Day 1141 - Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving!

Since we're up in Northern California, the blog entries will be sparse due to limited internet access and an overdose on the amino acid tryptophan.

Day 1139 - Conversations with Emma

There are times when you wonder if the kids are beginning to think too highly of themselves. You want your child to have a healthy ego, but you certainly do not want them thinking they're any better than you. After all, who could be better than us?

At our new townhouse, the kitchen is pretty small so if there are more than a few people in it, you're either going to get bumped or sauteed. A few days ago, Lisa was in the kitchen preparing dinner and didn't see Emma next to her. Lisa bumped Emma over.

"Emma! I didn't see you there. I'm sorry," Lisa apologized.

Emma got up off the floor and said, "Mommy, you need to be careful because I am special."

Lisa did a slight double-take and asked, "Special? Why are you special, Emma?"

Emma made an expression of disbelief that belies her toddler age and said, "Because I am EXCITING!"

Day 1137 - Conversations with Andrew

After dinner, the kids expect dessert. Dessert to them is anything sweeter than their dinner, so we try to keep it as healthy as possible. Some examples of their dessert is sliced apples, toddler crackers, or 1/2 a bag of cane sugar.

One dessert that the kids really enjoy is yogurt. The other night, I asked the kids whether or not they wanted broccoli or yogurt for dessert. After being assaulted with toddler obscenities such as Mothergooser, I relented and got a carton of yogurt out of the fridge.

But Andrew was very adamant that he was not going to get any broccoli. "No broccoli! Yogurt! I want yogurt!" he demanded. Does he not yet understand that the more angry you get at Daddy, the more sarcastic and a-holey Daddy is going to get?

So as a joke, I emptied out the yogurt container and put a piece of broccoli into it. I walked up to Andrew and asked if he wanted to spoon out the rest of the yogurt.

"I want yogurt! I want yogurt!" he screamed with delight.

I took a spoon and started to scrape the inside of the yogurt cup. Andrew's eyes widened as he anticipated a scoop of delicious, creamy strawberry yogurt. Well, imagine his horror when all that came out of the yogurt cup was a gigantic broccoli crown.

"No no no! No broccoli!" he screamed with anger.

"Are you sure you don't want this?" I teased Andrew as I hovered the spoon of broccoli around his face.

"I no want it! I want yogurt! No broccoli! AHHHHHH!!!!"

With Andrew's patented scream, I decided I should stop the teasing and give the kids their bowl of yogurt. After I placed Andrew's bowl of yogurt in front of him, he just looked at me with his furrowed brow and grumbled, "Why you so crazy for, Daddy?"

Day 1135 - Picture Friday

"Emma! Leave me alone! I wiped! I wiped!"

Ironic that Emma is benched because she glued her butt to the bench.

What happens when children discover ice cream.

Fun with chloroform!

Have a great weekend!

Day 1134 - Define Stupid

stu·pid

/ˈstupɪd, ˈstyu‐/ Show Spelled [stoo-pid, styoo‐] adjective, -er, -est, noun

–adjective

1. lacking ordinary quickness and keenness of mind; dull.

2. characterized by or proceeding from mental dullness; foolish; senseless: a stupid question.

3. Scott Ichikawa

This morning, I made a bad situation worse.

It was a normal morning of dreaded anticipation of the kids waking up. As soon as I hear the kids start to whine, I down the remainder of my coffee, put down the paper, and flush the toilet (Yah, so...I like to spend my mornings on the crapper.).

As I began to change Andrew's clothes, Andrew noticed a mole on my arm. Andrew likes to call it a "dot" which is much more preferred over what he used to call it: melanoma. So I pointed to a little mole that was on Andrew's leg.

Emma wanted to join in on the fun, so she started to look for moles on Andrew's body. It was like a dermatologist convention. When Emma was just about to give up hope, she announced with excitement, "Look! I found some!" Emma pointed at Andrew's nipples.

I told Emma that those were not dots. I guess Emma knew that because she replied back, "I know. Those are Andrew's boobies!"

Sigh. The word boobies again. Pretty soon Emma and Andrew were saying "boobies" more times than I've seen boobies in my life; they said it 3 times.

I tried to stop the gigglefest by explaining to Emma that those were not Andrew's boobies because boys do not have boobies. My explanation went further when I began to say, "Those are actually called nip..." And then I stopped because I realized the word "nipples" isn't any better than "boobies".

But I should've finished my sentence because Emma said, "Those are nips?"

GOOD GOING, SCOTT! I've just created a racist. Pretty soon, she'll be doing hate crimes against herself. "One nip. Two nip," Emma counted.

REALLY GOOD GOING, SCOTT! Might as well have Emma say hello to Manzanar now!

Without making a bigger deal than it already was in my mind, I told Emma that those things on Andrew's chest are not called nips. So when she asked me what they were called, I said the only thing I could say.

"They're called boobies."

Day 1133 - Cartoon Wednesday

Day 1132 - Naughty or Naughty?

As I was driving the kids around town looking for the nearest strip club...err...strip mall, Emma noticed Christmas decorations on some buildings and asked what they were. Since the whole notion of Santa Claus seems to be so fleeting with kids, I decided to give Emma and Andrew an introductory rundown about Saint Nick.

I began by telling them there was a person named Santa Claus who lives at the North Pole. And once a year, he travels all around the world to deliver toys to all the good boys and girls. I emphasized to the kids for my own parental benefit that Santa Claus knows which boys and girls have been good and bad, and he only delivers toys to the good ones.

At this point, Andrew interrupted and said, "Emma no good."

Stunned, I said, "What?"

Andrew explained, "Emma no listen. She no listen to Mommy in bath." He was kinda right. The night before, Emma got in trouble with Lisa during bath time because she kept on pouring water out of the tub.

I tried to change the topic, but Andrew insisted on telling me why Emma was bad.

"Emma pour water. Keep on pour water and Mommy get MAD! Emma no listen. Emma bad," Andrew continued to explain possibly hoping ratting his sister would score him extra loot from Santa.

My attempt to create excitement about the holidays was deflating faster than my masculinity in a locker room. I couldn't tell if Emma felt bad because I was driving, but she was completely silent. I tried to make one last attempt to salvage this sled wreck.

"Emma, you're a good girl. I'm sure Santa will bring you plenty of toys for Christmas. And Andrew, you don't really think Emma is a bad girl, right?"

Without missing a beat, Andrew simply said, "Nope. Bad, bad, bad."