Day 1389 - Not-Very-Handyman

When I have enough energy, I try to be a little handy around the house on the weekends.  I might change the batteries in the remote controls.  Or I might move the sofa so Lisa can vacuum underneath it.  Handy stuff like that.

But today, I actually tried to do something handy:  fix a slow draining tub.  I did a Google and YouTube search on how to remedy a slow drain and felt comfortable enough to do it myself.  So I grabbed my tools and attempted to save myself a hundred dollars.

The first step was to dislodge any loose hairs in the drain.  I took an old wire hanger, cut it, and made a little hook on the end.  I stuck it down the drain and fished around for anything.  Nothing came up.

The second step was to plunge the tub.  I removed the stopper, stuffed the hole with a small towel, filled the tub with a little hot water, and then plunged away.  Soon, the tub began filling up with a lot of debris.  At first I was excited, but as I continued I became a little nauseous at the site of hair clumps floating in a murky soup of brown.  I removed the small towel, but the tub was not draining.  Oh oh.

The third step was to use a plumbing snake.  I borrowed one from a friend at work, and pushed the wire down the drain.  I went several feet down until I came to a stop.  I pushed as hard as I could, but the snake would not go down any further.  As my first girlfriend said, "You have problems with holes."

Sadly, there was nothing else I could do so I called a plumber.  Within thirty minutes, he arrived with a powered snake that had a reach of 80 feet.  I watched him maneuver the snake down the drain until he was able to push the clog into the main sewage line.  I was so happy to see our tub drain; I was not so happy to see him pull out the snake with a tribble made of human hair.

Emma was very curious why there was a plumber inside the bathroom, so Lisa had to explain why the tub was not draining.

"The plumber is here because there is a lot of hair in the pipes.  And that's why the water is not draining," explained Lisa.

"Hair?" gasped Emma.  "My hair?"

"Yes," said Lisa.

"Andrew's hair?" asked Emma.

"Yes."

"Mommy's hair?" continued Emma.

"Yes."

"Daddy's hair?" questioned Emma.

"Yes."

"Even Daddy's hairy knee hairs?" said Emma pointedly.

As if my day wasn't embarrassing enough to my masculinity, my three year old daughter has to make fun of the only place on my body that has hair besides my head.  Why won't the women of the house leave my knees alone?

Day 1388 - Pancake Flip Out

Andrew loves pancakes.  Every weekend, we either make pancakes at home or we go out for some.  This particular day we ventured out to our local IHOP to grace their homogeneous clientele with some international Asian flavor.

We ordered Andrew a plate of silver dollar pancakes which he gladly devoured because they fit perfectly in his mouth.  But before stuffing his facial orifice with cooked batter, he would tear the pancakes into half so he could dip it into a small bowl of syrup.  But this particular pancake he tore did not cooperate.

Instead of tearing into half, the pancake crumbled into his hands and tore apart like a fluffy pita.  As you can see in this video, this did not make Andrew very happy.

Day 1387 - Picture Friday

"I think I just sat on a telephone pole!"

"Mommy was right.  I really should try something before saying I won't like it.  And now I love to eat human feet!"

"Don't worry, Emma.  I'll cover up your pee by pouring some water on it."

Bucket seat + no testicles = good times!

Have a great weekend!

Day 1386 - Oz or Andrew?

I really hope this is not going to be a regular feature of this blog, but I call this entry "Oz or Andrew?"

For those of you not familiar with the HBO television show Oz, it was about a fictionalized maximum security prison; you can imagine the type of activities that goes on in prison.

And for those of you not familiar with my son, Andrew, please feel free to read any of the previous 1,256 entries in this blog.

The way this will work is that I will give you a single quote, and you have to guess whether it was from the television show Oz or if Andrew said it.  Easy enough, right?

So here we go...who said the following:

"Let me see your bottom so I can put my wee-wee in it!"

Day 1384 - Conversations With Your Wife

For those of you who do not have three year old toddlers, a conversation with your wife goes something like this:

I begin to say to Lisa, "Hey, Honey!  I wanted to tell you that..."

"Daddy!" interrupts Andrew.  "Chick Hicks is bad because he bumps!"

