v2, d334: Magic Spit-Up

I have to admit that I found it difficult to focus all afternoon knowing that the Aeros were playing a game seven in Milwaukee tonight.  Win, and we move on to the Western Conference Final for the second time in three years.  Lose, and it's all over. And I realized as morning turned to noon: I didn't want it to be over!  I actually lost some of my appetite around dinner time because I was so wrapped up worrying about this game. 

Now, longtime readers of this blog will know that I am not above the occasional ridiculous sports superstition.  The night of Game Five, I wore my Aeros vs. Admirals 2009 Division Finals T-shirt for luck, and the Aeros pulled out an improbable comeback for an OT win.  Game Six, no shirt, no W.  So when I was looking for something to change into after work and my 2009 shirt was clean, it was really no contest.  I pulled on the shirt and turned on the radio broadcast for the game.

About this time, Kim was finishing up dinner, so it was left to me to keep the baby entertained.  I had him on my left shoulder, resting his head against my chest, when suddenly the baby spewed all over the lucky shirt.  (This is less disgusting than you might think; you just sorta get used to it as a parent)  I calmly pulled him back to survey the damage and discovered that my boy had managed to aim the entirety of his substantial upheaval on the Milwaukee Admirals side of my shirt. 

I was a proud papa. 

Result?  One heck of a thrilling game seven that ends with a 4-2 Aeros win.  We play on, with home ice throughout the rest of the playoffs.  Unfortunately, I don't own anything with the Bulldogs', Checkers', or Senators' logos, so we won't be able to recapture this particular magic.  But if it's needed, I'm sure I'll figure something out :-)

v2, d299: More Robbie says...

Early yesterday morning, while Isaac was fussing in his Pack'N'Play.  There was a lawnmower and an edger going full force outside.
"It's okay, Isaac.  Don't cry, baby!  Don't cry.  It's just a lawnmower, don't be scared. It's just a lawnmower. Don't cry, I'm right here. I'm here to protect you. Do you need a hug, baby?  Do you need lots of hugs?"

While sitting on the couch watching Bob the Builder...
W: Hey Robbie, why is the concrete always pink on this show?
R: IT JUST IS!
W: Well all right then...

 Describing his day care's Mardi Gras parade to Kim...
"I walked around wearing lots of silly stuff!  We put on crowns and masks and necklaces and it was so, so silly!"

While driving home from school today...
W: (yawning) I'm very tired.
R: Why, Daddy?
W: Because I don't sleep enough.
R: Why?
W: Well, because I go to work, and then after that I go home and take care of Robbie and Isaac and Mommy, and then after you all go to bed sometimes I have to work around the house, cleaning something, or I have to go to the store and get us something--like today, I have to get gas in the car after you go to bed--and then after that I have to work on my other other work.  I write stories and hopefully somebody will buy them from me someday.
R: Someday, I will buy them from you!
W: You don't have to buy stories from me.  You get all free stories.
R: Why?
***
R: There's a gas station! 
W: That's right.
R: Maybe you can get gas in the car from there tonight!
W: Oh, that's right. Maybe I can.  But I will probably go to a different one.
R: Why?
W: I will probably go to one that is closer, or one where the gas is less money.
R: Gas costs money?
W: Yup.  Gasoline costs money.  That's why I need people to buy my stories. So we have money to buy gas.
R: Oh. (pause) Keep working on that then. 

v2, d287: "No one here but us Pens fans..."

