Day 1023 - Picture Friday

It's unbelievable that Lazy Grandpa has to sleep when holding his grand-daughter.

This expression of Andrew is similar to Lisa's expression when she wakes up and realizes who she married.

Leaf me alone...

"Th-th-this ch-chair i-is vi-vibrating m-my p-poopie d-d-diaper!"

Have a great weekend!

Day 1020 - Conversations with Emma & Andrew

Much akin to the film My Dinner with Andre, Emma and Andrew had a stimulating dinner conversation that covered the gamut of social, cultural, and political topics with a simple metaphorical motif...

Emma: Do you want to know something, Andrew?

Andrew: What?

Emma: Poo-poo!

Hysterical laughter follows.

Andrew: You wanna know something, Emma?

Emma: What?

Andrew: Poo-poo!

More hysterical laughter.

Emma: You want to know something, Andrew?

Andrew: What?

Emma: Poo-poo!

Even more hysterical laughter.

And if you want to know the true extent of this conversation, please read this blog entry fourteen more times...

Day 1019 - Poll Results & New Poll

Last week, I asked what should be done about Andrew's crying fits for his mommy. Surprisingly, forty-one percent voted that I should divorce Lisa and get a new mommy. Not too far behind, thirty-three percent said that we should should just tuck Andrew into bed and not cater to his whines. And I guess I should acknowledge to those forty-one percent who voted for divorce that I never realized how comfortable it would be to sleep on a sofa for a week.

I eventually figured out why Andrew was crying for mommy at night. There was a span of a week when I was working late (wink-wink), so Lisa would stay with the kids in the bedroom until I came home. I think Andrew got used to this, so once my work hours returned to normal, Andrew was accustomed to Lisa staying in the bedroom with him.

We did decide to let Andrew cry it out for a few nights, and by the weekend, Andrew was sleeping by himself again. But it was really hard for Lisa to hear him cry for her. "Why oh why," said Lisa. "Why must he love me so much than you? It's tough to be loved...not that you would know."

On a side note, does anyone have a travel sewing kit so I can mend my broken heart?

**********

A big change happened with the kids recently. No, their balls did not drop. The big change is that they are now sleeping in toddler beds! Good bye, cribs; hello, beds.

After months of the kids climbing in and out of their cribs, they became experts at it. Watching them flip in and out of the cribs was like watching little Asian kids auditioning for Cirque du Soleil. It was basically time for the kids to transition into a bed.

For the first few nights, there were a few standard bed mishaps. Both Andrew and Emma rolled out of their beds and fell asleep on the floor. The kids knocked their heads on the safety rail a few times. And the kids found a bloody horse head underneath their sheets on three separate occasions.

But the main problem we are having with the kids is during nap time. This freedom to get out of bed any time they want has gotten out of control. Once the door is closed, this is their cue to destroy their bedroom. They have climbed on the changing table, sat on the top of a three-drawer bookshelf, pulled all of their clothes out of their drawers, and stripped themselves naked. The last time our house got this crazy was when Crazy Grandma and Lazy Grandpa overdosed on ecstasy.

What should we do? Give up on nap time? Be strict and punish bad behavior? Have them nap in an iron lung?

Day 1018 - Conversations with Andrew

I was chasing Andrew around the house for fun; the last time was not fun because he had a butane torch and a can of WD-40. When I caught him, he didn't want the fun to end.

Andrew said, "Do it again, Mommy!"

Occasionally, the kids call me Mommy instead of Daddy. I suppose it's an honest mistake since they see much more of Lisa when I'm working, and I also enjoy wearing Lisa's underwear.

I corrected Andrew. "I'm not Mommy. I'm Daddy!"

"Do it again, Daddy!" said Andrew.

I chased Andrew around the house and caught him again.

"Do it again, Mommy!" said Andrew.

Hmm. My parental ego was becoming deflated.

I again corrected Andrew. "I'm not Mommy. I'm Daddy."

I wondered to myself if the kids did not see enough of me during the weekday or should I stop wearing Lisa's underwear? This time I decided to change my underwear.

"Do it again, Daddy!" repeated Andrew.

So once more, I chased Andrew around the house and caught him.

Annoyingly, Andrew said, "Do it again, Mommy!"

Enough was enough. I had to set him straight.