"Umm...okay.  But I wanted to tell Mommy..."

"Daddy!" interrupts Emma.  "I want something to drink.  I want juice!"

"We don't have juice..."

"And then The King gets bumped and gets all dirty over and over and over!" says Andrew frantically.

"But I want juice!" screams Emma.

"Yes, The King gets dirty, and we only have water."

"I want juice!  Juice!" demands Emma.

"The King wants water?" Andrew says with confusion.

"No.  Emma wants juice."

"I want juice too!" whines Andrew.

"Emma!  Andrew!  Quiet!" scolds Lisa.  "Daddy is trying to tell me something.  What were you saying?"

"...never mind..." I say as my thought floats away with my sanity.

When you have twins who think they have mastered the skill of conversation, you find yourself saying "never mind" quite often.  If you have anything important to say, you better spit it out in under five seconds.  Thankfully, I have the timed the sentence "Take me to the hospital I'm having a heart attack" in under three seconds.  Unfortunately, I have not been able to get under five seconds "I know what you are thinking, but I don't know who she is, and why she is naked on top of me in our bed."

Sometimes you even give up trying to have any adult conversations when your kids are around because you know it's an attempt in futility.  It's like asking for bacon at a kosher deli or asking TMZ to stop covering anything involving real housewives or Lindsey Lohan.

And when the kids are finally asleep, you find yourself too tired to say anything at all.  My laziness has gotten to the point where I brush my teeth in the shower with shampoo and my foot loofah.  Which may explain the Athlete's Foot on my tongue.

Despite this onslaught of daylong toddler talk, the upside to this all is that you're witnessing your child developing.  You gain insight on what they think is funny, what scares them, and what interests them (The answer to all of them is poop.).  Most importantly, you are creating a familial bond that goes beyond anything you can imagine.

So sure there will be times when you won't be able to tell your wife a joke you heard at work because Emma is talking about Hello Kitty.  Or you can't discuss the family budget because Andrew is explaining why Mater is McQueen's best friend.  But at the very least, you know your wife reads the blog in the morning so you can tell her that you need her to buy more coffee at the grocery store and that you found an intriguing morsel of something (raisin or poop?) underneath the dining table that needs to be vacuumed.

Day 1382 - ICE CREAM!

On the weekends, I try to carry around our point and shoot camera because you never know what the kids might be up to.  Actually, I stand corrected because I have Lisa carry around the camera in her big ass purse.   She often complains having to lug the camera around, but I don't see what the harm is when she already has bottled water, boxes of raisins, make-up, a cell phone, seven tampons, and mace in there.

While we were chasing the kids up and down 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica, the kids got very excited when they saw a four foot tall ice cream cone sculpture.  As they ran to it, I told Lisa to get me the camera.  After she accidentally handed me her maxipad pouch, I eventually got the camera and started to take pictures.

Pretty cute, right?  And as it is with the advent of the digital camera, one picture is never enough.  I began taking picture after picture hoping one of them would be the picture that would end all other Picture Friday entries.

But there was one little thing I didn't notice as I was playing self-involved photographer:

It was a damn trash can!   Lisa and I* felt foolish about this entire incident.  We immediately told the kids to stop touching and licking the ice cream sculpture because it was a trash can.  The kids were a little confused, but we showed them why and how it was a trash can;  I think it just made the kids even more confused.

I'll take a little blame for not realizing the ice cream cone was a receptacle for trash and vagrant waste, but why would you model a trash can like an ice cream cone?  Might as well make a urinal look like a water play table!  Or perhaps a stripper pole should look like a popsicle ("That popsicle don't taste like lemon-lime...").

Day 1381 - Release the Andrew!

Yesterday was our 11th wedding anniversary which incidentally coincides with my 11th no-longer-a-virgin anniversary.  Our friend, Lisa Haskins, was kind enough to babysit the kids while we snuck out to movie.  Emma and Andrew are very familiar with Lisa Haskins because she usually comes over once a week to bond with my wife over Bravo reality television programming.  I'm glad the kids are comfortable with Lisa Haskins because that means their fear of Caucasians is finally disappearing.

