My preschooler just brought me all the vowels from the refrigeration! And ONLY the vowels. I was stunned and amazed until I realized all the vowels are red. That boy sure loves to group things. I see a future scientist.
Category: Evan
From the mouths of babes
One of neighbors is named Betty. The children address her as Mrs. Betty. Recently Evan started calling her Mrs. Betsy. I would correct him placing emphasis on the second T.
Evan, 4 years old: "Mrs. Bet see."
Me: "Say Bet-T"
This Betsy-Betty back and forth has gone on for weeks. So Evan has taken to really adding pause and emphasis to the second part of her name "Mrs. Bet TEA." Today I understand why.
Evan: "Noah won’t take me to Mrs. Bet Tea’s house."
Noah, 13 years old: "Evan, it’s Bet SEE."
Me: "No Noah. It’s Betty. Bet TEA."
Noah: "Oh."
The boys leave to visit with our neighbor and I chuckle having one more mystery in my life solved. They promptly return.
Evan: "Noah still won’t take me to Mrs. Bet TEA’s house."
Noah: "Mrs. Bet SEE isn’t home."
From the mouths of babes
I hugged the wife then Evan, the 4 year old, ran to us with arms stretched wide and exclaimed, "group hug!" Where’s he get this stuff?
What kind of babysitting is this?
Cathy is touring the high schools, the older boys are out of the state, the 7 year old socialite is at a friend’s house, and I’m downstairs trying to work which leaves the teenage girl babysitting the 4 year old boy. So why is the bathtub running? I dread going upstairs to see what mess they are recovering from but I must know!
From the mouths of babes
Me: "Evan, watch me pull my finger off."
Evan, 4 years old: "Do it again and pass it to me. You got to break it off and put it in my hand."
Me: "Wise acre."
From the mouths of babes
Looking down at the trampoline I see one child drawn and quartered by four other children. They waddle to the edge of the trampoline and start rocking the captive child back and forth as if to throw her from the trampoline to the ground. Then they release sending the captive nearly to the other side of the trampoline with a flop.
Me, opening the window and softly calling down into the valley: "Hey Noah! Do me a favor and make sure we don’t go to the hospital. I don’t have time for that today."
Earlier it was:
Me: "Evan. We have guests. They don’t want to see your penis."
You know.. there should be a book they give to new parents titled, "these are the ridiculous things you will say" with a list of the absurdities you will utter. I’ve said them all!
From the mouths of babes
Evan, 4 years old: "Dad, wassit?"
Me: "It’s called a Slinky."
Evan: "WHOA! Cool!"
frustrationfrustraTIONfruSTRAIONFRUSRATION!
I’ve spent the day trying to accomplish something that should have taken 40 minutes and is preventing me from doing the things I really want to be doing today. Something that I’m not even getting paid for. I feel that I’ve been constantly interrupted. At one point I declared, "I’m taking the next 40 minutes and finishing this" during which time I was interrupted 3 times. So finally a crisis hit. Minor. The 7 year old, the 4 year old, and the dog went missing in the creek. Normally this would not be a big deal but we’ve had substantial rain these past couple of days. Also, I believe there is a sinkhole in the creek that the children do not know about. It’s mostly covered with debris right now. It’s not really on my property and I’ve been wanting to clear the debris away to see if it is the entrance to the rumored cave that is supposedly nearby. Right now, I simply know that water flows into the ground through the debris at that point and I don’t want the children near it. So I channeled Coach Boomer (which I only now realized is one of my heroes, Bruce Campbell!) for some echo location and proceeded to be anything except that great TV dad that I so aspire to be. Several tears later, everyone is safe but mad at me. And I feel like crud.
You can’t watch them all the time
I caught the seven year old giving the four year old a wedgie. This is one of those moments I feel for single parents because I could not respond rationally and had to tag myself out calling in the second parent. With Cathy’s help we try to convey that this breaks the "no touching between belly button and knees" rule. The question of concern is not why would you do this? but who did this to you? because obviously she learned it from someone. In my head I jump to the worst case scenarios and am horrified. I run down her list of friends and think of the opportunities where inappropriate play could be happening. We probe without making accusations. Amy relents and claims she didn’t learn it from anyone. Then why would she do it? This morning while watching the cartoon network with Amy and Evan, I have an epiphany; She learned it from television.
From the mouths of babes
Evan was cuddling lovingly with Cathy. His head was resting upon her chest as she held him. As I walked by, I stroked his arm as I admired him and continued to toward my office. As I hit the stairs, I hear an excited, curious voice exclaim in question to his mother, "Did you have 3 hands!?"
From the mouths of babes
While I was playing cards (concentration) with Evan:
Evan, 4 years old: "Pause the game. I’ll be right back."
I’m a condom commercial redux
We took the feral child to Target. I know. We have a reputation at Target. Management has explained that we aren’t allowed to leave our children overnight and we’ve caused other stinks. Mostly we are loud.
The cousins are in town so we joined them and the grandparents for dinner at Chuck E Cheese. Tokens were mashed into money munching machines maniacally. The seven children ranging from just walking to just driving ran, danced, climbed, made funny faces, chased, giggled, and had a great time. We left Chuck E Cheese with much daylight remaining and decided to swing over to the West Hills Park. Naturally, there was juggling! The children played hard and further exhausted themselves.