"Andrew, I am not Mommy. I am your Daddy. Why do you keep on calling me Mommy for?" I asked Andrew.

Andrew looked up at me and simply said after an appropriate pause, "I joke, Daddy. It just a joke."

Great...not only does Andrew look like me, but he has my sarcastic and annoying sense of humor too.

Day 1017 - Best Laid Plans

We drove to Sacramento yesterday for my high school reunion which is tonight. When you're driving six hours with toddler twins, it's very important to figure out what time to leave. A little too early might make the kids too antsy; leaving too late might make the kids too grumpy. So when it is possible, I like to leave just before their nap because they end up falling asleep during the middle of the trip.

My travel itinerary was the following:

9a-12:30p -- Go to work.
12:30p -- Leave work for home.
1:15p -- Arrive at home.
1:45p -- Leave Los Angeles.
4:30 - 5p -- Snack.
7:30p -- Arrive in Sacramento.
7:31p -- Go to sleep.

But of course when you travel with twins in Los Angeles, your plans are always f&#*ed up.

Everything was going according to plan until I arrived home a little before 1:30pm. Lisa was on the floor and the place was a mess. No, Lisa was not binge drinking again. You see, the kids picked some toys and books to put into their little travel backpacks. But Andrew took his toys out of his backpack and misplaced his most prized possession: his Lightning McQueen car.

After spending 20 minutes trying to find the damn car, Lisa finally found it stuck between the wall and a safety gate. I quickly did several trips up and down the elevator to pack the car, and off we went at around 2pm.

2pm was actually a perfect time because the kids usually nap around 2:30pm. My thought was that the kids would be awake for about 30 minutes, and then fall asleep for their usually 90 minutes; we would have two hours of travel time under our belt!

As we quickly made our way up the 405, the traffic came to a halt as we merged on to the 5. I assumed it was just a little Friday traffic, so I remained calm. But two hours later, I was ready to gouge my eyes with my glasses because we only drove seventeen miles. Unfortunately, there was a brush fire along the side of the freeway so the 4-lanes merged into a narrow 2-lanes.

The only thing I was correct about during this time is that the kids did take their 90 minute nap and awoke just in time as the traffic cleared. Great. 17 miles down, 350 more to go. 350 long and excruciating miles.

We ended up having to make more stops than we planned because the kids were too energetic after their nap. I even let them run along side us for awhile, but the kids couldn't run any faster than 15 mph.

After much crying, many tears, and constant whining, Lisa told me to stop acting like that because I was being a bad role model for the kids. What should've been a 6 hour trip ending up being an 8 1/2 hour trip. We didn't arrive in Sacramento until 10pm. And what made matters worse is that the kids slept for an hour before we arrived at Crazy Grandma and Lazy Grandpa's house. This meant they were slightly reenergized and ready to play.

About an hour later, we decided it was time to put the kids to sleep. We explained to them that they were going to sleep in new beds, and it was very fun and exciting. Emma was enthusiastic, but Andrew was not. How could we tell? Perhaps it was the two hours of crying that followed because Andrew did not want to go to sleep in a new bed and in a new room.

At around 1:30am, the entire house was finally asleep except for Lisa and me. We both rolled into bed exhausted and were ready for a nice sleep. As I curled in bed, I enjoyed the silence for the first time throughout the day. Until Lisa began to grind her teeth because she forgot to put her mouthguard in.

So I slowly turned over, grabbed my glasses, and gouged my ears. Ahh...sweet silence.

Day 1016 - Picture Friday

"I am SO happy that someone finally said I look nothing like my Daddy."

Emma's face expresses the confusion of the oxymoron that is Spam Lite.

You make the call: Andrew just ate parmesan cheese or a lice comb.

Emma is still confused over Spam Lite...

Have a great weekend!

Day 1015 - Quick Trip to Sacramento

On top of our impending move, this weekend is my high school reunion up in Sacramento. So needless to say, the updates might be sparse over the next few days. I will just be extremely busy getting ready for the reunion. My skin peel is scheduled for today, and my botox session is tomorrow.

We'll return back home to Los Angeles on Monday, but I'll try to post a few pictures or videos of the kids being spoiled and pampered by Crazy Grandma and Lazy Grandpa!

Day 1013 - Crazy Grandma Ichikawa Storytime

I hope your straitjackets are back from the dry cleaners because it's time for another edition of...Crazy Grandma Ichikawa Storytime!