When the kids were younger, Lisa and I would just sneak out without a peep to the kids.  But now that the kids are older and tend to leave their beds, we tell them we are leaving, but will come back when they have fallen asleep.  And most importantly, we tell them not to wait up for us because it is extremely embarrassing to see your parents inebriated.

After I told the kid their bedtime stories, it was time for me to tell them that Mommy and Daddy were going out for the night. 

"Emma and Andrew.  Lisa Haskins is going to be downstairs because Mommy and Daddy have to go out for a little bit," I said.

The kids rebelled.  "Where are you going?" shouted Emma.

"Don't leave us!" screamed Andrew.

"You just go to sleep, and then Mommy and Daddy will be here when you wake up," I calmly stated.

"Why do you have to go?  Where?" demanded Emma and Andrew.

I felt it was my duty as a parent to tell them the truth.  "We are going to Costco."

Okay.  I lied.  But Costco certainly isn't as appealing as the cinema!

"I want to go!  I want to go!  Take me!" cried Andrew.

Emma was surprisingly calm, but Andrew was not taking this news very well.  He was grabbing on to me and would not return to bed.

I picked him up, gave him a big hug, and as I tucked him into bed I told him, "Costco is no fun.  We'll go there really fast and be right back."

And then came the fury.  Andrew is the child with the good-natured temperament, but this time he released his toddler Kraken.  He looked at me with an evil eye and stated this ultimatum, "You go and buy ONE thing and come RIGHT back!"  He emphasized his seriousness by hitting his pillow and then fell into bed.

Although hilarious, I couldn't leave him on that note.  So I bent over and whispered into his ear, "Oh silly child of mine.  It's impossible to buy only one thing at Costco."

We then said thank you to Lisa Haskins, drove to the movie theater, and had the most romantic anniversary ever watching Judy Moody and the Not Bummer Summer.

Day 1380 - Picture Friday

"Off with Lego Popsicleman's head!"

Andrew's fire truck is in a rush to ruin the closet door yet again!

"Arts and crafts?  More like arts and crap..."

"Mommy!  Tell me again how you used to work the pole like a high-end hooker!"

Have a great weekend!

Day 1379 - I'm A Hit!

Kids love me.  I don't know why, but they do.  It could be my goofy sense of humor.  Perhaps my ability to be engaging with youngsters.  Or possibly my extremely low IQ and propensity to throw temper tantrums and poop my shorts.  My wife thinks it's the latter.

The one downside to my sunnyside is that I have a temper.  I'm the type of person who can be extremely patient and calm 99% of the time.  But once the line is crossed to that last 1%, then I can turn quite Hulk-ish -- but without the green and rippling muscles.

One night, Lisa told Andrew and Emma to go upstairs to brush their teeth.  Andrew merrily galloped up the stairs, but Emma stubbornly remained downstairs playing with her toys.  I was recaulking the kitchen sink, so I asked Emma to follow Mommy and Andrew upstairs since my hand were full of caulk.

Emma ignored me.

This went on for many minutes.  Between smearing up the kitchen sink with caulk and Emma's civil disobedience, I was about to enter 1% Anger Land.  I gritted my teeth and mumbled, "Emma.  Last time.  Go.  Up.  Stairs."

And guess what Emma said to me?  She said, "     .     "

That was it.  I wiped my hands, stomped to Emma, picked her up, and sternly said in her face, "That's it!  You need to go up to Mommy RIGHT NOW!"  Then I put her back on the rug where she buried her face and began to cry.

Sure.  There was a part of me that wanted to give her a hug, but there was also a part of me that was afraid my terrible caulking job was about to dry up.  Emma continued to cry as I completed resealing the kitchen sink.  As I walked by her, I asked if she wanted to come upstairs with me.  She said nothing, so I went to put Andrew asleep.

As I told Andrew another Lightning McQueen story, Lisa went downstairs to get Emma.  I was getting into the groove of my Mater impression a la Larry the Cable Guy, when Lisa entered the bedroom with a hangdog Emma.

"Daddy," said Lisa.  "Emma has something to say to you."

I cocked my head towards Emma expecting an apology, a hug, or most likely, both.  Like I said at the beginning of this entry, kids love me!"