On the way home, we reluctantly decided to stop by Target. With exhausted children, this could be disastrous. 20 feet into the door, Evan tries to wear some slippers he found on an endcap and when denied, broke down into screams and tears. I heft him up into my arms and carry him outside. I offer to take him to the car but he pulls it together slightly and we reenter the store. Evan is completely overdone so I decide to carry him on my hip. He doesn’t like this.
We each have our assignments. Noah shops for Cliff bars for his week of Boy Scout camp. Sarah searches for a video game to buy with the last of her birthday money. Cathy picks up shampoo. And Evan and I go for condoms.
Only one thing is more fun than taking a screaming child down the condom aisle. That one thing would be taking a screaming child down the condom aisle, saying "excuse me" as you reach over the other customer to grab a large bottle of Astroglide (click for a free sample) (see also Facebook and Twitter), grabbing a large box of Durex condoms as the child changes from screams to manic laughter and headbutts you, "Ow Dad! That hurt my head!" then watching the other customer hastily grab the nearest pregnancy test and run to get out of the aisle. Oh, of course, seeing the lady return muttering, "I didn’t know you could buy the wrong one." added to my amusement. I tried hard to say anything to her but couldn’t with a straight face. Evan and I make a good condom ad.
Evan has had it. Sitting on my shoulders often helps so up he goes. This gives him access to the top shelves where he grabs a box of band aids from here and leaves it over there. Of course, I cannot see what he’s doing. I mostly steer for the center of the aisles to keep his hands away from products. Sarah has disappeared with the shopping cart so here I am in the main aisle of Target with a screaming, squirming child on my shoulders, left hand holding the gallon sized container of Astroglide, and right hand holding a year’s supply of Durex condoms. Remember, I only had one penny donated toward a vasectomy and the DIY operation was canceled. I reach the checkouts. Evan is mad! We walked past his favorite toy and I would not let him down to play with it. Evan says, "I’m going to sit in your hair." He’s already sitting on my shoulders. Is sitting on my head an attempt to get down? He says it again, "I’m going to sit in your hair!" My eyes bug out. Spit! I turn to Cathy, "He’s going to spit in my hair!" Cathy, "How do you know that?" I feel the feral child bend at has waist. Sarah clasps her hand over her mouth, her eyes water and face goes red with laughter. Cathy laughs aloud. And the lady with the pregnancy test at checkout 6 hastily signs her receipt and runs from the store!
That’s my boy!
Child Protective Services – Don’t read this
Here’s some additional information about the rolla bolla from my comment on Cathy’s flickr set:
I now get to tell a story which may or may not add a little bit of a technical appreciation for what’s happening in this picture. My rolla bolla freaks other jugglers out. Mine is completely homemade. It uses a 4 inch diameter thick pvc pipe. The board itself happens to be exactly the same length as a shelf in a homemade bookcase I built for my dorm room in college because it is one the shelves which happen to be precisely 19 inches in length. Most jugglers are more accustomed to using rolla bollas closer to 3 feet long. For instance, Dube’s is 29 inches (btw, there’s your spec).
Juggling is all about physics. This is center of gravity trick. The longer the board, the greater the center of gravity. In essence, if you drew a line from the ground up to the top of your head (or the head fo the person on your shoulders) that divided your torso symmetrically and simply made sure that line never passed over your foot, you would never fall down. Since my board is so short, there is very little room for error. One way to cheat the physics is to use a larger diameter piece of pvc but frankly the 5 inch pvc tends to flatten a little taking away from the visual effect (in addition to simply being disproportionate to the other equipment and plain ugly).
Regarding the pvc when making a homemade rolla bolla. I learned the hardway that the pvc pipe should be the same width as the board (or slightly larger). If it is smaller you create a third degree of freedom and you might as well be doing this trick on top of a ball.
Don’t use those stupid stoppers on the bottom of your board! If you look at the Dube rolla bolla you will see that the underside of the board has stops at each end. This prevents the board from flying at high velocity to your left or right severely hurting people. Instead the board stops and you go flying at high velocity to the left or right breaking yourself and the people standing beside you. When we were first learning this trick. My brother fell off the board and sent it flying into a filing cabinet. 3 days later we were still trying to open the drawer. Without the stoppers you can safely take the board to the very edge without falling. I mean the very edge being exactly at the halfway point on the pvc pipe. Instead of the stoppers, control your board.
You can break things with a rolla bolla! These things may include: glass, bones, teeth, spines, and metal cabinets. When learning to stand on a rolla bolla do these things:
- Get a partner! Have the partner stand behind you with their arms underneath your armpits but not touching you. When you fall, they will spot you and keep you from breaking yourself
- Make sure your feet are at the edges of the board.
- Wear shoes!
- Practice daily in short spurts
- Start with the board touching the ground on one side and about one third of the board on the pipe. Starting by jumping up to a horizontally balanced board is cool and fun but an advanced trick that will land a beginner on their hind side.
The rolla bolla will increase your balance, develop your abs and back, and tighten your buttocks.
Warnings!
- Don’t let people stand to your left or right. I cannot emphasize this enough.
- If you fall…er…when you fall, think of yourself as being on a skate board or inline skate. Protect your wrists! Better to belly flop on concrete than to impact your wrist, elbows and knees
I will happily get together with anyone that wants help learning the rolla bolla.
From the mouths of babes
Evan, 4 years old: "Dad, I gotta go!"
In case you are unaware of why you teach your children to walk, it’s so they can run away. Embrace them at every opportunity. There will come a day you have to let them go.