Occasionally, Lisa and Crazy Grandma will talk on the phone or over the computer, and each time the conversation inevitably ends up like a lisp convention: well-meaning, but ultimately misunderstood.

One day, Crazy Grandma and Lisa were talking about the different television shows they watch.
After Crazy Grandma listed off the numerous pay-per-view fetish shows she watches religiously, she also mentioned she enjoys the television show Psych.

One of Lisa's former student's parents is an executive producer on Psych, so Lisa told Crazy Grandma that one of her former parents helped create the show.

"One of your parents made the show? How many parents you have?" said a confused Crazy Grandma.

"No," explained Lisa. "One of my student's parent is a producer on the show. You know, the one who got us the David Letterman tickets." You see, this particular parent used to work for Letterman's production company so she would occasionally get us tickets to see the Letterman show when we used to vacation in New York.

"Ooooooh," said Crazy Grandma. "I remember dat parent. Hey! She was suppose to git us tickets for Letterman too but she nevah did!"

"Yup! That's right! We got to see it and you didn't! Ha ha ha!" teased Lisa.

"Well dat okay, " answered Crazy Grandma. "I no rike him anymore anyway. He suck! Suck suck suck! Suck it!"

What makes this story even worse, is that with Crazy Grandma's thick Japanese accent, she often says the letter S instead of the letter F.

Day 1012 - Poll Results & New Poll

Last week I asked whether or not there is anything worse than moving with 2 1/2 year old twins. It is clear to me that there is very little sympathy coming my way because fifty percent of you told me to suck it up and just deal with it. But thankfully there are forty percent of you who have a heart and great compassion and have just become additions to my will because you agree with me that there is nothing worse.

Currently, we are less than one month away from moving, and we have a long way to go before this place is packed up. The problem I am finding is that you can't leave packed boxes out in the open where the kids are around. Therefore, none of the rooms that the kids have access to have been packed up yet. All we have been able to pack up is part of our bedroom and the fetish dungeon. I am truly dreading the thought of the move and not having access to my mascot costumes and handcuffs.

**********

The kids have always been pretty good sleepers. After their bedtime book, we give them their brandy snifters and Lucky Strike cigarettes and eventually tuck the kiddies into bed; the kids love Mad Men. But the past few nights, Andrew has acted uncharacteristically like a...well...baby.

Just as Lisa and I are about to leave the bedroom, Andrew starts to freak out and screams, "Mommy! Mommy!" He tries to pull her back into bed, so Lisa will give him one last kiss and hug and leave the room. Then I stay in the room to try and calm him down. He continues to scream "Mommy! Mommy!" until I try to leave the room and he gives me the back-up scream "Daddy! Daddy!" One time I tried to leave the room, but Andrew pounced out of bed and grabbed my leg. What's even more sad is that I wasn't strong enough to get Andrew off.

I understand that kids go through different phases, but I'm not too sure how to deal with this new behavior. Now that the kids are more sophisticated with their emotions and thoughts, it doesn't seem as simple to leave Andrew crying in the bedroom. There is a definite difference between a 12 month old Andrew crying "Mama" versus a 2 1/2 year old Andrew crying "Mother! Why must you abandon me at a time of great emotional discomfort?"

What do you think? Do we just let Andrew cry it out? Do we try to use reason? Do we get larger brandy snifters?

Day 1010 - How 'Bout Now?

There are many famous catchphrases. Robert DeNiro has "You talkin' to me?" Tom Cruise has "Show me the money!" Mel Gibson has "I hope you are &*#^ by a pack of $%*(&%^*!" And now Andrew has his very own catchphrase: How 'bout now?

What is the context in which Andrew's catchphrase is used? Unfortunately, he uses it when we ask him not to do something. For example, let's say that Andrew is standing on the coffee table, and we ask him to get down. Instead of getting completely off the table, Andrew may squat on the table.

"How 'bout now?"

We ask him to get off the table again. Andrew takes one leg off the table.

"How 'bout now?"

We tell Andrew he must get off the table. Andrew takes the other leg off the table.

"How 'bout now?"

We draw a diagram showing Andrew what "off the table" means. Andrew puts one foot on the floor.

"How 'bout now?"

We hire a Japanese midget to play Andrew in a short play we wrote titled "When Andrew Got Off the Table." Andrew finally puts both feet on the floor.

