Day 847 - One Singular Sensation

People still ask us what it's like to raise twins, and quite honestly I don't know how to answer them. Sometimes I humor them and go into a long winded explanation of how crazy it is. Other times I'm sick of the question and tell them it's like raising two of their one ugly child.

Lisa and I just don't have anything to compare it to. We've never had the experience of raising one child or more than two. I guess I could compare it to raising a couple of goldfish I had as a child, but that ended in a tragic aquarium pump accident which is one reason I don't allow humidifiers in the playroom.

A few days ago, Emma refused to take a nap. I explained that if she did not take a nap, Daddy would not be able to finish Uncharted 2: Among Thieves on his beloved PS3. Evidently, she did not care that Nathan Drake was about to be decapitated by a helicopter because she continued to cry. I begrudgingly turned off the television and took Emma out of her crib.

Andrew was still asleep, so I just let Emma play with her toys until Andrew woke up. Surprisingly, Andrew slept for another hour. It was just Emma and me...and I got to tell you...it gave me a glimpse into what it is like to have one child. All I got to say is, "Holy crap!"

Listen, I'm not saying it's not difficult to raise one child or that what we're going through with twins is so unique. There are many families out there that have it much harder than us. It's just that during that one hour with one child, my senses were attuned to things that I have long forgotten. I forgot that it was possible to have silence during the daytime. I forgot that you don't have to see the world solely through your peripheral vision. And I totally forgot the feel of the remote control in one hand and your ass on the sofa while your kid plays quietly by herself.

Even if it was just for an hour, the contrast between one kid versus two kids was quite dramatic. The bottom line with twins is that there's never a quiet moment or a moment to yourself. But with just one kid awake, it was a lot calmer and mellower; it was like a Jack Johnson song. The best way to describe the difference that I experienced is that if it's quiet with one kid, it probably means that they're happily playing by themselves. If it's quiet with twins, it probably means they set something on fire or they dragged a corpse through the back door.

As the hour of zen ended with Andrew crying to get out of his crib, Emma immediately stopped coloring, leaped off the floor, ran to the bedroom door, and said, "Andrew! Andrew! Andrew get up!" I walked to open the door, and Emma rushed to Andrew's bed. Andrew's crying transitioned into laughter as he and Emma shared some sort of twin inside joke. So although I savored the hour of peace and quiet, there's something to be said about moments like these. And as an added bonus, getting two hugs at the same time ain't too shabby either. I think Lisa agreed to the latter because she was mumbling about getting two of something at the same time during college, but she didn't finish her sentence.

Day 846 - Conversations with Emma

For some reason, today was an unusually busy day for Emma's bowels. She emptied her backside more often than a herd of elephants at a zoo after a Metamucil mix-up. While changing Emma's diaper, Lisa had this talk with her...

LISA: Emma! You're going poo-poo so many times today.

EMMA: Yup!

LISA: Why do you have to go poo-poo so much?

EMMA: I dunno.

LISA: Did you know this is the fourth time I'm changing your diaper today?

EMMA: I know! I so lucky!

LISA: You like going poo-poo a lot?

EMMA: I so happy!

And with that, Emma grabbed another Ex-Lax bar and waited for another smile to come across her face.

Day 845 - Picture Friday

"Emma! Did you put glue in my hoodie?"

"Holy craaaaap," exclaims Emma as Andrew emits a piercing cry.

"Look! I'm a tangelo!"

A protege of David Blaine, Emma performs her first death-defying escape from a lawn chair.

3 hours later.

Have a great weekend!

Day 844 - Spelling Me

People generally say that girls develop speech earlier than boys, and I can attest to that in this family of look-alikes. Between the ages of two and three, there are certain milestones to look for in speech and language development: has a word for most everything; says two-to-three word sentences and questions; asks or directs attention to certain things; constant whining and droning can cause intense headaches and the occasional ear and or nose bleed to a poor suffering parent.

Both Emma and Andrew seem to be hitting all of their milestones, but Emma is a little more advanced in the speech area. Whereas Andrew is still working on his consonant sounds and increasing the number of words he can string together, Emma is able to say most sounds and can say up to eight word sentences. This is quite useful for her because she can now tell me, "Daddy, why are you such a big dork?"