I don't think there are any of you who don't already know this, but I am a Pittsburgh Penguins fan.  (Also: Colorado Avalanche, Tampa Bay Lightning, Houston Aeros, and Wichita Thunder, but none of those are relevant now)  Robbie knows it and has cheered on the Pens with me on many occasions.  (During the Cup run of 2009, for example, he would hear me shout "YEAH!!!" from the back room and then sprint into the living room shouting "GO PENGUINS!"  There was also the famous "Thank you God Daddy, thank you God Mr. Travis, thank you God Go Penguins" prayer, after which the Pens won 4 of the last 5 games against Detroit to win the Cup)  A couple weeks ago, however, the Pens were playing their arch-rival, the evil Washington Capitals.  And after I said, "Go Penguins" once, Robbie countered with "Go Capitals!" and a big  mischievous grin on his face. And he wanted reaction, so I gave him one.  "What?"  I asked.  "Why would you say Go Capitals?  We like the Penguins!"  "I like the Capitals!" he laughed, and he spent the rest of the afternoon randomly spouting "Go Capitals!"

Playful antagonism just to get a response?  Surely not from my child...

Anyway, last night the Pens and Caps were on TV again. When I turned the game on, Robbie asked what I was watching.  I told him I was watching the Penguins.  He asked if the Capitals were playing. (He's asked this every game since he first became a Caps fan)  I told him they were, and his face lit up.  "GO CAPITALS!" he shouted.  "Now you say, 'Oh, man! Why do you say go Capitals?'"  He had this all figured out.  So, I played my part.  "Oh, man," I said, "Why do you say, 'Go, Capitals!'"  And he just cackled and said "GO CAPITALS!" again.

Now, I realize Robbie has no real allegiance when it comes to sports teams at this point, though he likes any team that starts with Houston and his favorite hockey player is the Aeros' Robbie Earl, so I wasn't really upset. I knew his Go Caps' were only because he thought it was a fun game.  Still, you've got to curb rebellion early, before you get to the "Stone the Rebellious Child" stage from the Torah.  So, as I stabbed a bite of pork chop with my fork, I said nonchalantly, "You know, Robbie, I think that only Penguins fans are going to get to have dessert in this house."

From the bedroom, I hear Kim's amused voice: "That's not nice, Daddy!"

I shrugged and called back.  "Hey, that's just the way it works.  I don't make the rules."

Her voice again: "Yes, you do!"

And then, Robbie calling back to her: "No he doesn't Mommy!  It's just the way it is!"  A brief moment passes, and then he exclaims, "GO PENGUINS!"

Just like that, we're all one big happy family once again ;-)


**************

Side note: Former Aero (briefly) Jared Spurgeon got his first NHL goal tonight.  While it's not as memorable as Stoner's, it's still worth a stick tap.  Great story, this kid.

v2, d271: More Robbie

Have I mentioned that Robbie and I play sock puppets before bed every night?  Well, Robbie and I play suck puppets before bed every night.  What follows is an abbreviated version of a conversation between our sock puppets two nights ago.

***********

R: Let's go to the grocery store!
W: Okay.
R: I got a pickle!
W: Nomnomnomnom!
R: (instantly pouty)...I wanted to eat that pickle.
W: I already ate it.
R: ....but I wanted it.
W: It's all gone, I ate it.
R: But I wanted it.
W: You'll have to eat another one, I ate that one.
R: But I wanted that one.
W: I didn't know you wanted that one, so I ate it.
R: But I want it.
W: I'm sorry, but you can't have it now.  It's all gone.  Do you want to get another pickle?
R: I don't want another one (pointing directly into my sock puppet's mouth) I want that one.
W: I'm very sorry.  If I had known you wanted that one I wouldn't have eaten it.  But I did, and it's all gone.  Can I buy you a new pickle.
R: No...
W: Do you want a better pickle?  Let's get you an even better one.
R: I don't want a better one.  (pointing in my sock puppet's mouth again) I want that one.
W: But they have lots of better pickles.
R: No...
W: (not as a sock puppet briefly) Robbie, it's just a pretend pickle.  It's not a real pickle.  It's okay.
R: But I wanted (pointing again) that pickle.  I don't want another one.
W: (a sock puppet again) I'm very sorry you can't have that one.  Can I buy you two better pickles?
R: No I want that one.
W: But I ate it!  It's all gone!  I can't get it back.
R: But I want it...
W: Okay, fine.  (Goes to the pre-established counter where we get "things" from, returns) Here.
R: I don't want that one.
W:Yes you do.  It's the one that you want.
R: (somewhat doubtfully, somewhat hopefully) Is it (points) that one?
W: Yes.
R: It's that one! Omnomnomnomnom!  Mmmm, yummy! (suddenly happy again) Yaaaay!  Good pickle! 
W: Okay, good.
R: I want another one.
W: What???
R: Let's get another pickle!
W: You just said you didn't want the other pickles!
R: Yes I do want another pickle!
W: I said I'd buy you another pickle, and you said you didn't want the other pickles!
R: I did want them!
W: You said they were yucky!
R: (laughing) No, you buy them for me!
W: I will not buy you a pickle!  You said you didn't want one!
R: Yes, but one for me!
W: Ahhhh!  I'm going back to the helicopter!

