It's Your Mom, Dude!

Sometimes the Boy just isn't as far out of earshot as you're hoping.

Her, leaning close to me: "I bought a little sexy something, if you want to see it later."

Him: "Can we see it now?"

Left on the Desktop

Me:  "What time does your flight leave in the morning?"

Her:  "7:30."

"Ugh, that means I have to wake up at, like, 5."

"Yeah."

"Well, that sucks.  It's like," (reading from the monitor) "of, pertaining to, involving, or near the anus."

"Huh?"

"What is this?"

"Ohhh...I was looking up something."

"Up what?"

Paying It Forward

"...."

"..ngrruh..?"

"I said, I can't believe that asshole."

"..huunh..?"

"The casino neighbor guy.  He was dragging his garbage bin across the gravel out to the curb at two freaking a.m.  I could hear him over the monitor from the baby's room."

"..eeh..?"

"It woke me up, and now I can't fall asleep."

"..ockaaysh.."

"Are you even listening to me?  Are you even awake?"

Man Wipes?

Us, on travel: "We changed the baby.  Where can we toss the used wipes?"

Them: "Aren't they flushable?  Like my man-wipes?"

How Cold Was It?

Her, driving: "Ugh, who did that?"

"Me, sorry."  I reach toward the window control.

"No!  No, I'd rather just smell it than be cold."

Stuck in the Upright, Locked Position

She stands up. For every occasion. "Okay, naptime." POP. "No, lay down for naptime." POP. "Dammit, stop that." POP. Argh.

I'd just leave her there, but sitting back down is a skill not yet mastered. "Umm...stuck. Legs getting tired. Hello? Losing my grip here. Anyone?"

Give Me a A-W-K-W-A-R-D!

"Anything you want to donate to Good Will before the end of the year?"
"Uhh, sure. Here's a shirt and pants."
"You are not getting rid of that sexy shirt."
"It was my Halloween costume."
"And it's going to be your 'cheerleader' costume on home movie night. Rawr. Go hang it up."

Eeek! Stop That!

"Aww.  Here's Daddy, stumbling in with my bottle for a 6am feeding.  How sweet.  I should do something for him, to make him feel appreciated.  I know!  I'll stroke his nipples lovingly while I suckle the bottle."

You! Alright? I Learned It by Watching You!

"Stop biting your nails, son."

Her Whole New Tack

"You know what I think is sexy?  When you put your DVD cases away."

You Realize You Aren't Saying Anything, Right?

"Ah-Fa-Ba-Na-Ga-Ta-Ma-Da"

Nod understandingly and provide encouraging feedback.  "You don't say.  Well, that is fascinating."

Pain in the Ass

WHUMP!

The wife and I look at each other.  What was that?

Scene:  The Boy's room.  Enter:  Me.  He's sprawled out at an odd angle atop the bow of his boatbed.  "What's up?"

He just lays there, all cool, like, Yeah, I'm just chillin' on this thing here.  "Mommy polished this wood today."

"Yes?"

"It's all slippery."

"Did you fall?"

The embarrasing secret is out.  He starts to cry.  "I hurt my butt."

Hello. May I tickle your nuts?

I was holding the baby against my chest.  We were in Baby Gap.  She was in a good mood.  The women were melting.  One busty young* thing with a sexy thick Castillian accent leans in close.  "Ohhh, hello, aren't you so happy!"

And then she swoops in.  Palm up, gently cupping.... Closer...closer....  It's not often that strange, sober girls just reach in like that.  I actually jumped back a bit, giggling.  What are you grabbin' for there, lady?

She really liked the little shoes.  Ollie'll be wearing them more often.

*"Was she really busty and young?"  "It's my blog...and yes."

Quote of the Day

"I am not making you bacon for a snack."

"Words, words, words."

Verbs, use at your own risk.

"Come go potty."

"What does that mean, Daddy?"

"I don't know."

A Subtle Change

We've reached a point where disappointment has shifted from intangible, "alas, the injustice of the world, boo hoo" to concrete, damnable blame: "You!  You did this!"

Now I See

We met the boy's kindergarten teacher last night.
"Oh, hi, it's so nice to meet you! The TA and I just love what you put in his lunches every day. We think it's hilarious."
"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, ha ha."

Later, discretely to the wife: "What do we put in his lunches every day?"
"Raw spinach and whole wheat cous cous. Why?"

It Makes Perfect Sense to Me

Me, smacking my teeth, "Ugh, I don't like this new kind of Cheez-Its you bought. They're all gooey in my teeth."
"Why don't you brush?"
"Because I don't want all this sticky crap in my toothbrush."

It Makes No Sense to Me

I walked in on her pumping something into her bath water.
Me, looking at the bottle, "Did you just put acne wash into the tub?"
"We're out of bubble bath."