Something that Emma just picked up on is how to spell her name. I'm pretty sure she doesn't associate the letters to her name because this morning she spelled Andrew's name as "E-M-M-A." But when I asked her how to spell Daddy, she said, "D-U-M-B-A-S-S." I don't know whether to be proud or suicidal. Here's a video of Emma spelling her name!

Day 843 - Cartoon Wednesday

Day 842 - Maybe They're Right

While browsing through the thousands of pictures on our computer, I decided to use Picasa's face-matching technology to name tag our photos. For you non-geeks out there, all that means is that you have the ability to attach a person's name to their face on a photo. It's pretty neat, but not always perfect. Repeatedly, the program kept on confusing my face with a bunch of donkeys from the photos I took on our jackass safari last summer.

As I went through the photos that were automatically organized by face, I was shocked to see so many errors. Photos of Andrew were in Emma's folder. Photos of Emma were in Andrew's folder. Photos of our niece and nephews were in Emma's and Andrew's folder. Photos of jackasses mating were in my folder. It was mass confusion and disorganization.

While tediously renaming and reorganizing the photos, a realization hit me: Picasa is racist. The program thinks all Asians look alike. And we all know all Asians don't all look alike -- except for the few times people mistook me for Connie Chung because I decided to wear a dress to work. How dare Google publish a program that blatantly reinforces this stereotype. Sure, all Asians have black hair, brown eyes, almond-shaped eyes, and a bowl haircut until their formative teenage years. But that's still no excuse!

I was going through all of the small thumbnail photos in Andrew's folder trying to find all of the pictures that were not him. It was basically a mixture of every Asian person I created a name tag for. And then it happened. I started to have a difficult time figuring out if certain photos were Andrew or not. Was this Emma or Andrew? A cousin or Andrew? Hideo Nomo or Andrew?

For a moment, I thought I might've been too harsh on Picasa. Perhaps there are some basic similarities with Asians that may make it difficult to differentiate one from another. This could be especially true when you are looking at baby pictures since almost all babies regardless of race have strikingly similar features.

But I quickly changed my mind. There was no way I was going to be forgiving towards a multi-billion dollar company for putting out a racist face-matching program. So I'm sticking to my original belief with one new addition: I must be racist too. So screw you, Google, and screw me, you jackass!

Day 841 - Poll Results & New Poll

Last week I asked how we should wean Andrew off his pacifier. Forty-one percent thought the best way would be to cut a small hole in his pacifier so he'll eventually get tired of it. Thirty-three percent took a more festive and bittersweet approach and thought a bon voyage pacifier party would be a good idea. And only twenty-five percent said he should suck away as long as he wants.

I think we will try both approaches: cutting a hole in the pacifier and the final farewell. I've been reading a few articles about weaning your child off a pacifier, and it sounds like it will be a torturous and painful process...mostly for the parents. One doctor said that if you do the cold turkey route you can expect an unhappy child any where from two days to two weeks. Why you would substitute a pacifier for a cold turkey is beyond me, but I'm no doctor. Wish us luck!

**********

If you don't live in Southern California, then you don't understand how wacky people get when it rains for a prolonged period of time. People don't know how to use their windshield wipers, and they forget how to operate an umbrella. For almost all of last week, it rained hard. At least fifteen minutes of the local news was devoted to a poor schmuck in a yellow slicker figuring out new ways to say that it's raining outside.

What would be a much more interesting twist on bad weather news reporting in Los Angeles is to interview all of the parents who were stuck at home with their toddler children. I got to tell you that I was going insane trying to wrangle Emma and Andrew for an entire week. I usually try to take them out for a stroll during the afternoon, but there was none of that. It was just me, them, and my new best friend, Jack Daniels.

Since I'm sure there will be more bad weather on the horizon, what do you do with your two or three year old children when you're stuck indoors with them?

Day 840 - Sensitive Materials

Something I'm trying to learn as a parent, mentor, and savior to my children is that I need to make sure I don't overreact to things. Occasionally it is a difficult thing to do because I have picked up many bad habits from my musical theater days. For example, if Andrew is about to grab a cup of coffee on the table, instead of a simple "Stop!", I end up singing the chorus of "Steam Heat" while doing jazz hands, the cakewalk, and the buck-and-wing.

