Memorial Day 2010

Happy Memorial Day 2010.

I hope that you are enjoying this day with family and friends, as we are here at Busy-Dad-E.

And while you're doing that, take a moment to remember those men and women who gave the ultimate sacrifice so that you CAN enjoy it.

Below is a (ere so slightly modified) repost from Veteran's Day
http://busy-dad-e.blogspot.com/2009/11/freedom-isnt-free.html

My mother told me once in my adolescent years that "you're happier when you're busy."

While that's true to a large extent, it's also important to take time to pause, reflect, enjoy, and pay respects.

(Those of you who know may be scratching your heads because you didn't know I actually have a "pause button", probably because it's usually broken.)

But on Memorial Day, we pause to show respect and to remember all those who have given the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom, at home and abroad.

Thank you for giving me the freedom to enjoy my family.

Today, and everyday.


Have a great week,
May God Bless America,
Busy-Dad-E

More Pee-Ball Exploits

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! On your way to the potty be sure to swing by dad-blogs.com to check out all of the great bloggers over there. You'll feel relieved It's a home run!

So "Pee-Ball" season is in full stream swing.

It gives me great pride to watch Big Brother play t-ball. His self-confidence has blossomed so much in the last year. No longer timid, he dives right in to the practices and games, following instructions, throwing, swinging (and missing), running as fast as he can motor, and having fun--all without need for prompting or reassurance from Mom-E or Dad-E.

I couldn't be prouder of him.

And so, for blogging purposes, the attention turns this season to Little Brother, who's overactive bladder prevents us from just sitting and watching Big Brother play keeps things interesting.

Just two anectdotes to keep you amused.

1. Little Brother got himself dressed before going to Big Brother's first game. What we didn't realize until we got to the field--and the first time he had to pee--wss that he apparently decided to GO COMMANDO.

I guess it is helpful to have "easy access" when you ask to go potty 5 times during a 45 minute game.

Fortunately for us he didn't parade his crack around (too much).

Note to self: underwear check now required before leaving the house.

2. At one of the practices, I turned myself into a rather irritable human coat rack. I had brought all 3 boys to practice, and was charged with getting everyone settled in before Mom-E met up with us.

Here's what happened:
-I helped Big Brother and Little Brother out of the minivan, and helped Big Brother get into his t-ball clothes.

-I then strapped Bab-E Brother to my chest in the Baby Bjorn.

-Next, I loaded up my arms with a diaper bag, snack bag, 2 adult-sized folding chairs, and 1 toddler-sized folding chair.

-Little Brother promptly announced he had to go #2, but REFUSED to poo in the Port-O-Potty. And by refused, I mean plopped down on the ground, kicking and screaming, while playing with dirt, refusing to get up. And he announces that he wants to go HOME to go potty (which is only about 5 minutes from the practice field).

-Big Brother refused to walk 10 yards over the baseball field by himself (practice was moments away from starting), so that I could assist Little Brother (and Bab-E Brother, diaper bag, snack bag, and 3 folding chairs) over to the potty. He even refused escort from a friend's mom.

-Bab-E Brother starts screaming inconsolably in hunger.

-Mom-E arrives to find her coat-rack husband in Bedlam, and immediately heads back home with Little Brother and Bab-E Brother for pooping and feeding, respectively. We transfer Big Brother's carseat to our other vehicle so that I can bring him home after practice, and Mom-E heads home in the mini-van.

-Big Brother no sooner gets started with practice than I realize that MY KEYS TO THE OTHER CAR ARE STILL IN THE MINIVAN.

Nite to self: repeat the following mantra, "I am not Charlie Brown. I am not Charlie Brown. I am not Charlie Brown."

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E

Kids Say Wednesday

Hi There!

So, dad-blogs.com's Wordless Wednesday was MIA last week, so I'm starting something new today in case it happens again: Kids Say Wednesday.

Consider it a variant of Bill Cosby's beloved, "Kids Say the Darndest Things". Because let's face it, our kids say some pretty funny stuff.

This week's inspiration came from Little Brother.

As you may know, I donated the "picky eater gene" to (at least) my oldest two boys.

(If you'd like to read more about that, just sit back, pop open a granola bar, and peruse posts labeled "Eating".)