Mmm, Baby

Me, scooching close lovingly on the sofa, "Ouch, what did you do to your hand?"
"Hmm? Oh. It must be from my nose." Pause. "What?"
"It would have been infinitely sexier had you said, 'I cut my finger.'"

This is SO Going in My Blog!

"Jason, can you help me find my sunglasses? I'm going crazy looking everywhere. I mean, like, everywhere, except the compost pile."

Creak. Plod plod plod. Hmm. Dig dig.

"Found 'em."

Right there, in the pile. I'm a hero. True story.

Indubitably

"But Daddy, some foods don't make poop."
"No. If it goes in, it has to go out."
"Indeed."
"In...deed?"

In My Mind

Target is morphing into Hazzard County so slowly that we aren't meant to notice. Have you listened to their walkie conversations lately?

"Available cashiers to the front, please."
"Operator, come back."
"Cooter, have you got your ears on?"
"Bo Peep, this is Lost Sheep. That dipstick Cletus is hot on our tail. We'll lose him at the Boar's Nest, there's an overturned hay cart we can jump. Yeee-haw."

*Halfway through this post, I thought maybe I should present my alternative 'CHiPs' theory. "7-Mary-4, do you copy?"

Girl-Inept, but The Wife Still Likes Me for Some Reason

The scene: A female, I don't know why, is chatting me up.
"So, did you do anything exciting this weekend?"
"Uh, no. Just read."
"Ooo, anything good?"

Option 1: The truth! But Polgara the Sorcereress is a sure-fire girl-conversation killer. Go for something else. She looks like a smart, philosophical type. Think!

"The Fountainhead."
"Oh. Isn't that, like, set in the future or something?" Pleasant conversation ends here.

Insert Pac-Man death sound effects.

At Least I've Still Got You

I was listening to the baby screech because, well, that's what was on. An intense, anguished squeal it was.

Me: "You know what it sounds like? You know when the Nazgul are decending on Minas Tirith and--"
Her: "No, I don't." Exit, kitchen right.

Well, anyway, it sounded like that.

Wrong!

When did we buy this lunch meat? Was it before vacation, or after we got back? Surely after.

Observing Jason

Her: "You're prettier in color."

Travel

Me, thinking ahead: "Should we pack some condoms?"
Her: "I packed four."

That's an awfully precise number. Not some. Not a few. Not five-ish. Not a handful. Like jellybeans, some things are just awkward when counted individually.

There's STILL a Placenta in my Fridge!?!

Me: "Dearest?"
Her: "Yes, shnookums?"
"What's this red bio-hazard bag in the freezer?"

Complimentary Ringtones

I saw a web banner, and immediately imagined my own cell phone:

"Hey, gorgeous."
"You are so funny."
"Have you been working out?"

I'd wish more people would call me.

I'm Not Famous Yet

I'm stealing this idea from another blogger who did it a while back, but I thought it was an interesting experiment. So many people have real substance or insight to their writings, whereas my rambling are ... well, the inanity makes me giggle, so that's why I jot it all down. So, it's interesting to see how people accidentally fall into this backwoods mire of the blogoshpere (cue up the Dueling Banjos).

"illusion teatime" - HEY! I'm Google's first hit! *wipes a tear* I realize now that it's because I botched up the Douglas Adams quote. Hooray for me.

"portuganlish" - I'm the only Google hit. Isn't there some sort of contest along those lines? I win! Someone give me a handful of jellybeans.

"sloppy jimbo" - It's weird that I come in above any Simpsons references. Weirder still is the first hit; urbandictionary.com. Quoth the definition: 'The act in which u give a handjob with sloppy joe mix as a lube. As in: Dude Sally gave me a sloppy jimbo lastnight.' (sic) End quote. Words fail me.

"tapping the fishbowl" - probably not what the poor guy was expecting.

And many others that are more or less too boring to mention.

Swim Class

"Ok, who can tell me some good pool rules?"
Not-my-kid raises his hand enthusiastically: "No running."
"Very good. Any others?"
Another not-my-kid raises her hand enthusiastically: "No rough-housing."
"Excellent. Anyone else?"
My kid raises his hand enthusiastically: "I don't have any."
"Oookay. Anyone else?"
Also my kid: "But I did bring goggles!"

Baby Steps

Thumb in mouth. Pleasant.
Thumb in eye. Unpleasant.
Thumb in mouth. Pleasant.
Thumb in eye. Unpleasant.
Hmm...let's review the options.
Thumb in mouth....

Babies and Stooges, funny in about the same way.

I'm Back, Baby!

I'll ease back into it slowly. Funny quotes that I've come across over the past couple years that I've taken the time to write down:

"Second highest first half revenue for the first time ever!" - on a promotional banner, proudly hanging over the entrance to my work.

"If we can't get this working, we'll be flopping around like a dead fish."
"Dead fish don't flop." - heard in the lab.

"Is [Option A] better than [Option B]?"
"It's hard to say. I'd call it a throw up." - seen in online chat.