Emma wiped away her tears and said, "Daddy hit me."

WTF?  Unplug the phones and pay off the social workers!  What did Emma say? 

"Daddy hit me," said Emma.

That's what I thought she said!  I have no idea how she came up with this story!  I tried to retrack my steps, but at no time did I hit her!  All I did was lift her up and put her back on the play rug.  Perhaps when I put her down on the rug, her knees hit the floor?  I had no idea where Emma came up with this story.

As I explained to Emma that I did not hit her NOR would I ever hit her, Lisa looked at me with a devilish grin.  The sort of grin that says, "I'm the better parent and will never be put into a convalescent home."

Soon all was well, the kids got their good night hugs and kisses, and Lisa and I left their bedroom.  This whole incident exasperated me.  I bemoaned to Lisa how this could be a terrible thing if Emma ever said anything like this at school.  And this is when I got the double whammy.

Lisa recalled a story at preschool when she was talking to the teachers.  The teachers were commenting how Lisa seems to be the disciplinarian, and I'm the nice and fun parent.  But unfortunately for me, Lisa opened her unusually big Japanese mouth and told the teachers a little bit about my personality.

"I guess I'm stricter than Scott," Lisa agreed.  "But the one thing that Scott has that I don't is a temper.  When his patience is worn out, watch out!"

OOOOOOOH GREAAAAAAT!  Lisa has already planted the seed with the preschool teachers that I have a temper.  And one day, Emma is going to go to school and tell her teachers that her Daddy hit her.  Next thing you know, the cops will take me away, Lisa will remarry a wealthy lawyer, and I'll be someone's Twinkie biatch in prison.

Sigh.  Kids hate me.

Day 1377 - Conversations with Emma & Andrew

During their afternoon snack of apples and opium, the kids decided to sit in the chairs Lisa and I sit in.  As they sat around the dining table, Lisa asked them a few questions.

"Emma," Lisa said.  "Who are you?"

"I'm Mommy!" she beamed.

"And Andrew, who are you?" asked Lisa.

"I'm poopy Daddy," Andrew answered with his characteristic use of the word 'poopy' to describe any noun.

"So Mommy Emma, what did you do at work today?" Lisa inquired.

"I went to school, and I taught the kids how to count to five in Spanish.  Uno, dos, tres, quatro, cinco!" said an excited Emma all ready to conquer East Los Angeles.

"And Daddy Andrew, what did you do at work today?" queried Lisa.

"Umm.  Umm," said Andrew as he thought really hard to come up with the perfect response.  "I go to work, play games on computer, eat lunch, then come back home!"

And in my defense, Andrew is totally wrong with his description because there are actual days when I'm so busy playing computer games, I don't even eat lunch!  Back at you, sucker!

Day 1375 - Crazy Grandma Ichikawa Storytime

What's crazier than the Sarah Palin documentary The Undefeated grossing less than $75,000 during its opening weekend?  Why it's no other than...Crazy Grandma Ichikawa Storytime!

Since my father and I both use AT&T for our cell service, I always call my parents with my cell phone.  Although the obvious benefit is that the long distance phone call is free and I'm able to use the saved money towards whiskey and porn, there is one big disadvantage:  clarity.

I was talking to Crazy Grandma on the phone and was recounting a story about how Emma has had some peeing accidents at home.

"For some reason," I said.  "Emma has been having a lot of peeing accidents."

"Oh dat good," responded Crazy Grandma.

"That's good?" I asked.  "Why is that good?"

"Because her new teeth ah going ta come in," answered Crazy Grandma.

"What are you talking about?  I said Emma is peeing!" I tried to clarify.

"You try ice?" suggested Crazy Grandma.

"Why should I give her ice when she pees?"

"If new teeth come in, she probabee not too comfourtable," explained Crazy.

"Peeing!  Peeing" I shouted.

"Teething?" she said.

"No! I said Emma is peeing a lot!"

"Dat why I said to give her ice!"

"Not teeeeething!  PEEING!"

Crazy Grandma was silent for a few seconds, and then whispered, "That's good."

"You don't understand me, do you?" I scowled.