****************

Yeah.  We play sock puppets every night before bed. 

v2, d160: Sight-Gag

We seem to have established a beditme routine that works pretty well.  We have dinner, put away toys, take a bath (most nights), have family "cuddle time" in our bed, brush Robbie's teeth, get a drink of water, tell a story (Hairy Bear and Scary Bear stories are currently the favorite), lay on the floor together for a few minutes, turn on the theme from Forrest Gump, close the door most of the way, and leave Robbie to fall asleep.

It's so much better than lying next to him for over an hour until he finally went to sleep.

Lately, routines-within-routines have sprung up.  For example, during cuddle time, Robbie usually wants to talk to the baby (he seems to believe the baby will be able to hear him better if he speaks directly into Kim's belly button) and he usually wants to spend time with all three of us laughing simultaneously.  He will generally cue us in that it's time for this exercise by asking, "Will you laugh with me?" or "I want us all to laugh together."  And then we'll laugh, and he'll stop and ask what we're laughing about.

And so it goes.

Tonight, Robbie asked if we could all laugh together.  Kim asked if he would tell us a funny joke.  He paused for a moment and then started laughing.  "I told my funny joke!" he exclaimed.  "I didn't hear it," I replied.  "Robbie, a funny joke has to have words," Kim explained.  (Note: his usual funny joke is: "GEIGER!  GEIGER GEIGER!")  Robbie laughed and shook his head so wildly he almost knocked himself over.  "No a joke does not have to have words!" he said.  "Are you going to do a sight-gag?" I asked him.  He stopped laughing and sat still.  "Yes!" he said.  Then he paused for a moment, and you could tell his mind was working.  At last, the threw both arms up in the air, tossed his head back, and shouted "SIGHT GAG!!" 

v2, d139: Science vs. Religion

Today's experiment has been postponed because I needed to pass along this "Kids are cute!" story from this afternoon. 

As we were driving home from church today, I asked Robbie what his Sunday school story was. 

"It was about King Kudnezzer's biiiiig statue," he said.  And what about the statue, I asked.  "They did not bow down to it.  And King Kudnezzer got very mad."  Oh my!  "And they did not say a prayer to it.  And the King got more mad."  So what did he do?  "He threw them in the fire!"  Oh, dear!  And what happened to them?  "They got burned!" 

Somewhere in either the telling or the receiving, something in the story was lost...

He did say later that there was an angel in the fire with them, and that the King got them out, and their clothes and their hair were not burned.  And that God took care of them.  So he did get it.  I think he just likes the idea of things burning. Which is kinda scary in its own right. 

Then again, I guess Holly turned out all right.

v2, d128: They're not just friends....they're teammates!

This blog does not endorse child violence.

That said, there is an awful lot of awesome in this video:



"Aw, MooooOOOOOM!"