"Don't be so hippocratic." - said by some politico blowhard, deriding someone he thought was dumber than him. I think this proved him wrong.

"I got it too. This must be going ever were." - who says engineers aren't good writers? (Some of us are.)

"Please request assistance when pertaining to fish." - just...odd.

"Set goals. You need to be aspirating." - motivational speech. I was motivated to breathe heavier.

Haircut: The Works

Fade in. Establishing shot: The interior of a cheap-ass hair-cutting salon. Aaaand...Action!

Start in tight on the boy getting his haircut. Perfect.

Now, pan upwards to the blonde stylist. You are in the moment, you are cutting hair. Project! Yes, I can feel it, make me feel it.

Pull back. Mom and Dad are there. Good. Good. Uh oh, Dad has noticed something off screen. Pull back. I want suspense, I want drama.

What's this? A fat stylist, non-chalant, at the next station. Give me non-chalant. More non-chalant! Now, pick up that big electric razor. Study it. Now, your arm. Back to the razor in your other hand. Arm again. Now, slowly, slowly the two shall meet, star-crossed lovers at the balcony. Give us lust, give us intensity. Now! Shave that arm!

Yes! That's it. Start with a quick kiss, razor to wrist. Now, lingering. The razor caresses the arm, farther up. Farther. Deeper now, more intent. Thrust! Up, up the arm.

But, you aren't satisfied with mere forearm play. You want it, you want it bad, you fat bitch. Get the elbow! More aggressive. Dig. Right in there, push through every fold, dig through the flabby elbow skin. Nothing may keep the two apart.

Ok, ok, let's cool things off a bit. Bring us back to the moment. Quick dissolve to the blonde stylist. And....

"Ermmm. Are you...on the clock?"
"Neh. Still on my lunch." Don't break the moment. Keep shaving!
"Uhhh, could you go to the back room and...change the radio station, please?" I love the subtlety!
"In a sec."

Back to the heat! Arm up, over your head, shave that tricky underside! Yes! Yes! Go! Do it! Yes!

And I'm spent. Let's wipe ourselves down with that little brush. Leisurely, give me more leisure. Yes, up and down each arm. Don't forget the breasts. Your stubbly has certainly mussied your breasts. That's it. Yeah.

And now: Back to business. Call your next customer! "Dennis?"

Dennis, give us a little start. That's it, yes. Show us, make us know. Look around. You want desperately to be somewhere else.

And, scene.

Isn't It Like Tapping on a Fishbowl?

"Do you want to feel the baby move?"

Quality Time with the Wife

"Remember four months ago when your soup exploded in the microwave and you didn't clean it up?"
"I have been sooo farty lately. Not stinky-farty, just air-farty. Do you know what I mean?"
"Are my nipples leaking?"

What's on YOUR Nightstand?

"Have you seen my vibrator anywhere?"
"No."
"Oh, here it is. Next to the peanut butter."

Education

"I got the question today, about how the baby got in my tummy."
"Oh?"
"I told him: Daddy and I humped really hard."
"You told him what?"
"Daddy and I hugged really hard."
"Ooohhhh."
"What did you think I said?"

We Can Dance, But We Don't Want To

I was listening to Safety Dance -- because you can't not listen to Safety Dance when it is on -- and I decided: I would, in fact, love to surprise someone with a victory cry. HAH! I WIN!

Time is an Illusion, Teatime Doubly So

I had a meeting at 9:30. I emaild everyone and said, "can we push it forward to 10:00?"

Apparently everyone showed up at 9:00 and discussed how rude it was for me to move a meeting and then not show up. Their side of the story? "You said 'forward'."

Things You Don't Know

"Honey, I need a new bar of soap."

"It's here in the -- ugh, you smell like ass."

"Well, in a few short minutes, I hope to smell more like Lever 2000. And shampoo. Conditioner. That oatmeal gunk you put on your face that you don't think I use but I do sometimes because frankly it makes my boys minty-tingly."

"What?"

"Nothing."

How Is Your Lab Work Going, Jason?

Lord Dark Helmet said it best: "Fuck! Even in the future nothing works."

Whatever, Freak

"Daddy, I'm hungry."
"Ok, let's make some grilled cheeses. Does that sound good?"
"Uh. No. Let's have apples and soy milk."
"You spend too much time with Mommy."

Cravings?

"Oh! Can we go to the steakhouse for dinner?"
"Ok, sure."
------
"Hi, can I just have a side salad, please?"
???