Because Little Brother emulates much of what Big Brother says and does, if Big Brother declares a food yucky, chances are it isn't crossing Little Brother's lips either.

But there are a few notable exceptions, including peanuts.

Little Brother has been on a peanut kick lately. He'll eat some peanut butter crackers, but prefers to nibble on straight, lightly salty, dry roasted Planters.

The other day at lunch, Little Brother was nibbbling away on his peanuts. We offered some to Big Brother, who did some combination of make a pucker face, yell "yuck", or fling them off his plate (or all 3, it runs together).

I asked Little Brother to tell him that he liked peanuts.

Without hesitation, he replied:

"PEANUTS ARE GOOD, BIG BROTHER. THEY TASTE LIKE WAFFLES!"

(Mom-E and) I admit to laughing pretty hard at that one.

It was a nice try on Little Brother's part, except that even though we know with 100% certainty that Big Brother likes waffles, lately when we make them he won't eat them.

It was also a nice insight into the mind--AND TASTE BUDS--of a picky toddler. In a world where waffles taste like peanuts, no wonder it's hard to figure out what they'll eat.

Now all we need to do is figure out what tastes like chicken that the'll eat.

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E

Halloween In May

Hey, if they can have Christmas in July, then why not Halloween in May.

This all got started when the boys discovered their Batman costumes from last year in the closet.

Next thing you know, both Big Brother and Little Brother are parading around the house in full Bat-regalia.

This was followed by a 45 minute Q&A about their Halloween candy buckets.

Oh, and by Q&A, I mean Little Brother asking "Do you know where our bucketes are?" over-and-over again, until he's used up all available oxygen in the room, to any living creature that will listen.

What makes this even funnier is that he calls candy, "kee-on-dee".

It gets really interesting to have him say "I have candy in my pants", which comes out "I have kee-on-dee in my pee-onts."

So, while we're preparing to enjoy the next 5 months of being asked multiple times daily "Is it Halloween yet?", apparently the boys have rearranged our family tree a bit in preparation for costumes for next Halloween. Here are everybody's new assignments:

Big Brother - Batman

Little Brother - Robin

Bab-E Brother - Commissioner

Mom-E - Batgirl

Dad-E - Alfred

Never mind under this new arrangement, Bab-E Brother is now Mom-E's Dad-E. Sorry, Grampap-E.

Have a good week, don't do any laundry with kee-on-dee in your pee-onts,
Busy-Dad-E

The Church Heckler: Strangers With Toys

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! I promise not to pressure you too much into heading over to dad-blogs.com to check out all of the great bloggers over there. Do it! You know you want to.

So our family had quite the unusual experience at church last week. (And I'm glad we've been going there for years, because if it was our first time, I think we'd be looking for a different church).

Things were going pretty well for us from a made-it-on-time/kids-being-quiet-and-attentive/not-going-potty-every-2-minutes kind of perspective.

Maybe about half-way through the service, Big Brother was acting a little "restless". Not loud, not disruptive, just needing some urging to "stand when it's time to stand, sit when it's time to sit, etc."

We just happen to feel that if we don't expect the boys to behave properly at church (or wherever), then they'll never learn how to do so.

Apparently, this lady about 3 rows back cued in on Big Brother's restlessness.

Next thing you know, she reaches forward with a (non-Transformer brand) Transformer--intact in original packaging--and kinda shoves it upon Mom-E to "here, give this to him."

Granted, we should've politely just said "no thanks", but the shock of her action--coupled with not wanting to talk out loud--resulted in the reflex of the hand closing on the package.

Amazingly, Big Brother didn't blurt out, "I want that." In fact, he really didn't even acknowledge it.

In addition to being slightly beside myself that this lady was trying to "parent for us" in a way, I felt strongly that Big Brother's restless behavior should not be rewarded/reinforced with giving him a toy.

(Not to mention the "fight" that would ensue between 2 brothers if only 1 child was given a toy.)

(And also not to mention that we've been trying hard to keep the boys from bringing ANY toys to church).

So quietly, politely, I put the toy under a chair behind the diaper bag, such that it was out of view of small children.

It wasn't that long thereafter that she started making comments (to the lady sitting next to her) OUT LOUD. (I mean a little bit louder than a typical speaking voice.)

"Let him play with it."