(Hat tip to Puck Daddy for, like, the 900th time)


Meanwhile, I know some of my readers are at least mildly into Powerglove, so I'm just gonna drop the link here. Two thoughts: when they say "Batman," do they mean "Batman: TAS" or "Nanananananananana, BATMAN!" Because if it's TAS, dude, that's freaking awesome. Second thought: Heffalumps and Woozles + death metal = amazing, epic nightmares. Just sayin'.

v2, d114: Not An Airplane

The other day, I was playing with my son in his small, round, turtle-shaped sandbox. The routine usually goes a-something like this: I take the lid off the sandbox, and he plops down in with all of his diggers and scoops and plays for awhile, sometimes taking loads of dirt all over the patio in one of his wagons, sometimes burying this digger or that one, and during this portion of playtime I'm reclining in a lawn chair I bought for Kim a few years ago, reading my latest library book. After a while, he always asks if I want to dig with him, so I put down my book and cram myself down into this tiny sandbox with Robbie and every one of his diggers.

Now, last time we were digging together, Robbie handed me his front-end loader (he had a plastic shovel in his hand) and pointed to a spot in the sandbox. "Here Daddy," he said, "you dump it out riiiight here." So I filled the bucket on the loader full of sand and dropped it on the very spot. Robbie's face became somewhat pained. "Noooo!" he said. "What?" I asked him. "I did exactly what you said. I put the dirt right where you wanted me to put it."

"But," he said, looking me straight in the eye. There was a very adult-looking concern creeping across his face, "but...but that" he pointed now to the loader in my hands, "that is not an airplane."

Ah. Of course. After I scooped up the dirt into the loader's bucket, I picked the machine up, carried it through the empty space above the sandbox, and then deposited it in the correct spot with the loader's wheels never once touching the ground. In my folly, I didn't stop to consider that a real front-end loader cannot fly. I should have made my machine drive on the ground like a real loader. I immediately apologized and then did it the RIGHT way.

His sandbox, his rules. And really, he did have a remarkably valid point.

When this whole "big brother" thing happens sometime in February or March, he will most definitely be ready to go.

v2, d98: Igoo

Igoo.

It is not a misspelling of "igloo". Neither is it a reference to the classic Herculoid. It's pronounced "EYE-goo", and last night Robbie kept saying it over and over, then laughing hysterically. (Last night was a 'laughing hysterically' sort of night) I asked him what in the world igoo meant. He balled up a fist and then jammed it into the meaty part of my arm and said, "It means you plug yourself in," then he removed the "plug" and said, "then you take yourself out, and you go upstairs!"

I asked again to make sure I'd heard that correctly. Once again, he balled up a fist and jammed it in my arm. "It means you plug yourself in, then you take yourself out and you go upstairs!" Then, more hysterical laughter.

So we continued to play, Robbie and I and the little crocheted turtle Kim made for him a couple years ago, when out of the blue Robbie started laughing out loud and buried his head in my chest. "I have no idea what igoo means!" He admitted.

Well. There's that, then. You sure had me going, kid.

(P.S. Narnia trailer!)

v2, d83: Beach party!!

Went down to the Gulf with the family-in-law today. You know, despite living in Houston for almost five years, I'd never been to Galveston. I'd actually been to the Pacific more times than I'd been to the Gulf since I moved here. Very sad, yet true.

Anyway, today's trip was a blast. My beach-going experiences have all been based on the tourist-heavy beaches of southern California, so the relatively sparsely-attended (even on Memorial Day!) Galveston beach was refreshing. It was also nice that the water wasn't so cold you had to get out after about fifteen minutes due to your toes turning different colors/losing all feeling.

Julie, Christina, and I ventured out far enough that there were fish swimming literally right to us. At one point, two fish leaped out of the water in tandem between Julie and I when we were about ten feet apart. This meant the pelicans also came pretty close. Robbie came briefly out to join us (the water was really only approaching chest-high to me at that point) and couldn't stay focused on one spot long enough to actually see many fish, but he enjoyed it anyway.