Admittedly, at first it was pretty cute to hear Andrew repeatedly say, "How 'bout now?" But the novelty has worn off, and we're trying to explain to him that "How 'bout now?" is not a sufficient answer. We have told him that when we ask him not to do something it is because we want him to safe and not hurt himself. As a last measure, we have also shown him the social service scenes from the movie Precious; he is terrified of Mariah Carey with a mustache.

I believe there is progress with Andrew's behavior. He listens to us more often, and he has not said "How 'bout now?" for a few days. Although I must tell you that instead of saying "How 'bout now?", he has replaced it with "Kiss my ass." Back to the drawing board...

Day 1009 - Picture Friday

Either Andrew just finished watching The Karate Kid or Billy Elliot.

Emma dresses up like Pocahontas to wish Crazy Grandma and Lazy Grandpa good luck at the Indian casinos.

Not only did the entire Southland feel the July earthquake, but so did Andrew's toys.

Coming next summer...Corporate Mascot of the Caribbean!

Have a great weekend!

Day 1008 - A Present for Daddy

I was on the floor reading the Little Golden Book version of The Story of O to Andrew. After explaining the definition of submission and dominance to Andrew, Emma came up to me. She just stood next to me, so I asked her if something was wrong.

"I have something for you, Daddy," said Emma.

Ooo. I love me some presents. I wondered what it could be! I opened my hands and waited for some opulent present from my sweet princess.

"Here you go," said Emma as she dropped an indeterminable object into my hand.

I looked and rolled it between my fingers. It actually looked like Emma picked up a piece of food from the floor, so I gave it a quick smell and guessed that it was a piece of corn.

"Emma, is this corn?"

"No," answered Emma.

I took a really close look at it again and gave it one more good whiff. I was certain it was a piece of corn.

"Emma, where did you get this?"

"My nose," she said.

DAMMIT! IT WAS A BOOGER!

After the kids saw me do my freak dance, I grabbed a tissue and threw it away. I didn't understand why Emma decided to grant me the pleasure of holding her nose crap when I see the kids throwing away actual trash into the trash can all day long. Does Emma think there is a difference between an old crayon and a nose turd where the nose turd is too valuable to throw away in the garbage?

I eventually explained to Emma that she should not pick her nose, and if she had something in her nose she should ask for a tissue. And as an after thought, I sat her down to explain that when she poops in her diaper, she should never hand it to me...because this is something that Mommy would rather hold. Have fun, Lisa!

Day 1006 - Conversations with Emma

The great thing about being a father to toddlers is that you can ask your kids loaded questions like "Do you love me?", "Did you miss me?", "Isn't Mommy's jeans a little too tight?", and you can get the answer that you want back. Unfortunately with my kids, more often than not I do not get the response that I want.

I was about to put Emma into bed when I asked her, "Who do you think is the best daddy in the world?"

Emma playfully smiled and said, "Andrew?"

"No," I said. "Andrew's your brother."

"How about...Mommy?"

I again said, "No. Mommy's not your daddy."

"How about...Emma?"

"No. You're Emma!" I grew impatient.

"So," I continued. "Who is the best daddy?"

"I dunno," said Emma.

Pathetically, I asked Emma, "How about me? Am I the best daddy?"

"No," answered Emma a little too fast for my fragile ego.

"If I'm not the best daddy, who is the best daddy?"

Emma looked into the air and said with a shrug, "It's a mystery!"

Day 1005 - Poll Results & New Poll

Long, long, ago in a blog posting far, far away...I asked if there was a way to teach our kids to use their cups properly without spitting, drooling, and dripping. Sixty-three percent of you believed that we should just let them be toddlers, and one day they will learn how to use a cup. Twenty-seven percent thought the opposite and believed that we should discipline the kids when they play with their cups.

Weeks have past since this poll, and the kids are still using their cups as a mixture of water hydration device and oral drool enhancer. Lisa and I have taken a compromised stand on the water cup problem. We only give the cup to them at the end of their meal, and if they play with their water too much, then we take it away from them. I don't think there's too much harm with them blowing the occasional water bubbles, but I will draw the line at the dinner table if they start to make water bubbles from their cups with their butts.