Tonight, I was sitting on the sofa reading a book to Emma. When I finished reading the book, Emma clumsily climbed off of me. As she made her way down, she slipped off my leg, but luckily grabbed my penis and testicles for support.

"Ouch," says the collective audience of men. "I don't want to visualize that at all," says the collective audience of women. "Emma must have small hands," says the collective audience of women who have slept with Scott (Okay fine...it was just Lisa.).

I don't recall exactly what I said or did as Emma grabbed my chopstick and rice balls, but she knew she did something to evoke this grand reaction. So what was the only natural thing to do? Do it again.

This was getting extremely ridiculous. Why was my daughter trying to destroy the thing that helped create her? I tried to calm myself down and figure out a way to tell Emma not to squeeze the Charmins, but before I could say anything...she did it AGAIN!

Again, I tried to be a good parent by not getting angry or overreacting. As soon as my voice dropped to a normal octave and my balls dropped to a normal length, I finally moved away from Emma and told her as politely as possible that she should not grab Daddy down there. I was pleased with myself that I tempered the pain and anger against the more critical factor of being a patient and caring parent.

And just to make sure Emma understood, I told her one final time that it is very important not to grab people in that area. Her response to that was just hysterical laughter...which once again is a pretty common reaction women have to my area. Oh, the joy to be me.

Day 839 -Auntie Anne's Pretzel Twisted Tales

While staying in Sacramento during winter break, one of Auntie Anne's (pretzel maven) friends came for a visit. Her friend, Esme (mural maven), brought her year and a half old daughter over to play with Emma and Andrew. It was an amazing time of parallel playing and synchronized whining.

Before Esme left with her daughter, Auntie Anne wanted to share with us this little trick that she taught the kid. Auntie Anne went up to the innocent child and said these two magical words: ching chong. And then this little kid brought her fingers to her eyes and said, "Chee-choo!" Although she sounded like an Asian donkey, we all laughed at this awful racist stupid baby trick.

Emma and Andrew, always the attention-whores, picked up on this and started doing the same thing. Once again, we all started laughing, but we told our kids not to do this. First of all, it's redundant to make Asian eyes when you already have Asian eyes. Secondly, we don't want our kids to embarrass us when we attend our weekly Politically Correct Asian American Oriental Rug Association group. Lastly, we had to tell Andrew that pulling his sister in his Radio Flyer Rickshaw was really pushing the stereotypes.

Well, weeks have gone by since the holidays and guess what? The kids still do it! Lisa and I no longer laugh at the kids (we do it in private), but the kids laugh at each other. We're really trying to tell them that acting like Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany's is bad, but I think we are now at the point where we need to ignore them and use the magic of time to make them forget about it.

It's really quite ridiculous that you spend months trying to teach the kids to poop in their potty chair, but it just takes a moment in time for them to remember how to embarrass their parents at their bi-monthly Pacific Islander Sanrio Collectibles Society meetings. It goes to show that even at this young age, toddlers really do have a mind of their own.

If you still haven't been offended and/or you finished reporting us to the Asian American Defamation League (...again...), you may want to click play on the below video. I recorded Andrew's best efforts at insulting the 3.5 billion people in Asia. And I must say, you've never seen racial stereotyping so cute.

Day 842 - Picture Friday

The secret to Emma's happiness: a plastic cup of Zima.

Andrew is apprehensive about Emma's idea to audition for American Idol as ZZ Top.

"Damn girl. Where have you been all my life?"

"If you want my body and you think I'm sexy, come on sugar let me know..."

Scott learned from experience that it is a good idea for Andrew to wear a smock because it keeps the floor clean of hair and blood.

Have a great weekend!

Day 841 - She Who Smelt It...

This afternoon, I thought there was a dead cow in our living room until I realized Andrew just took a dump. It amazed me how awful it smelled because this waft of polluted air had to pass through a thick diaper, thick sweatpants, and across the room to a corner where I lay in a fetal position fearing the task that awaited me.