A Night's Adventure

"Smoke Detector 2, this is Smoke Detector 1. Do you copy?"
"Roger. It is nearly dawn."
"Affirmative. We are GO for Operation: Meaningless Annoyances."
"Very well. Begin Phase 1."
CHIRP
"Note the subject seems confused. Is he dreaming? His eyes close, he begins to drift off again."
CHIRP
"At this point the subject realizes the stimulus is real. And he thinks he may be able to sleep through it."
CHIRP
"Ah, an expletive. Write that down, we'll look it up later. Aha! He's up. Begin Phase 2: Misdirection. Note how the high-pitched wail echos off the walls as he searches for the source."
CHIRP
"Where is he going?"
"Ahh, young one, you have much to learn. We have strategicially placed ourselves just out of reach. And the step ladder is in the garage."
"Ooo. Brilliantly inconvenient."
"Indeed."
"Here he is. Why the limp?"
"I suspect he stubbed his toe. Rather badly, I should say."
CHIRP
"He's got a firm grip on Detector 2. They are going down! The battery is removed. O! those poor bastards."
"Let's have a moment's silence in rememberance."
"He's back in bed."
"Wait for it."
"Ready for Phase 3?"
"Wait for it."
CHIRP
"More expletives incoming."
"Got 'em."
"Ha! He's accidentally woken the gestating female. Enjoy the fireworks."

Animal, He Has Become

He's crazy as a muppet on his new drum kit.

Some chains, crazy hair, throw in a growled "WO-MAN!" Can You Picture That, Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem?

Maybe some rhythm too. "Be a better drummer / Be an up and comer / Can you picture that?"

Oh, man, now that's going to be in my head all day.

Movin' Right Along.... aww, damn.

Baby Names: In-Law's Opinions

The Wife: "What do you guys think of -----?"
Her Dad: "I like Ann."

Baby Names: Parent's Opinions

"Don't pick one that's so hard to pronounce."

Baby Names: Teacher's Opinions

"Sometimes when I'm writing The Boy's name on his artwork, I have to stop and think how to spell it. Is the next one going to be easier?"

Girl Shopping

I am freaked out by little girls' clothes. They are all frilly. They all say something dumb. It's a shirt, not a get well card. "Little Diva." "Crib Queen." "Someday My Prince Will Come." Blech.

Claude Shannon tells us that given a statistical spread of possible messages, the most information is transferred when the message is least expected. (I googled around forever trying to find a concise quote, but you'll just have to deal with my paraphrasing.)

Therefore, if it absolutely must say something, I want my little girl to wear a shirt that says something totally whacked out. Where do I find those?

----

Browsing around with the wife. You can only wander so far before you get out of the infant girls' stuff and into the older girls' stuff. She holds up a teeny blue bra thing that someday my daughter could be wearing. Creepy.

"This is the size I was wearing when we met," she says. Had there been a window nearby I would have screamed and leapt out. Seriously? How? In the dozen years I've known you, we progressed from that to the water balloon launchers laying about my bedroom?

Skeletor Rising

We got one of those 4-D color sonogram movies done. Ewww. She's much cuter in grainy black-and-white. Hope she gets over it.

An Innocent Statement

Watching the sonogram, baby's mouth is opening and closing. "Isn't that cute? She's practicing swallowing. Ow - what? Ohhh."

The Wonders of the Pregnant Brain

She's walking around in her underwear looking confused.

"What's up?"
"I had some pants on a minute ago."

It's...uhmm...Gonna be a Girl

We zoomed way, way, indecently way in to be sure. Couldn't have been more clear had she been sporting big ol hooters and a bundle of shopping bags. Definitely el feminito. Er...la femina. Portuganlish, oui.

A girl? Why did no one see this coming? Except for that one crazy lady at work, who said she thought I would be perfect for a girl's father, as I was -- and these are her words, not mine -- a girly man.

Suddenly, visions of buying gifts for my kids went from, "Hey Pops, will you buy me this kick-ass bass guitar?" to "Daddy, I reallyreallyreally need this Bratz vomitpink playset with prosti-tot accessories." Shudder.

I'm gonna be a horrible dad for a girl. Her only hope is if she happens to grow up as a lesbian goth chick.

"Daddy, can I have some money for these hella cool pink strappy sandals with sparklie bling 'hot stuff' lettering bedazzled on the sides?" Fuuuuuck no.

"Yo, I need some dough for black nail polish and an 'eat me' t-shirt." Here's a fifty, Pumpkin. Treat your friends to something nice too.

The More Direct Approach

"Mommy has a baby in her tummy. You're going to be a big brother."
"Oh, wow."
"Yep, isn't it exciting."
"Uh huh. How many minutes?"
"Well, it's going to be a while."
"Tomorrow?"

Breaking the News, Another Subtle Try

"Take a look at this."
"My baby bed?"
"Yep. This crib isn't getting much use lately. I bet we could find someone who would like to use it."
"The cats sleep in it."
Gonna be a tough nut to crack.

Breaking the News, Attempt 1

"Hey, G, come here a sec."
"What, Daddy?"
"Would you like a little baby in the house?"
"No. I already have Baby Elephant. And NotBob."
Hmm....

Deja Vu

The Wife: "So, can I just bitch about something for a second?"
"What is it you've been doing?"