"I understand yu.  Don't shout at me!  All kid go through same ting.  Dey all teethe!" shouted Crazy.

"PEE!  PEE!  PEE!"

"TEETHE!  TEETHE!" echoed Crazy.

"LISTEN!  P!  E!  E!  EMMA IS HAVING PEEING ACCIDENTS!  PISS!  URINE!  PEE!" I screamed.

"Oooh.  Pee!" Crazy Grandma finally understood me.  "Den don't give her ice.  Might make her pee more."

Day 1373 - Picture Friday

Milk:  It does a body good!

Milk:  It also makes your eyes super big when drinking with a straw.

"Hmm.  Can you tell me everything on your menu again?"

"Emma!  I told you!  All we serve is cheeseburger, no Pepsi, Coke!"

Have a great weekend!

Day 1372 - Bent Out of Shape

Since the days have been hotter, I try to cool the kids down.  Sometimes I grab our little Vornado and blow it on the kids.   Occasionally, we take a trip to Yogurtland for a small cup of frozen yogurt.  And if the kids are especially good, I let them turn our central A/C down to 74 degrees.

But the one thing that the kids really enjoy is snow cones.  We don't have an industrial sized ice shaver, but we do have a little Cuisinart hand blender.  I'll take a handful of ice cubes, toss them into the blender with some fruit juice and real fruit, and blend it until it turns into a nice, slushy treat.

I crush up the ice cubes before I toss them into the blender with a mallet, but there was a day when I couldn't find the mallet.  So I looked through our drawer and found a potato masher.  It was made of metal, so it was sturdy enough.  I covered the ice cubes with a towel, and began cracking the ice.  As I continuously looked under the towel to check the status of the cubes, I noticed they were not cracking much at all.  Why, you may ask?  Because I broke the potato masher!

Well, I didn't totally break the masher, but I rendered it un-potato mashable.  The metal masher bent under the pressure of the ice cubes.  I tried to figure out my next move, but the kids were getting impatient.

"Why you stop?" asked Andrew.

"Oh.  Well.  I broke the masher," I answered.

"You broke it?" exclaimed Emma.  "How you broke it?"

"The ice cubes were too hard to mash with the masher," I explained.

I saw where this was going:  the kids were soon going to obsess over how I broke the potato masher.  So I decided to quickly make this a non-issue.

"Don't worry about the masher.  It's okay.  Don't tell Mommy!  The important thing is that we have to make your yummy snow cones!" I beamed with cynical joy.  The kids cheered.

I thought this whole snow cone/potato masher episode was behind me, until I returned from work the next day.  As I entered from the back door, Lisa caught me by surprise.

"Do you have something to tell me?" she asked.

I knew this was a set-up.  What could it be?  Did she find out I broke her glasses?  Did she find my stash of Kathy Bates pornography?  I didn't know what to say, so I said my good old stand-by answer, "Duh.  I dunno."

With that, Lisa pulled out the unmashable masher!  How did she find out about the masher?  I hid it in the one place where she would never find it -- the cookbook shelf.

She began to explain to me that while she was preparing dinner for the kids, Emma kept on telling her, "Daddy broke that.  Daddy broke that."  She didn't know what Emma was talking about until Emma specifically pointed out the broken masher on the shelf.

"Daddy broke that," said Emma.  "He was trying to break ice, but it didn't work.  He broke it.  Daddy say not to tell you he broke it.  But he broke it."

Lisa and I had a good laugh over Emma being a tattletale.  But deep inside, I panicked as I had to figure out a way to prevent Emma from telling Lisa why Kathy Bates dropped in for a surprise visit yesterday afternoon.

Day 1370 - Quote of the Day

Day 1368 - Poop Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

As most guys will admit, poop humor is hilarious.  I think this is one reason for fathers that parenthood is so fascinating and hilarious.  Until your kids are 100% potty trained, conversations about poop is as common as conversations about the weather.  "Today is going to be partially cloudy" is analogous to "Emma crapped three times today."

Lisa is getting a little annoyed with me and my poop humor because the kids are starting to pick up on it.  I think it's great because me and the kids can have belly laughs about poop for hours on end; this leaves Lisa out of the picture.  I'll just chalk Lisa's annoyance to petty jealousy.