**********

As I mentioned before, we are in the process of closing escrow on a townhouse. Between work, moving, and my weekend job as Mulan at Disney California Adventure, it has been a rather exhausting few months. I don't see any true relief in sight until September when I plan to have unpacked the last moving box. And to be clear about the unpacking, when I say September, I mean September 2012.

I hate moving. I hate it so much, if I was given the choice of moving or cannibalism, all I have to say is, "Pass the ketchup." But with the kids, I can't imagine how much worse it will be. We're going to hire movers and a handyman to do some fixes around the new place, but beyond that, I think the actual move and unpacking is going to be extremely tiring and frustrating. It's hard enough opening up a small Amazon box around the kids without them crowding me and fighting over the bubble wrap and masking tape.

Is it possible there is something worse than moving to a new house with 2 1/2 year old twins? What do you think?

Day 1004 - Craigslist Disaster

Although Crazy Grandma and Lazy Grandpa returned to Sacramento last month, we still had to fulfill the lease commitment to their apartment and pay through the month of July. So imagine my surprise and satisfaction when the leasing office called and told me that someone was interested in renting the apartment immediately. If I was able to clear out the apartment, then they would prorate us the difference from the rest of the month. Score!

I would be able to clear out the apartment by myself except for three items: the sofabed, the queen sized mattress/box spring, and the seven year old panda bear. After a tasty lunch of panda stew, I just had to figure out how to get rid of the sofa and the bed. And then it came to me. Where is the one place you can buy furniture and find a lover (besides the Ikea in the Red Light District)? Craigslist!

After posting the items, I got a bunch of inquiries and made a deal for the sofa and the bed. A young couple came by to pick up the sofa bed. After I pointed out the milk stain (breast milk, that is) and food marks (diaper leakage), they were more than happy to lug the sofa out of the apartment. Later in the day, a woman said she would come to pick up the bed.

I told her specifically to make sure she brings a friend because that is the only way to get the bed out of the apartment. So imagine how happy I was to see her arrive by herself. Imagine my further happiness when I found out she was this little Japanese woman who could probably hardly carry a crib mattress on her back.

She explained to me that her sister was suppose to come to help her with the bed, but she was unable to come. The woman really wanted the bed, and I really wanted to clear out the apartment, so I decided to help her carry the bed to her car.

I wasn't too sure how this was going to work: a Japanese girl and a Japanese boy who occasionally has been mistaken as a girl carrying out a queen-sized bed did not seem to be a good idea. And a good idea it was not.

Dragging the mattress to her car was not as bad as I thought. Even getting the mattress to the top of her 4Runner was pretty easy. She brought a lot of rope, so I tied it down properly thanks to my participation in Boy Scouts and S&M conventions.

But getting the box spring down was another matter. Although the box spring was much lighter than the mattress, it was not flexible which made it much more difficult getting it around corners. When we made it to the elevator, the box spring stuck out a few inches so the door would not close. The woman swore that if we removed the paneling from the top of the elevator, then the box spring would make the clearance. I told her not to do it. She did it. Somehow her little self got to the top paneling and knocked it down...onto me.

As I saw the metal grate fall on top of me, I put my arms up to protect my face. Of course the grate cut my hands, and I began to bleed. I pushed the box spring out of the elevator and tried to put the metal paneling back on the elevator. Unfortunately, my efforts made things worse because the other panels begun to get loose. I eventually gave up as the top of the elevator looked like a really bad M.C. Esher drawing.

The only way to get the box spring to her car was down three flights of stairs. As we got to the bottom of each flight, I had to flip the box spring over the railing so we could get down one more. I secretly imagined that the box spring would fall on top of her, but that would just be a waste of a perfectly good box spring.

Once again, we got down to the car, and I pushed the box spring on top of the mattress. I used my Boy Scout S&M skills to tie down everything as I continued to bleed from my hand. After she was satisfied with my performance, she handed me the money and thanked me for all my help.

Although I was so tired and angry about this entire situation, I figured she got a bed and I got the apartment cleared. So we both ended up getting what we wanted. The only decent thing I could do to show her my thanks was to shake her hand...with my bloody hand. Thank you, little Japanese woman who bought my bed and is now smeared with my blood. May my bed and blood give you happiness and hepatitis.

Day 1002 - Picture Friday

Either Emma is sick or she just finished watching Snoopy Come Home for the nineteenth time.

Andrew auditions as Turtle in Entourage: The Early Years.