Who Might Be Giants?

You know you've been a couple too long when:
Someone says "Pineapple hands," and you both start singing.

Pineapple hands, pineapple hands / doing the things a pineapple can.

Not Quite Clear Enough

Me, singing: "You can act real rude and totaly removed and I can act like an imbecille / we can dance / we can dance...."
Her: "Who sings that song?"
"Men Without Hats."
"Are they the ones with the funny tiered helmets?"
"Devo? Nnnno. Those men had hats."
"Oh. I thought they were being ironic."

IUI Take 2, Part IV

Sitting in my cube, the office seems quieter and more attentive than usual. Then I realize I've forgotten something important (see Part II).

Me, discretely into the phone. "Hi. Uh. It's me. Are there any...shops...on the way to the clinic?"
Her, with some background commotion: "What's that? Any whats?"
"Shops."
"You're going to have to speak up, I can barely hear."
Same volume, but hopefully more insistant: "Ssshhhops."
"Huh? What kind of shops?"

I can sense 'discrete' going out the window. Luckily the fog cleared on the other end of the line.

"Ohhh...you need help?"
"I thought it might ease things along, yes."
"Ok, do you want to go to the one on Jefferson? Or there is a small one on Osuna. The one on Wyoming is pretty nice. Should I just hop in and grab something?"

My wife really really rocks. Have I said that lately?

postscript: It turns out, the clinic does have a rather nice porn menu, catering to a wide variety of discerning tastes. Whoda thunk?

IUI Take 2, Part III

The Wife is spread-eagle on a table getting plowed by a great-big ultrasound dong."
Nurse: "Well, the egg is not quite mature enough. We'll get a blood test and check again tomorrow."
"What should I do about him?"
"Huh? Ohhh...the abstinance thing?"
"Yeah."
"How long has it been?"
"Five days."
Sympathetic gasp-through-the-teeth. I don't know if a word exists, but it's the ultimate 'oh, you poor thing' pity expression. "Well, go ahead, you should be fine."

YES! My wife rocks.

IUI Take 2, Part II

"The baby-sitter is out of town. The boy is going to have to come with us."
"Well, that's gonna be awkward for the...thing...we have to do."
"G and I will wait outside. Bring a magazine."

IUI: Take 2, Part I

"Ok, 5 days 'till go time. No more booty for you."
"Fine. No problem...I'll just do some situps to take the edge off."

I am gonna have some killer abs by the time this is done.

Busted for Ignorance

"So, when do we find out?"
"Two weeks."
"Yeah, but don't we just take a test?"
"Right, but not yet."
"Why, won't it tell?"
"But we won't know for sure."
"But...it's a test."
"It might happen..."
"Yes."
"...and then not implant."
"Huh?"
"It's too early. Don't you know anything about women's bodies?"
"Just the squooshy and/or squelchy bits."
"Idiot."

Transform And Roll Out!

"Pull up your underwear, son."
"But daddy, I'm transforming into a kitty cat."
"Transform into a kitty that wears underpants."

Me And My Arrow, Episode V

All those days...and finally salvation! I am given permission to have intimate relations with a dixie cup. Oh, baby, yeah! (Ok, you got me. After that long, the dixie cup was looking rather sensual.)

I have a complaint with the whole system (well, another complaint, anyway). It all boils down to a simple mechanics problem:

Dixie cups, sexy as they are, only operate in a bottom-downward fashion. Whereas my equipment is of the going-up sort.

If you've never struggled with this -- or indeed, for the ladies, if you've never had the particular equipment necessary to pull this off (no pun intended ... no that's a lie, it was fully intended) -- let me just say this results in either uncomfortable contortionism, or a rather messy floor.

Me And My Arrow, Episode IV

Day One: Ok, not so bad. I think I can lick this thing.
Day Two: Must. concentrate. on. something. else.
Day Three: Do you really have to walk around with that ass all the time?
Day Four: Don't touch. Keep those lucious, fantastic tits away from me.
Day Five: Twitch.

Me And My Arrow, Episode III

Doctor: "Ok, so we're going to bring you guys in next week for an IUI."
Me: "Ok."
Doctor: "So, you'll be ready for everything? Hormones, late-night cravings, early-morning barfing..."
"Yep."
"Sleepless nights, diapers, constant feeding, crying, spit-up"
"No prob."
"Terrible-twos, followed by more terrible-threes"
"Uh-huh. Yeah yeah, sure, I'm ready to do it all again. I'm pumped, let's do it!"
"Good. Now, you'll want to abstain until your next appointment."
"Errrm....I'm afraid that's not going to work for me."
"Well you'll want to save up so you have a nice, healthy...."
"I'll make more. It's what I do. This whole engineering thing is just an aside. Really? A week? Like...a week?"

Me And My Arrow, Episode II

Doctors and nurses and lab technicians, peering and squinting and scrutinizing and critiquing my boys. "Hmmm."
"Hmmm?"

