I Need to Find a Place

After being sick for several days I finally consented to go to the walk-in clinic. Ashley stayed at home with Justin and Logan (then less than two months old) and I took Ethan.  Having checked in, we were asked the usual questions.  What are your symptoms?  How long have you been sick?  Who should we notify in case you die from the wait?

As you can imagine, there are few activities that a five-year-old would find diverting.  Thankfully, Ethan managed to find entertainment in several of the waiting room magazines.  Now, had I been in a more human state, it may have come to my attention sooner that Ethan was not interested in the magazines but moreover the paper inserts.  It wasn't until he had shredded nearly all of them into very tiny pieces and confettied the floor that I realized what was happening.

"Ethan! What are you doing?" I exclaimed.
"I shredded these papers," he happily explained.
"Why are they all over the floor?"
"Because I dropped them."

Can't argue with logic.

"Ethan, you need to pick all of this up. Every bit, okay?"
"Okay dad."

He worked very hard to pick up each and every tiny little scrap.  Once he had finished he brought the handful of paper to me and, having been unsuccessful in locating a garbage can, announced to the crowded room,

"I need to find a place to dump all this crap!"

Well, it looks like I won't die waiting after all.  I think that just took care of it.

- 20 October 2008

Fingernails

"Okay Dad, but don't cut the fingernails on my feetsies."

- 20 March 2011

Dog License

The boy's hair is getting woolly. Indeed, they are beginning to resemble sheep dogs. So, in order to avoid having to buy them each a license, I told them Friday that they had two days to say goodbye...Sunday would be haircut day.  As if on cue, the usual dramatics and carrying on commenced.

"What will our friends say?" one asked.

Probably, "hello, nice to see you...where have you been all year?"

"This is very bad for our self esteem. Don't you care about us?" the other one asked.

Of course I care about you, Cousin It, but I am certain that you will emerge from your tonsorial experience with your young psyche intact. Today, they migrated their pleas for deliverance to their mother because they knew, as far as I was concerned, the discussion was closed. Ashley kept assuring them that it wouldn't be cut too short but would simply be tidied up.  At dinner, Ashley pointed at both boys and made clear that they had better do a terrific job cleaning their hair in the shower tonight or tomorrow there would be buzz cuts.  This announcement was met with complete silence as they pondered this proposal (threat).  Meanwhile, I arranged a semi-evil grin on my face and said, tongue-in-cheek,

"Well, if you like my hairdo then you have nothing to worry about." 

Immediately Logan piped up.

"Daaad...you don't have any hair."

Thank you Logan.

- 1 October 2011

High Brow Cuisine

"Mom! Dad! I love this octopus!"

Too bad it was only lasagna.

- 27 February 2011

Stream of Consciousness

This morning, when I got into the car, I turned the radio on at a low volume.  It all started when the conversation with Logan had reached a stalemate after I told him that I didn't wish to continue the "potty words discussion" he had been so eager to launch in the house.  My irritation was due, in part, to Justin egging him on which Logan found to be completely agreeable...and I did not.  I told Justin off as I struggled to wrestle Logan's wiggling feet into his shoes.  The last thing I saw was Justin thundering down the hall shouting,

"My plan is working!" while the sound of maniacal laughter reverberated off the walls.

During the car trip a commercial began to play...something about mattresses or diapers or seafood.  The announcer had a very low voice but there was nothing notable apart from that.  I could see Logan's face in the rear view mirror as it began to work itself into an expression of great concern.

"Daddy?  What's that?"
"You mean the voice?"
"Ya."
"It's the radio."

There was a struggle to process this information.

"Where is it?"
"It's coming out of the speakers behind you."

Now there was a struggle to turn in his car seat and locate these magic talking boxes.

"You can't see them," I explained.
"What color are their eyes?" he asked.

Okay, I had better start paying more attention to this conversation because I think I missed something.

"Who?" I asked.
"Theirs," he said with a hint of exasperation.  Apparently I'm the dumb one.
"I don't know what color they are.  I can't see them.  Can you?"
"No," he said.
"Oh."  Good.

There was a moment of quiet reflection while I reviewed the conversation notes in my head and pulled into the driveway.  I got out and began to unfasten Logan's seat belt. 

"Is it dark?" he asked.

Umm, not in my world.

"No," I said.  "Is it dark wherever you are?"  I was beginning to wonder where that might be.
"No," he replied.

There was more semi-quiet reflection as he held my hand and we walked to the door.  I walked.  He skipped and flailed.

"Hey!  The sun is out!" he exclaimed as though we had just emerged from a bunker.

Well, that would certainly account for it not being dark.  Is this not the same sun that was out while we were in the car?  Logan, do you smell toast?

- 29 September 2011

Mad Scientist Career Path [Video]

We train 'em young.

- 4 March 2011

Teletubbies

"I like Teletubbies but I don't want any of my friends to know because they might think I'm weird."

I wish I could have 8-year-old problems again.

- 21 January 2009