But it was not only me who noticed the smell of death. Emma started complaining about stinky Andrew. And this is when the fun started. For some really odd reason, Andrew started playing a game with Emma. A not very fun game if you ask me. Basically the way the game worked was that if Andrew was able to make you smell his dung diaper, then he would win. Take a look at this video and see who won this very sad, pathetic, and torturous game.

Day 840 - Cartoon Wednesday

Day 839 - Crazy Grandma Ichikawa Storytime

What's crazier than trying to get a blog posted with a video you cut together but then you realize that you can't post the video because the blog program you use updated their site but stupidly made it impossible to embed video into an entry so while you wait for the site to fix the problem you end up having to write another blog entry? Why it's...Crazy Grandma Ichikawa Storytime!

Every night before we get the kids ready for bed, I take my laptop computer out and have the kids video chat with Crazy Grandma and Lazy Grandpa. The video chat engages the kids for about five minutes, but after that they're off to more interesting things like picking their nose or picking each other's nose.

The first thing that pops on the computer screen is the top half of Lazy Grandpa's head. The video camera is almost never focused on the entire head so the kids now believe Lazy Grandpa speaks through his nostrils. And then the excitement begins: Crazy Grandma sits down to talk to the kids.

Crazy Grandma is a little like Carrot Top or Gallagher because she likes to use props when she speaks to the kids. One day she showed some coloring books that she bought for the kids at Target. The next day she held up a gigantic teddy bear doll. There was even one day when she sculpted bowling pins and a bowling ball out of rice and screamed into the camera, "Rook! Rice bowl!" Hmm...I guess she's more like Carrot Top then.

Emma and Andrew refer to Crazy Grandma as Gaga. It's an abbreviated way to say 'Grandma.' They also like to call her Nomo. That's an abbreviated way to say 'No more!!' Tonight the conversation between the kids and Crazy Grandma went something like this...

"Hah-low! It's Gaga!" shouted Crazy Grandma.

"Gaga!" said Andrew.

"Gaga!" said Emma.

"Gaga! Gaga! Dat me! Gaga! Gaga!" repeated Crazy Grandma over and over again.

"What Gaga doooooing?" questioned Emma. Only if I had an answer for that...

"Rook at Gaga! Gaga dancing!" Crazy Grandma began to swing her arms and kick her legs at the computer.

"Gaga kick! Kick!" shrieked Andrew.

"Gaga dance!" laughed Emma.

"Dat right! Gaga dance! Rook at me! I'm Lady Gaga! Call me Lady Gaga! Whoo-whoo! Just dance! Lady Gaga!" demanded Crazy Grandma.

So with apologies to Lady Gaga...

Day 838 - Poll Results & New Poll

Last week, I wondered if I should continue doing Monday's poll results entry or if I should do something different in its place. Well, the answer was unanimous. One hundred percent of you thought I should continue doing the results entry as I have been doing since 2007.

I was surprised by the unanimous vote because I always thought the Monday entry was a little redundant. I just thought it was redundant. But I guess I'll continue the polls and maybe brainstorm about new semi-regular entries for the new year. I've had quite a few bad ideas about new entries, so I took my own poll to see which ones would be the worst. Here are the results:

10% - Crazy Granda Ichikawa Shaving Storytime
14% - Emma & Andrew Cage Fights
17% - Jackass or Scott?
22% - Toilet Training Tales (Note: Not about the kids, but rather Grandpa Ichikawa.)
37% - Lisa or Emma: Whose Poop Is It?

**********

Okay. This time we mean it. Lisa and I are going to try and get Andrew off of his pacifier. When we saw our pediatrician last September, she wasn't anti-pacifier, but suggested we try to wean Andrew off the pacifier within the next 6-8 months. We didn't want to do it when Crazy Grandma and Lazy Grandpa were babysitting the kids from October through December, so here we are in January...mid-January...getting towards the end of January...and we need to think of the best way to make Andrew's binky go bye-bye.

Andrew only uses his pacifier when he's in his crib. Specifically that would be during his naptime, bedtime...breakfast, lunch, dinner, and playtime. Damn...he's in there a lot. The trick for us is to try to figure out the road of least resistance because we don't want to screw up Emma's sleep schedule and have two angry, sleepy kids to deal with.