Emma enjoys her Nokia Pull N' Go cell phone.

Due to a terrible time travel accident, Scott holds himself as a two year old.

Have a great weekend!

Day 1001 - Conversations with Andrew

We have been trying to get the kids to understand the difference between their first name, last name, and nickname.

For instance, Lisa would explain to the kids, "Daddy's first name is Scott. Daddy's last name is Ichikawa. And Daddy's nickname is f*&(ing dumbass." I hope the kids don't call me by my nickname; it's my pet name, after all.

Andrew doesn't understand the concept of a nickname, and he doesn't have one yet anyways. Unless "Stopthat" or "Dontyoudaretouchthat" are considered nicknames. So we decided to test out his understanding of the difference between a first and last name.

"Andrew," we asked. "What's your first name?"

"Andrew!" he shouted with conviction.

"Andrew," we asked "What's your last name?"

Andrew thought.

"Do you know what your last name is?"

Andrew thought some more.

"Your first name is Andrew. So your last name is..."

Finally, Andrew got it. "Itchy Ka-ka!"

Day 999 - Summer Movies

Lisa and I love going to the movies. Obviously as the kids get older, it is getting more and more difficult to go to the movies since it is becoming more and more difficult to hide the kids in our movie fanny packs.

The only summer movies we have seen so far are Iron Man 2 and Toy Story 3. Lisa wanted to see Sex and the City 2, but she said seeing me walk around home on the weekends in high heels is good enough for her.

Hopefully we will be able to see a few more movies before the summer is over, but in the meantime I wanted to share with you an old trailer for a movie that epitomizes summer movies. Take a look and you'll see what I mean.

Day 997 - 4th of July Blow Out

Happy 4th of July! Our celebration was filled with noise, explosions, and exhaustion...because both Emma and Andrew are sick with a cold. The only explosions we saw tonight were green and yellow, and they came out of the kids' nose and ass.

It's unfortunate that the kids were sick for the three-day weekend because we were hoping we could do something more interesting with them than our usual trips to Target and Costco; this weekend, we could've gone to Bed, Bath & Beyond and Sam's Club. Instead, we just kept them home with their weekend friends, Kleenex and Whiskey.

We tried to make the day a little interesting for them by telling them how we could watch fireworks on television tonight. The kids seemed very excited about it, but anything on television is exciting. They would've been thrilled to CSPAN for three hours.

I knew PBS had a 4th of July celebration on television at 8pm, so I figured that would be the best program to watch. Lisa and I explained to Emma and Andrew how fun it was going to be to see fireworks on television with music. Unfortunately, I had no idea how long it was going to take for the fireworks to actually happen.

There was at least an hour of songs, speeches, and music before a single firework went off. All of these PBS people came on: Charlie Rose sang Seventy-Six Trombones, the guys from Antique Roadshow performed a scene from Our Town, and Tavis Smiley did an interpretive dance to You're a Grand Ole Flag.

The kids were getting grumpy because they were sick and it was getting late. But when we tried to put them to bed, they screamed and cried because we told them we were going to watch fireworks on television. Much like a lonely hermaphrodite, we screwed ourselves.

A little after 9pm, the fireworks started. We let it play for about five minutes, and then told them it was time to go to sleep. By this time, everyone was exhausted so there was little argument.

When I remember my childhood, many of my immediate memories are not of the big vacations or planned events, but rather the smaller more intimate times that were unplanned and spontaneous. So although we weren't able to take the kids out to see fireworks, we still hope they had a memorable night of spending time together and watching Tavis Smiley in a white leotard. If that isn't memorable, I don't know what is.

Day 996 - Fill 'Er Up

The kids were really thirsty today. We gave them plenty of water and diluted apple juice to quench their thirst. So before we went out for dinner and a quick stop to the grocery store, we diligently changed their diapers. And any opening paragraph that uses the word "diligently" is bound to descend into a world of embarrassment and stupidity.

Emma and Andrew were well-behaved during dinner, and neatly ate their cheese pizza, fruit, and drank a cup of milk. Before we left the restaurant, Lisa and I did a quick pat on the butt to make sure no one had to be changed. Oh. We also checked the kids, and they were fine too.

At the grocery store, we put the kids into the shopping carts and quickly went up and down the aisle to grab a few essentials. Auntie Anne (pretzel maven) came along too and was pushing Andrew around. But the fun was soon to end.