What I find a little fascinating now is that the kids are beginning to personify their poops.  They'll tell stories about their poops as if they are actual people.  I suppose this could be a little disturbing to some people, but I think this is all about the kids developing their imagination.  Now if they start to pull their poops out of the toilet and add their Mr. Potatohead accessories to it, I'll draw the line there -- although how creative is that?  Bravo!

The other day, Emma was pooping, and Lisa was waiting for her to finish.  Lisa asked Emma if she was done.  Emma answered, "Well, the Mommy and Daddy poop came out, but there's still a baby poop waiting."

"Mommy and Daddy poop?" Lisa asked.

"Yah," said Emma.  "Mommy and Daddy poops are the BIIIIG ones."

I suppose that makes sense, no?  Mostly figuratively though.

"What about the baby poop?" continued Lisa.

"The baby poops are the little tiny ones that come out last.  My baby poop is crying, 'Let me out!  Let me out!'" explained Emma.  "The baby poop wants to see Mommy and Daddy poop."

After Lisa relayed this story to me, there was only one thought in my mind:  I've never been prouder of Emma.

Day 1366 - Picture Friday

Even the Little Mermaid gets a wedgie every once in awhile.

"Fine.  One fart and everyone clears the pool."

If Andrew's sunglasses don't help him look older, then his ticket to see Bad Teacher is $6 down the drain.

Emma is all ready for her first movie.  Juice box?  Check.  Snack bag?  Check.  Portable toilet?  Check.

Have a great weekend!

Day 1365 - Conversations with Andrew

When I returned from work today, Andrew was super excited to show me this new Cars 2 book that Lisa bought him.  It was a book/playset that came with a dozen miniature-sized characters from Cars 2.  But what intrigued me most about this playset was to see how long it would take for those 12 miniature-sized versions of cars became 12 miniature-sized never-to-be-found-again versions of cars.

As we have been slowly accumulating a new Cars 2 car every week or so, a car that Andrew wanted to add to his collection was Holley Shiftwell.  Before the movie, he didn't have much interest in her, but once he realized that she also had to ability to turn into a plane -- well he was all over that. 

"Daddy!  Daddy!  I show you something!" screamed Andrew.

"What do you have there?"  I asked.

"Mommy buy me dis today.  Cars 2!  Cars 2!"  hyperventilated Andrew.

"Wow!  Look at all of those cars you have there," I said as I picked up the book and looked at he UPC cod.

"Look!  Look!"  Andrew held up his little Holley Shiftwell car to my face.  "It's Holley Sh#twell!"

"Err...umm," I said.

"Holley Sh#twell!  Holley Sh#twell!  Holley Sh#twell!" sang Andrew as he flew his car through the air.

I guess at the very least, Andrew will be prepared to answer his pediatrician when asked how his constipation is doing.

Day 1363 - Fireworks

I'm pretty sure ever since the kids were born, we never took the kids to see fireworks on July 4th.  The first time they saw fireworks was at Disneyland and it was not exactly a fantastic experience for them.   Explosions above them, blaring sound speakers to the left, and a grumpy Daddy to the right does not add up the happiest experience on Main Street.

This year, I knew the kids were getting close to the age of enjoying fireworks, but figured we would wait another year or two before we did the whole grass lawn camp out thing.  But after we brushed the kids' teeth, Emma said, "I want to see fireworks."

"We are!"  I exclaimed.  "On NBC at 9:30pm Pacific Standard Time!"

"No!" stomped Emma.  "I want to see fireworks outside."

I tried to figure out if I had a long enough extension cord to drag the television outside, but Emma and Lisa made pouty faces.  And as for Andrew, he made a poopy face -- a little constipated again.  The softy I am, I relented and told everyone to get ready to jump into the car to see fireworks.

After doing a quick Google search, I found out that there was a free fireworks show in Woodland Hills -- a mere 12 miles away.  But I knew that every time we've taken this trip from the shopping mall, the kids would fall asleep.  My game plan was to drive slowly to Woodland Hills, the kids would fall asleep in the car, I'd return home, and watch Al Roker oooh and aaah at fireworks.