That kid LOVED the ocean! He played hard the entire time we were there. He would shriek with delight every time a wave would hit that was high enough to splash him in the face or knock him slightly off-balance. He divided his time pretty equally digging sand into a bucket, digging water into a bucket, jumping over waves by holding someone's hands, wading by himself, running through the lowest-tide area, filling up his bucket with water, and just hanging out in "deeper" water in my arms. I was afraid we weren't going to get him to leave without throwing a major fit, but I said the magic word (McDonald's) and we were off.

Now that I know the beach isn't going to be horribly crowded, and now that I know how much the kid loves it, hopefully we can make the occasional trip down to the coast.

Meanwhile: Remember, everyone, hurricane season starts June 1st! Last year, the only North American hurricane landfall was in Canada somewhere. While I wouldn't mind another mild summer of storms, Experts are predicting the WORST SEASON IN HISTORY!!! Of course, they've been predicting this worst season in history for the last four years, and I think it's only happened once, so we shall see.

v2, d82: Pool Party!

Today, my entire family-in-law invaded the pool. It was pretty awesome. We kind of took turns passing Robbie around, cleaning debris from Friday night's storm out of the pool, and just sort of relaxing. Even Kim got in the water, and I think the last time I saw her go swimming was when we went to California in the summer of 2008. We decided to get out of the pool when the massive claps of thunder started.

Darn storm.

It also moved our picnic inside.

Tomorrow is going to be a beach day. I don't know what the beach will look like for Memorial Day. I'm guessing pretty crazy crowded. That's okay, though. I generally enjoy big family outings, especially when beaches are involved.

Meanwhile, my back is getting slightly better.

Hm..what else is going on...

I have a new "feature" I want to try, but I'm going to wait until my living room isn't also a guest bedroom so I don't have to worry about being up so late.

As it is, I'm going to finish up a script that I'm sending in for publication. If you can, please pray for this. I really need to find a way for this writing hobby to start paying. Forget college, I got to put this kid through day care, first!

v2, d34: Mark and Kristen are married!

Spent today's late morning/afternoon in this nice wedding chapel tucked away just between I-45 and the Hardy Toll Road in a surprisingly forested area that you would never in a million years stumble across by accident. My friends Mark and Kristen were getting married, and I was playing the role of "Groomsman on the End." (I've now played the roles of Groom, Usher, Best Man, Groomsman on the End, and Shoeless Groomsman) I got off work for the occasion. I missed the rehearsal (due to rehearsal) so I didn't really know anything about the day's schedule before I got there (half an hour late), but that was okay because I've been in similar situations before. The last wedding I was in, I was flying into *grumble grumble* Detroit during the rehearsal, and the first wedding I was in there was no rehearsal, so I'm pretty comfortable learning things on the fly.

The biggest difference between this time and the previous times, however, is that in all previous experience where I walked in fairly clueless, somebody clued me in. I got surprisingly little information this time around, partially because I didn't know anybody else in the wedding party (except, obviously, the bride and groom) and partially because the entire wedding/reception were being run and organized by the staff at the chapel. Now don't worry, everything in the service itself went pretty smoothly. I found my spot, stood there, and turned when I was supposed to. Weddings aren't difficult, blocking-wise. After the service, though, I was pretty much on my own.

Was I supposed to sit with the rest of the wedding party? Did they want the whole wedding party to enter the reception together? Was I supposed to help clean up? Were we going to trash the getaway car? Why did they move all our personal belongings out of the groomsmen's room?

I didn't know the answers to any of these questions, and nobody thought to tell me, if anybody knew. So I pretty much winged it once the wedding pictures were all snapped. Which was fine, especially since some friends from work had claimed a table for themselves by the window that had a great shot of the fountain and the lizards that were playing just outside.

The site was just gorgeous. Really, everything about the wedding was pretty. Good colors, pretty dresses, most comfortable tuxedo I've ever worn, bride was beautiful (J. Vernon McGee once said that he believed God allows every woman to be beautiful for her wedding day. I think he may be right), ring bearers were adorable, lunch was picturesque and tasty. The flower girl realized that she still had some petals in her basket by the time she'd made it to the front of the stage, so she stopped and tried to throw the remaining petals back down the aisle onto a spot she noticed she'd missed until she was completely out. Groom cried. I'm always down with that. I got a little teary-eyed, too, cause you know, that's how I do.