Do we make him go cold turkey? Slowly wean him off of it? Substitute the pacifier for something else comforting like weed? What do you think?

Day 837 - Headbutt

The nice thing about putting the kids to bed is that the entire family is together. We all share the same experience and emotions. There's joy when we read a new book. There's nostalgia when we talk about the day. And there's anger and tears when nobody can go to sleep.

One of things we do now is we turn off the lights, lie on the floor, and do shadow puppets with a flashlight. The kids get very excited when they see me do generic shadow puppets like a bunny, bird, or Winston Churchill. Obviously, the only shadow puppets Emma and Andrew can do right now are a rock and a crippled spider.

The other night while on the floor, the kids weren't tired yet. So they started jumping up and down on top of us. Thankfully, my six-pack prevents pain to my stomach, but Lisa's boobs aren't as forgiving. Besides it would be disgusting if each of her boobs had a six-pack -- or would that be a twelve-pack?

Lisa wasn't taking the abuse of the kids too well, so the strict and disciplinarian part of me came out. I immediately told the kids, "Emma! Andrew! Stop and go sit on your mommy's face!"

Our delightfully obedient children followed their father's instruction and scooted their powder-fresh asses on top of Lisa's face where they resided for a few minutes. Eventually, I got the kids off of Lisa's face because she started to turn blue from either the lack of oxygen or the large crap in Andrew's diaper.

After a few moments of rest, I posed this question to the kids: Should Daddy sit on Mommy's face? While the kids thought about this question, Lisa tried to sway their decision by politely saying, "Hell no! Oh no no no! NO!"

As I stood up to get my stanky, eight-year-old-underwear-wearing-butt on Lisa's face, the kids surprisingly took a stand: they told me not to do it! Andrew starting shouting, "No! No! Daddy! No!" And Emma was a little more eloquent and bossy by telling me, "Stop! Don't sit on Mommy's face! No do that!" Awww. You know they're growing up so fast when they tell you not sit on Mommy's face...

I found their reaction to this situation interesting in several ways. First, they both had the verbal ability to express their feelings and thoughts. Second, they were trying to be protective towards Lisa. And lastly, they are gigantic hypocrites and party poopers because they got to sit on Lisa's face, but when it was my turn to do it they wouldn't let me so I'm just not going to talk to them for the rest of their lives...so there!

It really was pretty cute to see Emma and Andrew trying to defend Lisa from the deathly hallows of my ass. When you see both of your kids working together to do something nice and helpful it gives you a lot of hope that they're going to the best of friends in the future. When it comes down to it, all you really want your kids to be is happy, healthy, and loving. And I guess the final point to make is that at this young age of two, they can't do anything to prevent their father from sitting on their mother's face. Hell yes! In your face!

Day 836 - Conversations with Emma

The entire family took a trip to Costco where we bought our weekly supply of diapers, baby wipes, and toilet paper (Yes...we go through 36 rolls of toilet paper each week. Don't ask why or how.). As Lisa carts the kids through the book and clothing area, I go up and down the electronic aisles to look at the many bargains I shouldn't buy. But man, that twelve pack of 50" LCD TVs is such a bargain!

Unfortunately, the kids were a little fussy so we had to quickly serpentine our way past the crowd, the free samples, and confused elderly people who misplaced their shopping carts. While waiting at the check-out line, I told Lisa I was going to the electronic area to browse around.

"Okay, kids," I said to Emma and Andrew. "Daddy is going to be right back!" And I ran off to admire the beauty of ink cartridges, batteries, and hard drives.

The kids looked a little confused so Lisa started to talk to the kids.

"Daddy won't be long," said Lisa naively. "Gee. Where do you think Daddy ran off to?"

Emma waited a beat, and then said, "Best Buy!"

Day 835 - Picture Friday

The kids dramatize Tiger Woods trying to keep his house from Elin Nordegren.

Emma asks, "Does Andrew have that Benjamin Button disease?"

"I peed in this!"

"Emma did what to this?!?"

Have a great weekend!

Day 834 - To Catch a Parent

To this day, I proclaim that I have never been a baby person. Even with our kids, I found the first 6-8 months of parenthood like an assembly line. First stop: booby juice. Second stop: burping station. Third stop: diaper changing. Fourth stop: off the assembly line into a crib. And then during our break we would step outside for a smoke and complain how under paid we are.