As I slowly drove to Woodland Hills, there was one thing that I did not take into account:  late night hyper goofiness.  Andrew and Emma were as goofy and excited as could be in their car seats.  Despite my casual cruising speed, we made it Woodland Hills with almost everyone awake -- old timer Lisa took a quick nap in the car.

Obviously I was not the only one who thought of this last minute trek because the off-ramp and streets were crowded with cars.  My next hope was to fool the kids into thinking the fireworks might have finished, but observant Andrew said, "No!  Look!  People dere and dere and dere!"

My plan to avoid fireworks was crumbling minute after minute.  My next hope was to just drive around a little bit so the kids could look at the fireworks from the car.  As soon as the fireworks began to go off, the kids started screaming, "I want to get out!  I want to get out!"  The last time I remember someone being so adamant about getting out was my senior prom date inside our limo.

I pulled into the Electronic Fry's parking lot and lugged the kids out to the street.  From a distance, we were able to see fireworks reflected in the windows of tall office buildings.  The kids were pretty excited to see the skies lit up without the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song blared into their ears.

After five or ten minutes, the kids were getting cold so we packed it up and started to drive home.  I told them that if they were still awake when we returned home, we could watch some fireworks on television.  Andrew fell asleep right away, but Emma tried really hard to stay awake.  You should've seen her downing those Jolt sodas.

Upon arriving home, Lisa carried Andrew straight to bed.  But as I pulled Emma out of the car, she woke up and whispered to me that she wanted to watch more fireworks.  So I turned on the television, and she and I cuddled together watching a little bit of the Macy's fireworks.

And as I decompressed with her at my side, I realized two things:  1)  How wonderful it can be to have a family and re-experience your own life through the eyes of your child, and 2) how absolutely kickass fireworks can look on a big screen HD television set.  Just...wow.

Day 1361 - At the Movies

After a week of practicing in front of our television, we decided the kids were ready to see their first movie.  The kids learned how to kick the seat in front of them, how to scream at the movie screen, and, most importantly, how to text and talk on their cell phones.  In other words, they learned how to become a typical movie-goer.

The kids were excited to see Cars 2.  I am a big fan of animation, so I always look forward to Pixar films.  Although Rotten Tomatoes had this movie at a 35% approval, I was hoping for the best.  But then I saw that Transformers 3 got 36%, and I became a little leery.

We found a 10am showing of the movie which was perfect because it was right between breakfast and lunch.  And I guess the fact that each ticket was only $6 helped too.  After we gave the kids their movie tickets, we told them they had to give the tickets to the movie attendant.  I should've kept a closer eye on Emma because she tried to give her ticket to a homeless man who said he would work for beer.

In case the kids were going to freak out, we sat in the back row near the exit.  Lisa looked through her purse for the snacks.  We packed little goodie bags and fruit juice boxes for the kids.  I grabbed my Diet Coke and chocolate chip cookie.  And Lisa pulled out her flask of whiskey and apple bong.

And for the next two hours, I was amazed at how well the kids handled themselves.  The darkness and sound of the movie theater did not bother them at all.  There were a couple of scenes that scared the kids, but they covered their ears and closed their eyes just like they were told to do.  And when a gentleman's cell phone went off, Andrew appropriately said, "Turn that off, asshole!" 

Cars 2 was a little long for the kids because they began to get restless about 20 minutes before the end.  But thankfully, there was enough action, popcorn, and bribes to keep them in their seats until the credits began to roll.

Cars 2 may very well been Pixar's weakest movie, but I wouldn't know.  I was having too much fun watching my feature attraction:  watching our kids enjoying their first movie.  It really was a blast watching Emma and Andrew soaking in every moment of the movie.  The experience was so riveting for them, we let them watch it one more time....while Lisa and I snuck next door to watch Bad Teacher. 

Day 1359 - Picture Friday

Who ate Papa Smurf?

Emma is sad because we told her to stop stuffing Andrew into his Mack truck trailer.

"Wheee!   Wheee!"

"Wheee!   Wheee!  No.  Seriously.  My wee-wee hurts like hell."

"Who's touching my ass?"

Have a great weekend!