Me And My Arrow, Episode I

"Here's your specimen cup. Have fun."
"Can I call her Charlene?"
...
"I don't think this door locks."
"You just have to jiggle it a bit."
"And there's no material."
"We don't do that here."
"Shouldn't there be a chair or sofa or something."
(Impatient frown.)
Sigh. Zzzzzzip.

Mediterranean Orzo Salad: Freakin' Nasty

Wife: "Didn't you already write a post about orzo?"
Me: "Newp. That was couscous."

Kink in the Hose

How in the world do you get a boy to stop putting the Vulcan-neck-pinch-death-grip on his member and spraying everything in front of him when he's going to the bathroom?

Well, for sure, saying "Don'tPinchDon'tPinchDon'tPinch stop pinching it let go!" only draws undue attention to yourself and the fact that the wall is now a sticky mess.

"But daddy, I have to hold it so pee doesn't go everywere."

Way Out of Context

The Boy, to the Pretty Employee Girl at Fredrick's of Hollywood: "My daddy has a small Bumblebee."

I think she crooked an eyebrow at me. Darn him and his new deluxe-sized toys.

Stop Calling My Bluff

Me: "We have to pick up all our toys, and then go to bed."

Him: "I don't want to clean up. You do it."

Me, dourly: "If you don't want to clean up, then you have to go to bed right now."

Him, cheerily: "Okay, daddy."

Score One For The Wife

Me, watching the hottie at the next table get up and leave: "Aww, my scenery left."
The Wife: "Better than your ride."

Ahh, The Head-Butting Phase

And he's exactly -- oh, say -- crotch height. You do the math.

Too Dumb For Satellite TV

"Do you guys want to watch TV?"
"Ok, sure."
"Here's the remote. Know how to use it?"
"Um...."
"Push this button to select the receiver. Then power here. Deselect the receiver by pushing this button and select the tv and push power again. Bring up the menu, here. Roll through the channel selection guide with these. Here's the volume. When you find something you want to watch, if it has already started, you can ...."
"You know what? I think I'll just go to sleep instead."

Is This Just Me?

Visiting my hometown....

The Wife quietly leans over to me: "Is there an adult store in town?"
"Um...I dunno."
"Go ask your dad."
"Eww, no!"
"Why?"
Words have escaped. Of course I retaliated in the only language she understands: acquiescence.

"She needs a sex store. Tonight." I announce to a living room full of family, hoping to embarrass everyone into a stupor.
Of course, my family are experts and they don't miss a beat. "What kind? Are you looking for toys or clothes or magazines or videos or books or what?" Everyone has a favorite.

---

At "The Shoppe":

I'm admiring the clothing, the games, and of course perusing the video selection. Shaving Private Ryan. Add Mama to the Train. NetFlix has some catching up to do.

She's talking to the gal, who is laying out a dissertation on the merits of metal nubs versus the plastic kind.

---

Later....

House full of people, The Wife leans over and whispers something to my sister.
"Go ahead," she replies. "We'll watch your boy while you are busy."
"Busy?" I ask as I'm being dragged upstairs. "Busy with what?"

---

In my old room:

"What's the matter? You don't seem as into this as usual."
"You told my sister what we are doing."
"So?"
"And I can hear my dad talking downstairs. Right...under...us."
"So?"

---

We get back downstairs. I'm trying my darndest (and failing) to suppress the I-just-got-it smirk. That eyes half closed, vacant look that says, 'I need a glass of water and a nap.'
"Wow, you guys were very quiet," my sister critiques. Did she just look at her watch?

Dad, maybe he's oblivious: "Did you change clothes?"

Momma Called the Doctor and the Doctor Said....

"Daddy, daddy!"
"Uh-huh?"
"My fingers were stuck and mommy called the doctor and he said 'don't put your fingers in the chair.'"
"Huh?"
The Wife: "There was an incident. It involved the chair, a doctor, some olive oil, and the tub of butter. Don't sit there."

It's Bad When the Boy Gets My Jokes

Walking through the pool toys section of a store, the little man points out a box with a hot, busty chick sprawled out on a floaty lounge.

"What's this for?"
"For laying on. And she has a pool toy."
He looks at me and then laughs hysterically. Uh oh.

Don't Pick It Up If You Don't Know What It Is!!!

"Daddy?"
"Mmm-hmm?"
"Is this poop?"

Great, You'll Be Surfing Porn In No Time

"Daddy, can I play the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse game?" It's an on-line thing for kids. Saves me from having to spend money on real computer games.
"Sure, give me one sec and I'll help you."
"I can do it." Huh?

He hoists himself into the chair, and then - get this:
Clicks on his logon profile.
Double-clicks Internet Explorer.
Opens his Favorites menu.
Clicks on the bookmark.
Re-closes the Favorites menu.

