_C_ managed to find a Wii at msrp locally and turned it into a Christmas gift, allegedly for the kids. We have all been playing all evening and I am all sore.
I feel a little bit sorry for all you guys who have to wait until Christmas morning to open the gifts, 🙂
When your four-year old asks you to shave and your six-year old asks
you to dress up, there is some kind of hidden message.
I was flying back from The Bahamas yesterday and airport security[*]
decided to check out my shoes three times. I know they
might be a bit smelly and big enough to hide a Hummer, but why
not just check them thoroughly once?
But I was good. I even resisted the temptation of handing over
my three-year old for them to hold while I took off my shoes.
Someone would have gotten kicked, slapped, clawed, and/or worse.
He is cute, but he takes no prisoners.
[*] The use of the term “security” to describe people in airports is not to
be taken as an indication that their presence or function improves
I was washing _L_‘s hands in the bathroom when we had this exchange:
_L_: I’m cold, daddy.
Me: Where are you cold, _L_?
_L_: I’m cold here in the bathroom, daddy!
A 100% correct answer, yet totally useless. It could be straight
out of an IBM manual.
here is your chance to recycle a few select quotes from The Incredibles.
I do not recall having a graduation ceremony after my own time in
We sometimes go to a buffet place on weekends and _A_ has
managed to talk herself into being allowed to have ice cream for
Enter _L_. He was only about one year old at the time, but he very
quickly figured out that the white soft stuff was desireable and
made it clear that the building would come down if he did not get
some. Pronto. That was a bit of a problem since ice cream does
not figure prominently in the recommended diet for a one-year old.
Solution: soft tofu, with sprinkles.
Therefore, according to _L_, ice cream is something that is served warm and
with sprinkles. He has figured out the difference in the meantime,
but he still seems to prefer the tofu. Fine with me.
I must be doing something wrong. Getting kids to eat right is supposed
to be a major fight.
Yet _L_ drinks his milk, eats his carrots, cannot get enough broccoli, loves porridge,
and if we are getting pizza then he wants it with spinach.
_A_ is not much worse. While she does complain, that generally stops
after we tell her “you get what you get and you don’t get upset”.
(That is a nice trick from the daycare.)
If I told you that I ate like that myself, my nose would grow faster
than a speeding bullet.