging up some unwanted shrubbery in the back yard next to the house.  The soil, being heavily laden with river rocks, produced another curious item.  There, at the end of my shovel, lay not one, but three plastic green grapes, having been relocated from their previous home.  Apparently, The Grape was not only uninterested in making a solo adventure of the 115 mile journey but was too tired to come into the house and opted, instead, for a dirt nap.

Oh, Ethan?  I have a couple of questions.

- 2 June 2012

Methods Engineering

Logan and I left the grocery store, hand in hand, and began making our way to the truck.  I was absorbed in a thorough examination of the receipt, the total of which seemed oddly high having only purchased three items, so it took me a moment to realize that something was hampering our progress.  There seemed to be a sharp and repeated jerking motion of my right arm, to which the boy was attached.  When I looked down, I was just in time to see Logan leap off the ground with both feet kicking up behind him.

"Logan, what are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm kicking my own butt," he replied, repeating the motion.

Of course you are.

"I like kicking my own butt."

Of course you do.  Who doesn't?  Let's just remember this the next time you're in trouble.  And all these years I've been doing it the hard way.

- 1 June 2012

Dirty Look

Only one son wanted to accompany me to the hardware store.  This particular errand, while one of my personal favorites, is a mixed bag when it comes to the boys.  The resulting level of frustration, enjoyment and/or near death experiences (mine and theirs) is entirely dependant on the boy, the day of the week, the time and the lunar cycle.

Tonight, all was well.  Logan was happy and we took turns picking out the things that we wanted to accomplish.  He was very patient while I fiddled around and I was appreciative.

Our last stop before heading home was the nail aisle.  Being completely immersed in my task, I temporarily lost visual contact with Logan but I knew he was still in the vicinity because I could hear his running commentary as he padded up and down behind me.  Thus far, the septuagenarian couple sharing the aisle with us had failed to register a complaint so I figured we were in the clear.

I knew that my window of opportunity would be closing soon.  Indeed, it had been open far longer than I had expected, but I was desperate not to abandon this project and be forced to return in the morning.  Narrowing down a thousand choices, after all, is no mean feat.

By the skin of my teeth, I located the box of nails I was after right as the window slammed shut.  Logan came running up behind me carrying something.

"Dad, I got screwed!" he shouted, holding out some bolts the length of his arm for me to see.

Yes, I see that you have a handful of screws.  I had already seen the scandalized look in my mind's eye so I didn't bother to look up at the couple standing ten feet away, though I did hear an audible gasp from that general direction.

Please stop shouting and help me find the exit.

- 1 June 2012