Holy crap! How did he learn ANY of that?

A Superman Cape, On the Other Hand....

I was reading a collection of funny warnings found on products. "Hairdryer not for use in shower." "Enema not for oral use." That kind of thing. And then I happend upon this:

"Found on Batman costume: Cape does not enable user to fly."

Well, duh! Everyone knows Batman didn't fly.

Sloppy Jimbo

"What's for dinner?"
"Meatless sloppy-joes."
"Wouldn't that be a tomato-paste sandwich?"

Wiping 101

Potty Training: Ok, The Boy finally has it down. We are no longer pooing (and mostly not peeing) in our pants. We get a warning, we rush him to the potty and voila, shazam, presto-chango, abbra-cadabbra, a-la-peanut-butter-sandwiches, by-the-power-of-Greyskull -- however you feel like expressing it -- success!

So, now, here is the part that stumps me:

"Ok, now we wipe."
"Ok, Daddy."
He grabs a few squares of TP, leans to the right like an old man getting his finger pulled, and dabs at his left cheek before jumping off the potty.

"No no. Get back up there. Here's some more toilet paper. Try again. You want to be nice and clean."
He looks at me quizically, then dabs at his wee before dropping the paper in the toilet.
"Your butt, son, wipe your butt." Some more TP.

Clearly, a demonstration is in order. Great idea: I'll show the boy what I mean, and I'll very clinically describe the process.

"You want to really get in there with the toilet paper. Don't be afraid to dig a little bit. And if you need more toilet paper, you've got plenty. Can you reach ok? Give it a try."

And then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Bent over, grasping my own ass -- digging, if you will -- at the appropriate place in the back of my jeans. The guy in the mirror looking back at me has the audacity to look somewhat shocked and embarrased.

And then that old South Park line runs through my head: "Whoa, this is pretty fucked up right here."

Stinky Cheese

Me, opening the fridge: "AAUUUCCCCGGGHH! What is that smell?"
The Wife, from the living room: "That's the cheese I told you you probably shouldn't eat."
Me: "Well...thank you for not letting me eat it."

Blech

So, I had couscous for the first time ever last night. And as I sat down and saw this gunk on my plate, I thought to myself, "Rad! Cuz with Kit Kat you get, like, four. But this stuff? Four thousand! Whee."

Addendum: I hate couscous. But for the record, I sure do like Kit Kat.

It Ain't Life They're High On

Cats. I think their sole purpose is to mess with our heads.

Clean animals. Forever bathing and preening themselves. Prissy debutantes that never seem to get invited to the ball and have to settle for matting their fur into my pillowcase or barfing in the hall.

Our genius cats have always taken exception to the sand in their litter box. Oh sure, they still use it (well, most of the time -- when it wouldn't be more convenient to use, say, my jacket or The Wife's shoes). Somehow, these cats manage to go in -- paws wedged against the sides of the igloo shaped box -- do their business, and then get out, all without getting their precious feet in the sand.

And right there is a big problem. I had always thought that the desire to cover up waste was a trait ingrained. You know, nature stuff. I'm sure Animal Planet or the Discovery Channel mentioned it at some point.

But then they mock me. After every session, every cat will stand outside the box and dig at the plastic. For ever. Skritch scratch skritch. Skritch scratch skritch. Skritch scratch skritch. What are you doing? Do you have a goal in mind? Is it to make me cry?

Finally, The Big One

We're still in the process of potty training. When I say WE, I think I mean that The Wife and I are actually learning far more than The Boy is. We have gotten surprisingly good at judging the degree to which others need to go. I catch myself doing it at work.

"Tony, do you need to go to the bathroom?"
"Dude!"
"Oh, sorry, man. Habit. You go, I'll wait here."

Well, we finally found our chance. We knew the boy hadn't poo'd in a while, and there were hints that one might just be coming on. Aha! "G, come on, let's go potty real quick."

I managed to get him in there and sit him down...and then came the anxious waiting. Wait. Wait. Hmm...might as well floss while I wait. "No no, you sit there and just relax." Hmm, freshly flossed, I could get a good evening brush in. "It's ok, we're not in any hurry, keep sitting there." Teeth are feeling pretty good. Mouthwash? Why not. "No, it's ok, you just sit." Swish swish spit. Ahhh...refreshing.

And then:
"Daddy, I don't have to poo." Oh, man, just chill.
"Ok, that's fine. No pressure. Just relax." This isn't going to happen.
"But I don't want to sit. I want to play." Dang, ok, I guess I can give up.
"I don't ha- HARRRRUGH. I- HEEEYAAARGHHH. WHOOOAGHHHHHHH." Plop. YES!

Ok, so only a parent could be proud. Some more than others. The Wife came running in with hugs and M&Ms. At least she didn't take a picture.

Winter Wonderland

We've had some interesting weather lately. Snow. Lots of snow. I love it, I want more. I see snow coming down, and I long for the good old days when I could grab my skis and chase down the nearest bus to the slopes.

