get that out of your mouth

for the good of the nation

I have become quite interested in who will next rule us.
It has caused me to do some real soul searching about
the direction I would like to see our country headed in
and who could take us there.

I think our system is broken and it’s time for something revolutionary.

It’s time to instill a monarchy.

I’ve decided we would all be better off being ruled by Babar, King of the Elephants.

Would Babar be in the back pocket of Big Pharma?
Nope, the worst we’d have to look out for would be the Dole banana lobby.

Would Babar kowtow to Big Oil?
I don’t think so, he prefers to travel by helium balloon.

Would Babar kneel down to the NRA?
He's not too much of an assault weapon lover.

Now, you would think Babar leans toward the Republican side, given his
elephantine makeup, but then you remember he is a benevolent king.
Never a tyrant.

Yep, he’s the elephantman for the job.

With the help of his beautiful elephant wife Celeste,
he can restore our former standing in the world.

Babar in 08. And beyond.

dark pools i dare not swim in

Once in a while, my children talk in their sleep.
I find this borderline demonic.
Night has fallen. The house is still. I slumber.
Then, a child’s fragile voice cuts through the silence.
“Piñata.”
What did he just say?
He said, “piñata.”
Piñata?
What the hell does that mean?
I lay there confused.
Then I get scared.
Piñata?
That’s creepy.
Is he contemplating bludgeoning us?
Are his eyes rolled back in his head?
Is he levitating?
I get out of bed to check.
No, he is sleeping peacefully.
I crawl back into bed.
But there will be no sleep for me.
As visions of tormented piñatas sway back and forth in my mind.

this is living

In the never-ending quest to get our children out of the house on cold winter days,
we ended up at a humongous rec center with a tepid indoor water park this weekend.

Once I got over the fact I would be wading in urine, it was quite pleasant.
Because I don't care anymore.
Does wading in urine make you all happy?
Great, lets do it.
Sure, splash some on my face.
Kick it in my eyes,
Whoo-Hoo!
This is fun.
Yes, I think I just swallowed some.
No worries.
Because I don't care.

They did have a large water slide my three-year old was all over.
He would sit in front of me and away we would go,
hurtling down towards the urine infused pool below us.

He summed it up quite eloquently when he sad,
"Dad, first it makes me laugh... then it makes me scream."

Me too, son, me too.

prickasauruses

What the hell is going on with all the new dinosaur names?

Don’t modern paleontologists know the vast majority of their truly interested public
are three-year olds?

How about this dinosaur scientists?

How about you put your toothbrushes and rock hammers down
and start naming your new finds using words we all know?

Here’s a few I thought up in 4 seconds.
You’re welcome to any of them.
Bigasaurus, toothasaurus, monstersaurus, scarysaurus.

It’s easy, just look at the fossils
and then put saurus after a descriptive yet commonly used word.

That way when my kids ask me what dinosaur we are looking at,
I can tell them without having to sound it out like Forrest Gump on a morphine drip.

uneasy slumber

This morning, my oldest boy woke up with the indent of a
Transformer pressed deeply into his cheek.
I could almost read "made in China" on his pink, translucent skin.

How both of my children can sleep with 5 to 10 plastic toys in their beds baffles me.

These are children who will screech and writhe whenever, lets say, a wash cloth touches them.

But sleeping directly on a plastic robot is no problem at all.

The inconsistencies of raising two boys are beginning to mount up.

They play by their own set of arcane rules.

And I am merely a chronicler.

darth dad

I, have become a master at fending off two young Jedi knights, with a plastic light saber.
They attack from all angles, I parry effortlessly and emerge unscathed.

The dark side of the force runs deep in me. My powers are great.

The young Jedi mount another attack, I move with grace and focus
sending them scurrying back with two well-placed saber slaps on the butt.

I try to tempt them over to the dark side.
But they resist and heap ridicule my way, all the while staying out of light saber range.

A not so long time ago, in a galaxy that happens to be our own,
there were three dorks fighting in the living room with light sabers.

you'll put your eye out, seriously

There is a special place in hell for the inventor of the Rocket Fishing Rod.

My oldest was given one of these missile launchers for his
birthday, after repeated viewings of the commercial
reduced him to a begging, sobbing mess.

First off, the only fish you would ever catch with one of these crapsticks
are the fish with incredibly low IQs and severe learning disabilities.

Then there is the fact we live in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and not on a lake.

Which leads to the inevitable conclusion of this story.

The part where he tells his landlocked younger brother
to look down the barrel of the Rocket Fishing Rod
and then fires it point blank into his eye.

Why?
Why does it always have to be the eye?

Screams. Crying. Anger. Terror.
And one black eye and a thousand tears later,
the Rocket Fishing Rod finds it's final resting place.

Broken in half. In the garbage.

Thanks Rocket Fishing Rod guys.
Thanks for the hours of fun the whole family can enjoy.

the littleness and bigness

We have this children’s book. It’s called “Little, Big.”
On each spread there is a little thing and a big thing.

Reading this book with my three-year old is fun.

After going over the rules with him, “little big, little big, little big, got it?”

We turn the page.

My wife: “Puddles are…”
Him: “Uhm, wet?"
Wife: “Yes but they are also…. little.”
Him “Yeah! Little!”
Wife: “Oceans are…”
Him: “Blue?”
Wife: “Yes but they are also big.”
Him: “Big!”

The page turns.

Wife: “Little big, little big, little big, remember?”
Him: “Yup.”
Wife: “Tricycles are…”
Him: “For babies!”
Wife mildly exasperated: "They are little!”
Him: “Oh yeah, little.”
Wife: “Dump trucks are…”
Him: “Cool!”
Wife laughing: “Yup. They are cool.”

scorn from the passenger seat

We went to a friend’s home this weekend.
We stayed too long and by the time we got the kids in the car, it was late.
As we drove home in the dark, I told the lads stories of my youth.

Finally my youngest boy sleepily said, “Dad, I’m tired.”
I said, “I know babe, we’ll be home soon.”
He then replied, “No Dad... I’m tired of your story.”

The whole car laughed at me.
And I contemplated driving them all off a cliff and ending this farce.

yuck vs yum

My boys have noses that rival bloodhounds.
They can smell a single m&m from three rooms away.

Last night, I was eating a piece of black licorice when
they both caught the scent and said, “what's in your mouth?”

My oldest sniffed the air again and sneered,
“it’s black licorice! The baddest candy on the earth!”

My youngest wrinkled his nose then chimed in,
“ Yuck! But it’s yum for you Dad, right?
It’s yuck for us but it’s yum for you.”

My oldest had the final word;
“black licorice is the most disgusting candy ever.
And I don’t want to smell it because it smells disgusting too.
Move off the couch Dad, and eat your disgusting candy somewhere else.”

He hates the idea a candy exists he doesn't like.
All he holds dear has betrayed him.