"If they're not going to open it, they're never going to get another toy from me."

"C'mon, give it to him."

At that point, so many thoughts were swirling through my head:
-Regardless of your faith background, I imagine most everyone would consider it more than slightly rude/offensive to be talking out loud like that at a church service.

-Why aren't the people sitting next to her not so politely asking her to SHUT UP?!?

-Is she playing passive aggressive with me, trying to bait me into a Royal Rumble of words right in the middle of church?

-What kind of person brings toys to give to kids at church?

-You are NOT Big Brother's parent, and perhaps you should--I don't know--BUTT OUT!

A few minutes later, Mom-E had to step out to feed Bab-E Brother. As she's headed out, I hear a voice call out--even more loudly--

"SIR! SIR!"

I wasn't even going to turn around and acknowledge her--why add to the disturbance--but another person tapped my shoulder.

"Do you want that (toy)?"

"No," I nodded silently, and handed it back.

Fortunately for us, the lady left before the service was over (we don't know her personally, but have seen her there before and she always leaves early).

As we were leaving, I was somewhat surprised that no one else in the vicinity said something like, "Uh, that was weird."

We were also fortunate that Little Brother never saw the toy, and Big Brother was content with the explanation that we gave the toy back because "That lady did not have good behavior at church. You did a good job. What she was doing was not good."

Next week, I think we'll sit in the front row.

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E

My Jet Pack Is Also My Best Friend

Hey Guys I'm Cold Back Here

So Mom-E and I feel pretty terrible.

The general expectation in our family is that Bab-E Brother does not like to ride in the minivan—AT ALL. This has been a pattern for quite a few weeks now. It seems like unless he’s asleep, he starts screaming within about 5 minutes of departure.

Our first thought was that his binkie has fallen out of his mouth, resulting in the screaming fit.

To address this, sometimes either Mom-E or I would sit in the back seat with Big Brother, which allows us “access” to re-plug Bab-E Brother’s mouth with a fallen binkie, as he rides facing backwards in the middle seat.

However, the results were still suboptimal, as defined by having to “re-bink” (i.e., put the binkie back in his mouth) the entire trip, and he still screams.

The other day, I’m riding in the back seat with Big Brother, dutifully “re-binking” Bab-E Brother quite frequently.

As I’m fishing in his car seat for the fallen binkie, I realize that Bab-E Brother’s hand is pretty cold.
 
Granted it’s been made worse by warming temperatures outside, and as a result cooler temperatures/higher fan speeds inside the minivan, but I “discovered” that one of the air vents was pointing pretty much directly at Bab-E Brother.

Heck, I’d start screaming if cold air was blowing right at me.

And so, I changed the direction of air flow from the vent and—voila!—within 5 minutes Bab-E Brother was asleep. Doh!

(Okay, so he still screams some while riding in the van, but it's definitely much better.)

As I said at the beginning, Mom-E and I feel pretty terrible about this one.

You’d think with 3 kids we’d have these kinds of things “figured out” by now.
TAKE-HOME POINT: Babies do NOT like having cold air blown on them incessantly. It will make them scream. Incessantly.

Apparently they left that one out of the official Instruction Manual.

Methinks we need some more sleep.

At least trips in the minivan will induce a little less screaming from here on.

Have a good week,
Wishing you mild, comfortable temperatures for all your travels,
Busy-Dad-E, father of 2 boys and 1 popsicle baby

Pass the Pee-Ball

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! Thanks to dad-blogs.com for having “good aim” with their sponsorship of this fun-filled event. Don’t forget to flush to leave a comment here before checking out all of the great bloggers over there.

It’s May and that can only mean one thing over here at Busy-Dad-E: it’s T-BALL season!

It doesn’t get better than a hoard of wild, screaming 4 and 5 year-olds running aimlessly over the field while wielding metal bats! I love it!

(Seriously, it’s great fun, good exercise, and teaches about commitment, teamwork, and sportsmanship—and that just what it takes to GET to t-ball practice.)

For those of you who were entertained with the antics of last year’s soccer and baseball seasons, no doubt there will be more of the same this year.

Big Brother was genuinely excited about playing baseball again this year. In particular, he had fun trying out his new cleats by running about 100 yards down the aisle of the sporting goods store. While he was running, Little Brother pretty much started to strip because he wanted to try on Big Brother’s new shorts. (I’m guessing there’s a “no nudity” policy at the store.)