After Duder and the Bergstroms left, the dance floor opened up to a song that was specially requested by the bride for everybody to learn a dance to. At first, I wasn't going to participate, but then I saw that Mark was the only guy on the floor save for the bride's father, so I jumped in to lend him a hand. It was a very simple, repetitive dance that was pretty fun. The first few times through. But the song was way too long for the dance, and I started to wish I'd jumped in on the end instead of in the middle, because there was no way to slip out until the song was over. It was fun, though. After that, they played a bunch of faster songs, and all the kids took the floor with their parents and grandparents and burned off as much of the wedding cake sugar high as they could. By the time ABBA's Dancing Queen hit the speakers, most of the guests were either gone or else over dancing, and the dance floor became an arena for a melee brawl featuring about five little boys under age six and the flower girl, who somehow managed to stay right in the middle of it the whole time without ever getting into the rough stuff. At one point, one of the youngest boys ran full speed right past me, raring back with a closed fist and whacking me in the leg as he ran by.

Twice.

Orlando recommended I give the kid a nice clean hipcheck the next time he ran by. The kid ignored me after that, though. Next time, Cooper. Next time...

Overall, a fun (though occasionally confusing) event with a romantically picturesque setting, good friends, high-quality fish and meat, silly dancing, violent children, very little information, and an extremely Christ-centered ceremony. I'm happy for the couple and glad and honored that I got a chance to be a part of their special day. Thanks to everybody who was a part of the celebration. Hope I don't look like too much of an idiot in too many of the pictures.

v2, d20: A Rainy Day at the Zoo

***Back-blogged from 3/20/2010***

Today we took a family trip to the zoo.

It’s funny that every time I told a person at work today that I was at the zoo this morning, every single one of them thought it had been work-related, despite the fact that there had never been a single announcement made about a work-related zoo event that needed staffing. I’d just say something along the lines of, “I spent all morning at the zoo,” and people would say, “And then you had to come to rehearsal? I’m so sorry!”

No, it turns out I actually like the zoo. Robbie likes it quite a bit, too, and he’s now finally at an age where he can really enjoy a zoo the way a kid enjoys a zoo. He loved the animals. His face would light up when he’d discover something new or when he saw something that he recognized from pictures/books/videos. He also running around all the paths and climbing through the tunnels they put in several of the exhibit for the kids (and the tweens, who scare the kids away with their incessant tween-ness…get off my lawn!). And it didn’t seem to damper his spirits at all that we were being dumped upon by the thick rainclouds overhead.

I hit the ZooBoo spot and fought off the sudden urge to do the Thriller dance. Of course, I don’t really know the Thriller dance. But I did get a chance to reminisce and remember how bizarre the bronze statues in that particular fountain are. Weird, weird statues.

At one point, we were walking by the orangutan pen when a pre-recorded advertisement played over a speaker hidden behind a plant or a fake rock or something. It started with a pretty noisy roar, followed by the friendly Welcome-To-The-Zoo announcer voice saying (rather ominously) “They’re coming…this summer, at your Houston Zoo, it’s dinosaurs! Don’t miss the excitement! Dinosaurs at the zoo in the summer of 2010!” Robbie suddenly looked quite concerned, grabbed Kim’s hand, and said, “I don’t want to see dinosaurs.”

Kim laughed. “I don’t want to see dinosaurs either,” she said. “They’re too noisy.”

I told Robbie that the dinosaurs weren’t actually here yet, that they’d be here later, and that we were going to leave before they came, so there was nothing to worry about. Then, Kim asked Robbie if he wanted to see the giraffes. He said, “Yeah, they’re quiet.”