I've always enjoyed kids more when they become interactive and responsive. Emma and Andrew are infinitely more fun now than when they were just poop robots. But something happened with Emma that makes me long for the days when she did nothing except eat, poop, and sleep.

During Emma's constipation phase over the holiday, she developed a bit of a diaper rash. Nothing major, but we were pretty diligent about putting diaper cream on her tushy to make sure her rash wouldn't get worse. As I was putting a dab of cream around her butthole, Emma said the following to me, "Hey! Hey!"

What's dat again?

I thought it might've been just a fluke. Perhaps the diaper cream was too cold, or Emma was reminded of a Fat Albert episode she especially enjoyed. But no! On multiple occasions she has been saying "Hey! Hey!": 1) When I washed Emma's own private Idaho in the bathtub, she said, "Hey! Hey!" 2) When I swifted her crack clean of dung dust, she said, "Hey! Hey!" 3) When we drove by a pasture, she yelled, "Hay! Hay!"

Obviously, Emma is too young to know about her private parts and all that it entails. I assume her reaction is more along the lines of cold cream or baby wipes surprising her down yonder. Yet I can't help but feel embarrassed and awkward when Emma utters, "Hey! Hey!" Perhaps it's my own painful flashbacks of girls never wanting me to touch them . Okay fine...it's my own painful flashbacks of Lisa never wanting me to touch her.

Much like many things that the kids do, experience dictates that Emma's reaction will pass. I'll have to deal with it for the moment, and it will become another story to tell the grandkids. At least Emma's reaction to me wiping and washing her down there is a lot better than Andrew telling me, "Don't touch my balls!"

Day 833 - Cartoon Wednesday

Day 832 - Emma's (and Andrew's) Vacation

Emma received a book as a gift titled Emma's Vacation. It's a cute book about a little bear named Emma who encourages her parents to look at nature instead of man-made attractions on their vacation.

The problem with the book is that every time I read the book, Andrew wonders where he is. So I have resorted to the one thing that I'm really good at: lying.

Each time I read the book, I point out different areas of the illustration where Andrew is hidden. I've read this book so many times, Emma automatically points out where Andrew is in each picture. Here are a bunch of pictures with arrows indicating the location of Andrew. And the description under each picture is not a joke; it is literally what Emma says every time we read the book.

"Andrew in car!"

"Andrew in rocket! You can't see Andrew!"

"Oh oh! Andrew in water!"

"There! Andrew foot!"

"Daddy sleep on Andrew!"

Day 831 - Poll Results & New Poll

Last week I asked what blog entry you enjoyed the most last year. I guess all of the entries were the same to you (i.e. mediocre at best) because there was a three way tie for first: Grandparental Guidance, Freedom of Feces, and The Musubi Baby. Sadly, there was not one vote for Toy Story which was about Andrew's phallic toy. Weird, you'd think phalluses and babies would be a match made in heaven.

Personally, I enjoyed The Musubi Baby entry because there is something so surreal and wrong about the story. What type of message are you trying to send kids when you ask them to eat the storybook's main character? And the baby no less! I don't recall reading Clifford the Big Red Dog, and seeing a recipe at the end telling you how to make Clifford Casserole. Although I must admit I saw a Chinese import of that same book, and there was a recipe for Sweet and Sour Clifford on the last page.

**********

Now that a new year has arrived, I've been thinking that maybe I need to inject a jolt of freshness to this blog. As a first step, I promise to post less pictures of myself (that should increase the hits twofold with cool people). The second thing I thought I could do is to change the format of the weekly poll.

Instead of devoting an entire entry to the results and the new poll, what if I just put the weekly poll without any explanation or commentary at all? That way I could make Monday's entry something different like Crazy Grandma Monday or My Favorite Picture of Scott. Oh crap. I can't do that anymore, can I?

What do you think?