"Hey," observed Auntie. "Andrew's legs sure are sweaty."

I looked at Andrew and corrected Auntie Anne (pretzel maven) after she finished wiping Andrew's legs down with her bare hands. "It's pee," I said.

As Auntie Anne (pretzel maven) went looking down aisle 14 for hand sanitizer, I took Andrew to the car to change his diaper. I must say as I began to remove his pants, I have never seen fuller underwear. Albeit, there was that time in college when me and my friends tried to all fit into one pair of underwear, but that wasn't a good idea since we were all members of the Sexually Transmitted Disease Glee Club.

Since Andrew's pants were soaking wet with pee, I just placed him back into his car seat with only his diapers. I figured between the amount of urine he just expelled and the five minute drive home, the likelihood of another pee problem was not that large.

But the funniest thing that happened was on the drive home. All of sudden, it must have dawned upon Andrew that he was only wearing his diapers because he started shouting, "Where my pants? Where my pants go?"

We explained to him that his pants got wet, so we had to drive home to get him more pants. I don't think that calmed him down because he continued to shout, "I have no pants! Where my pants? I have no pants!"

Pretty soon, we all started to copy Andrew and pretended we didn't have pants on either.

"I have no pants," said Emma.

"Where my pants go?" asked Lisa.

"Daddy has no pants," I said.

"I don't wear any pants either," said the homeless man in the trunk.

After realizing a homeless man with no pants snuck into the back on the SUV while I was strapping Andrew into his car seat, we dropped the vagrant off at the next gas station and proceeded home a little unsettled.

Day 995 - Picture Friday

What's most interesting about this picture is how perfectly the white laptop matches Scott's pasty, white legs.

Emma unravels Mommy's personal secret stash of extra-extra-extra-extra absorbent toilet paper.

What's more amazing: That Andrew was able to keep this up for 10 minutes or that Emma only threw up twice?

"Don't be ridiculous! Whoever heard of a red monkey attacking kids? Wait...what was that?"

Have a great weekend!

Day 994 - Angry Andrew

This past weekend, Andrew and Auntie Anne (pretzel maven) had an interesting encounter. We were all at our friend's birthday party, and it was getting close to nap time for the kids. For those of you without kids, getting close to nap time is like getting Nicole Kidman near a botox clinic: something terrible is bound to happen.

I was rounding up everyone when Andrew sprinted off to the backyard. Since I had Emma in my arms, I asked Auntie Anne (pretzel maven) to go get Andrew. After a few minutes, they still didn't come back. So as I began to walk to the backyard, out came Auntie Anne (pretzel maven) carrying a furious Andrew who repeatedly slapped his aunt across her head.

Immediately, I became very concerned because Andrew was whacking his aunt's hair all over the place. I remembered that Auntie Anne (pretzel maven) once had lice as a child, and there was no way in hell that she was going to affect my boy with her dirty scalp. When she told me she no longer had lice, I calmed down and asked her what happened.

When Andrew ran into the backyard, he wanted a cup of water. He tried to get some water out of a water dispenser, but he grabbed his plastic cup so tight that it cracked. Auntie Anne (pretzel maven) took the cup away from him and told him he could not use that cup. Andrew became angry. He found another cup, but this cup was on the ground. Once again, Auntie Anne (pretzel maven) took the cup away and told him the cup was dirty. Andrew became pissed. When the cup was taken away, Andrew bit Auntie Anne's (pretzel maven) finger! That's when she picked Andrew up, and he began to swat away at her allegedly lice-free head.

I've seen our kids have a meltdown before, so that wasn't anything new. But what was new for me was to see Andrew try to explain what happened to anyone who would listen. The first thing he told Lisa when he saw her was, "I bit Auntie Anne!"

And when he video chatted with Crazy Grandma and Lazy Grandpa, he recounted the story with his limited vocabulary:

I wanted wa-wa. Auntie Anne wouldn't give me wa-wa. I cry, cry, cry. I bit her.

It's all quite amusing to me, but I really need to tell Andrew that it's not necessary to emphasize the stuff that puts him in a bad light (i.e. the biting). I learned this from experience when I was telling Lisa what I did one weekend when she was gone:

I really missed you. I started to read letters you wrote to me. I was lonely. So I got a hooker.