You may remember that last season at the first practice (about 45 minutes) he “outscored” his entire team BY HIMSELF…in terms of TRIPS TO THE POTTY.

Box Score:
Big Brother 3
Rest of Team 0

This year, I picked up the boys after work, and drove all 3 to the practice field. As we drove, the boys munched on their “snacks” (aka dinner).

Amazingly, we arrived about 20 minutes early. However, 20 minutes early in our world just means we had enough time to go to the potty—TWICE—before practice started.

If you’re having a bad week, just picture all 3 boys and I crammed into a Port-O-Potty. Bab-E Brother was strapped to my chest, facing forward, in the Baby Bjorn. Big Brother and Little Brother were standing on opposite sides of the potty, their feet at the level of the seat. I’m bracing them as they each leaned in for relief. Amazingly, all persons, clothing, and personal items—including binkies and burp towels—made it out dry (mostly), and no one “crossed the streams.”

Having depleted themselves of the “chocolate juice” they consumed on the ride to practice, the boys were ready to play.

Big Brother took to the field without hesitation, did a good job following instructions, and was having a good—and potty break-free—time.

Dad-E Little Brother was rescued by the arrival of Mom-E, who joined us at the start of practice, equipped with Little Brother’s fat bat and wiffle ball, which assuaged his jealously over not being able to play with the bigger boys. Thank you, Smart Lad-E!

However, if urinary frequency at the t-ball field is an “infectious disease”, then Big Brother must’ve developed some immunity, but not before transmitting the responsible pathogen to Little Brother.

In short, the “Pee-Ball” Torch has been passed.

It doesn’t help that, being relatively recently potty trained, Little Brother has to go pee-pee the moment that first drop of urine hits the wall of his completely empty bladder, and sometimes even before that moment.

As the official score-keeper, it appears that Little Brother 1-upped Big Brother by going potty 4 (FOUR) times during the 45 minute practice (but 1 of those times we trekked to the potty, only for him to say “I don’t have to go potty!” the moment we get there, so does that really count?)

Despite that, everyone, Bab-E Brother included, had a good time, and we’re looking forward to revisiting the Port-O-Potty the next practice tonight!

Have a good weekend,
Play ball and stay dry,
Busy-Dad-E

Take-Me-To-Your-Pool

I've Gotta Go Pee-Pee

Even at night, when everyone else is asleep, and my eyes are closed, I still hear these words running through my head.

As some of you know, with a little help from peeing on waffles and cheerios, and Mom-E and Dad-E's un-pattened blockbuster potty training weekend strategy, Little Brother is out of diapers!

Sure, he still has some occasional accidents, particularly when he's playing hard outside and not paying attention, or if we're "out n' about" for extended time periods.

Still, for 2 1/2, he's doing fantastic! (I mean, I'm 30-something and I'd be scared to pee in some public bathrooms, so I can understand how this would create problems/fear for him.)

A couple of things have been particularly funny about Little Brother's potty training.

1. He often requests for privacy, using that word. It's amazing to me that he has a decent understanding of its meaning. "Dad-E, leave me alone. I need privacy." Of course, privacy means NOTHING to him if YOU are the one in the bathroom.

2. At times, Little Brother refuses to sit on a potty seat, and instead insists on standing. The only problem is that his equipment is just a little shorter than the height of the potty. So, he's developed this unique strategy of standing on tiptoes, and resting things on the rim of the potty until things flow.

It looks quite uncomfortable, and sometimes I'm not sure how the pee comes out despite the "kink in the garden hose." Of course, it's still a BIG TIME spray hazard.

3. He seems to be able to sense when his bladder has filled with ONE SINGLE drop of urine, because we no sooner go potty, get back in the car, and start driving away that he exclaims, "I've gotta go pee-pee" (as he kicks off his shoes and socks).

And being a fickle 2 year-old, you no sooner take him back to the potty that he declares, "I don't have to go potty." Uugghh!

(I'm not fickle. Well, maybe I am. Well, no...)

This usually goes on about 10 times within the span of a mile.