Unfortunately, I live in the desert now, and, well, this city just is not prepared. Yeah, we got a lot, but really not enough to warrant closing down the schools for an entire week (which they did).

We are the only people on the block who own a snowshovel. I know this, because people came over to introduce themselves and put their name down on the waiting list for ours.

Anyway, I got to spend a lot of time over my winter vacation playing outside with The Boy. We made snowmen, and I taught him how to make snow angels, and we did a lot of sledding, etc.

And then I got the great idea to pick him up and toss him, butt first. The snowbank erupted into a misty cloud with a satisfying "wumpf" ... and then all was still. Uh oh. Did I break The Boy's butt? Is he going to one day be laying on a couch explaining an irrational fear of powder.

I did what any father would have: I looked around to make sure The Wife hadn't seen, and then asserted my control of the situation with a solid "Uhhmmm...G?"

Well, it turned out that it was the single most exciting thing of his young life. And he wanted to go again...for the rest of the afternoon. At some point, daddy simply could no longer lift The Boy, and we had to stop. And that's when he cried.

Great, Now I'm a Role Model

I have three cats.

Correction. The Wife has three cats, one of which is always somewhere inconvenient. Sitting in my chair. Laying on my book. Eating food off the counter. Snoozing right in the middle of the hallway, even though they know that my big old clumsy feet are bearing down on them (I've got a few scars from that particular scenario).

So, I am forever pushing cats out of my way, nudging them off the table, yelling at them not to claw my already mangled sofa, etc. And over the years they have become (more or less endearingly) The Goddamned Cats.

Evidently my perceptive Boy has picked up on this, and I got to see first hand how he handles a little thing like a Goddamned Cat laying on his train set. First, he pulls out the warning finger, with a suitable, "Kitty, move!" The response is predictable: one eye comes half open and lazily slides shut.

Now it was time to pull out the big guns. "Kitty, move!" with a swift kick to the butt. Mission accomplished. Atta boy.

But, of course, I can't let that happen. "Hey, that's not nice! We don't kick ..." -- I almost inserted "the Goddamned Cat" here, but then thought better of it -- "...our good friend Kitty. Now, you go hug her and say you're sorry. Go on!"

Hypocrite me.

An Ass of Myself

Mother-In-Law, watching Father-In-Law wipe spilled food off the carpet: "Ever notice how men and women wipe differently?"

Smart-Alec Me: "Back to front?"

Band of ... well, Just Me

Everyone knows that the History Channel loves to play "Band of Brothers." I myself watched about an hour's worth just today.

If there are any other husbands out there like me, they also know that they don't play it nearly enough. Why do I say this?

Because it's such an awesome movie?
No.
Because I'm a history buff?
No.
Because I love the action, adventure, drama, etc?
Nope.
Because I want to watch it over and over again?
Ha. I wish.

Because every time I start to get into it, this-or-that needs to be done, or we have to go to such-and-such, or help with so-and-so.

And so, I never get to see more than a little bit at a time, like today. But today, I heard a new one. "Haven't you seen this movie like a million times?"

No. I've just seen a million little pieces of it, in no particular order. Someday....

Channel Flipage

Like most other people, I occassionally spend an evening flipping repeatedly through channels, most of which I wouldn't normally watch if paid. (Do we really need a network devoted to knives?) And occasionally the split-second that I see of some program will trigger some sort of odd recognition.

Does a certain "News Channel's" quartered screen with four angry baffoons remind anyone else of the old "One of These Things Is Not Like the Others" bits on Sesame Street?

Do You Not Know Me?

The Wife: "What did The Boy eat for dinner?"
"Oh-toe-toes." (Spaghettios. I have to admit, his language is contagious.)
"Did he eat any fruits or vegetables?"
"Umm...no."
"Did he get any dairy?"
"Umm...no."
"Grains?"
"Umm...."

Stop Asking Me!

So, I'm a smart guy. I can answer most questions posed, correct?

"Daddy? Why is Lightning McQueen a race car?"
"Where did the potty come from?"
"Why is Mommy?"

Maybe I'm not so smart.

Translation Required

Ahh, the joy of deciphering Toddlerspeak.

The Boy: "Daddy, I have a new Elmo snot proof grass."
"You have a what?"
"Alpha scot through snatch."
"Huh?"
"Alpo's not boo thrush."
"Er...?"
The wife, coming to my rescue: "He's got an astronaut toothbrush."
"Ah. Uhhh...what the heck is an astronaut toothbrush?"

My Holiday Haircut

Girl at the mall's Cheapo Cut-o-Rama Shop: "Sorry about the hair. We're trying to rush through the crowd, so I didn't sweep up."

Yeah...so, ok...but couldn't you at least brush some of it out of the chair. I did it myself, with my hand, before sitting down. Yummy.