Day 830 - Bubble Trouble

When we give the kids their daily bath, it is a routine that is enjoyed by all. Emma and Andrew love taking a bath together. It's practically the only time of the day when they can be next to each other for more than five minutes without a fight breaking out. Lisa and I love it when the kids take a bath because we can leave them alone in the tub for a good fifteen minutes while we catch up on Tivo. But don't worry about them drowning -- we're better parents than that. We always duct tape sheets of styrofoam around their necks before we put the kids in the tub.

It was my turn to give the kids a bath today, and I thought it would be a fantastic idea to fill the tub up with a lot of bubbles. So I poured in extra bubble bath solution into the tub and waited for the bubble bonanza. As an aside, it is always a good idea to make sure you are pouring bubble bath solution into the tub and not another liquid like bleach or Windex -- although Windex will create some bubbles, but our doctor said it's not the good kind of bubbles.

I unveiled my bubble creation to Emma and Andrew, and they went crazy for it. I put them into the tub and they started to throw the bubbles all over the place.


But like any of my blog entries in which I boast about my great ideas, this idea also went into the proverbial Diaper Champ. The problem with bath bubbles is that they quickly lose their form and begin to drip. So what were once terrific bubble bouffants that the kids created on each others heads slowly became eye, nose, ears, and mouth irritants.



All of the laughter in the tub soon turned into whines and tears (and a hint of baby urine). I tried to fix the situation by draining some of the water and replenishing it, but this just caused the kids to bemoan the fact that they didn't have enough bubbles. Similar to my arguments over the benefits of a 60" LCD television, it became a no-win situation.

I decided that them playing with bubbles was slightly better than them complaining through the rest of their bath, so I put a little bit more bubble bath solution into the tub. And it worked! The kids stopped their complaining and became happy little two year olds again. We were all laughing and playing and washing...until once again the bubbles burst again. Literally...



I'm beginning to rationalize that when you have a pair of two year olds, there are just going to situations that you can't make better. It doesn't mean you shouldn't try, but I guess you have to hope for the best and expect the worst. I think that's a good way to look at things. After all, that motto is what has kept Lisa from divorcing me for the past nine years.

Day 829 - This Is a Test...Only a Test

Who ever came up with the phrase "age of innocence" obviously never had to deal with two year olds. Sure, the kids don't know anything about sex, violence, or Charlie Sheen (which coincidentally accounts for the first two!), but behind their wide-eyed looks of wonder is a mind that can be evil and downright awful.

There was a time when we knew the kids didn't know what the words "no", "don't", and "get the f*&k away from that" meant. But now the kids understand and say quite a bit so there's not really any excuse why the kids should not listen to us when we ask them not to touch dangerous objects like fire, broken glass, and skanky prostitutes.

I know what you're thinking. You're saying, "Scott, I know your intellect, style, and hairy knees are vastly superior to mine, but kids will be kids." And that is true. The kids are at a vital stage in their development. It is up to Lisa to teach the kids right from wrong, and it is up to me to teach the kids the opposite.

But I've got to tell you. There are times when we are trying to tell the kids not to do something, and they just ignore us. The worst part of it is that they are screwing around with our minds. Emma and Andrew totally know they shouldn't be doing something, but they continue to do it because they enjoy seeing their parents get riled up.

For instance, Emma was taking a bath today, and she spilled a cup of water out of the tub and onto Lisa. Lisa told her not to do that. Emma stopped, thought about it, and did it again. I walked in to check on what the commotion was about, and Lisa told me Emma dumped water on her shirt twice. After thinking about it, I told Emma to do it again since Lisa's shirt wasn't completely see-thru yet.

Honestly, I find it quite frustrating that parents must try to watch their temper and nurture their patience with their children. Why can't we just teach our kids that if you piss us off, we're going to piss right back? I suppose that isn't the right message we want to instill in our kids, but must I be emasculated even more by being bossed around by two 2 year olds? It's worse enough that Lisa makes me wear a dress around the house.

Day 828 - Picture Friday

"Is Mister Jass there? First name, Hugh."
"Is there a Hugh Jass here? I'm looking for a Hugh Jass!"

McDonald hired Emma to bring back their classic character, Grimace.

...please do not disturb the grumpy baby...

"Appetizer done! NEXT!!!"

Sadly, no one realized what Andrew was playing with until he ate half the box.

Have a great weekend!