The rest of the day, “quiet” became the word he used to describe any animal that he liked seeing.

While we were watching the elephants get their baths and eat their carrots, a sudden downpour of rain hit the zoo. We stayed under the cover of the elephant alcove for awhile, then I hugged Robbie tight and ran with him to the nearby reptile house while Kim and Julie followed with the umbrella. There’s a decent workout for you. I don’t think I’ve ever entered a herpetarium short on breath before in my life. (Now there was one time I was breathing a bit hard upon exiting a herpetarium, but that was because my friends and I were trying to distance ourselves quickly from our friend Herbie, who had grabbed a zookeeper by the wrist and shouted “Hey guys, I caught one!” after seeing several signs throughout the zoo that encouraged you to “Catch a Keeper” if you had any questions)

One of Robbie's favorites was the fruit bat display inside the kids' zoo. They had it set up in a little cave that had some fake stars on the ceiling and some tunnels for smaller children to crawl through. Robbie loved the bats because they were feasting on some bananas that were hanging from the ceiling. Bananas are one of Robbie's favorite foods, so I guess he thought he could relate. He started saying that he was a bat, and running around the cave looking for bananas.

Also noteworthy: the aquarium was playing the song “Rock Lobster” the whole time we were in it. I thought that had to have some sort of lasting psychological effect on the zoo workers stationed outside the front door, where the music was the loudest. Robbie recognizes clownfish as Nemos, despite the fact I think he’s only seen that movie one time at school and never at home. He has no clue what a Dorie is, and I think that made Julie a trifle disappointed.

Afterward, Kim said she was glad we didn’t check the weather before we left, because if we had then we probably wouldn’t have gone. I think she’s right. We had a really fun morning at the zoo. I mean, we got really wet (it stopped pouring, but it never stopped raining completely for the rest of our visit), and it was a little chilly by the time we left, but we really had fun. And we probably would have missed out on it if we’d have known it was going to rain. That’s a bit of a shame. After all, it’s just a little water. And with the way my schedule at work is about to explode, I’ll take every family outing that I can fit in on my Saturday mornings. Rain or shine.

v2, d21: Did so post

We're playing host this weekend to my sister-in-law Julie, and yesterday was a full day as it was, so I didn't get a chance to sit down to blog until after bedtime. As such, my blog from yesterday is on the laptop, and I'll post it tomorrow. All about our spontaneous zoo trip during yesterday's mini-monsoon. Good times!

First Little Foxes rehearsal was yesterday. First Alice Now! rehearsal is tomorrow. Very long month ahead of me. I'm absolutely looking forward to the work. Not looking forward to the fatigue nor the lack of family time over the next month. Would appreciate prayers on both fronts.

Let's see, what else?

I don't know if I've mentioned this on here before, but story time has become an important part of Robbie's bedtime routine. During this time, Robbie sits on my lap on the floor of his bedroom with the lights off, and I make up a story on the spot and tell it to him. They're very short, and they're usually pretty boring, but I try to involve elements that he's familiar with or fond of (for example, stories about a little boy named Robbie, or stories featuring Spider-Man, skyscrapers, excavators, or something we did together the day before) so he really loves them because he finds them relateable.

Before nap time today, I asked Robbie if we could take turns sharing stories, which means I got to hear what my son has picked up about the fine craft of storytelling over the past month or so. Here's what I got:

"Once upon a time, there was a digger and an excavator, and they were working, and the workers dug a hole, and then it was night time, so they went home and had dinner and rested. The next morning, they went to work, and they had to dig a BIIIIG hole, so the machines dug a big hole."

Not too bad.

Hey, I just saw a commercial about how my Census is making my neighborhood a better place. Cute commercial. I guess that's one way to try to sell your little Census, Government...

By the way, I think those of us who filled out our Census forms and sent them back within two or three days ought to get something for our compliance. A cash bonus, maybe. Or some hockey tickets. Or a Cedric plush toy. Or a ball. I dunno, something.