4. He can't/doesn't say "pants". He calls them "pee-onts". You know it's not good when he's strapped in his car seat and you hear him call out. "I go pee-pee already. I need new pee-onts."

When Mom-E and I hear that phrase, it's hard not to go into a ree-ont about all of the extra laundry (including the carseat cover), that we don't wee-ont to do, but I guess there are worse things than wet pee-onts.

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E

Pre-School Graduation

Dear Big Brother,

Last week you graduated from Preschool!

I can't believe you're starting kindergarten in the fall! Weren't you just born?

I was very glad to have had the "day off" (in fatherhood there is no such thing as a true "day off") so that Mom-E, Little Brother, Bab-E Brother, and I could all attend.

Since your preschool is associated with our church, graduation was held in the sanctuary.

We found our seats in time to see a line of 4 and 5 year-olds dressed in mortar boards and white t-shirts with the handprint of everyone in the class. As everyone processed to the front, the sentimental tear-jerking music playing (one of the songs was Darius Rucker's "It won't be like this for long"), it was all I could do to fight back the tears.

I was seriously about ready to burst out crying, when I leaned over to Mom-E and said, "Where's Big Brother? I don't see him."

The sense of slight panic that ensued took care of the tears. My first thought wasn't that you'd been abducted, but rather that you had a tantrum and refused to participate, kinda like what happened with the Christmas Play.

I rushed to the back to talk to the school director, who assured me that you were up there. Turns out you were just standing directly behind a girl who was a little taller than you, and when every child is wearing the same shirt and hat, it was hard to pick you out even with your sweet, adorable smile and face.

And the graduation ceremony was lovely.

I only had to leave once to take Little Brother to go potty. And when we got to the bathroom and he refused to go potty, I brought him right back. I was not going to miss you walking on stage to receive your certificate, even if that meant having to carry a toddler with wet pants.

The cutest part of the ceremony was that when they called everyone's name, they announced what you (told them you) wanted to be when you grew up. There were lots of future "Army Men", a couple of doctors, and even a "Batman" and a "Beautiful Ballerina."

But Big Brother was the only future Engineer in the group. I was very proud (fwiw, dear readers, I'm not an engineer), and I'll be proud no matter your career choice.

(I know that right now you think that an engineer drives trains and occasionally builds things like tracks, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if you became a "real" engineer.)

Your teacher read a story entitled "I can do anything."

And I think that sums things up nicely. You can do anything you want, anything you put your mind to, Big Brother. You're a smart boy. Read those last sentences again--if you set goals, work hard, are diligent, and have faith, you can accomplish whatever you put your mind to.

I know this because I saw you trying to open your Batman umbrella INSIDE while at the reception. That's my boy, "thinking outside the box."


Of course, the cake and Sprite afterwards was nice too, even if that meant 2 young boys hyped up on sugar and in need of external catheters.

This was a great day. A wonderful milestone moment in your life.

I love you, big guy. You have an will continue to make me proud to be your Dad-E.
Love,
Dad-E

The Contest That Almost Was

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! Thanks to dad-blogs.com for hosting this weekly event.

So a couple of months ago, I wrote a funny post about my boys drinking Tum-E Yummies, and in jest I mentioned that it was written in the stars that Tum-E Yummies would be a perfect sponsor for my blog.

(Yeah right, I thought.)

Well about a month ago, I received an email from a marketing intern at Tum-E Yummies saying they were interested in the possibility of pursuing a creative partnership with my blog.

Wow! Too funn-E!

Yay! Free Tum-E Yummies for my boys! Free Tum-E Yummies for my boys! Free Tum-E Yummies for my boys!

We discussed ideas for a promotional-type contest, and the conversation was positive.

However, things got delayed a little bit because they were away for a week at a national business meeting.

Pause for a moment, as I did, to think about what must go on at a national Tum-E Yummies meeting? Do they all sit around and ideate while drinking Tum-E Yummies? Would it be a sacrilege to serve any drinks at the meeting BESIDES Tum-E Yummies--not even coffee or tea?

About another week passed, and I received a follow-up email that they were still interested in the idea but were checking on some details.

Is this codespeak for "we're still 'hung-over' from all of the Tum-E Yummies we drank at the national meeting"?

And then nothing for another 2 weeks, until this week, when I received an email that their attorney said that FTC rules would prohibit such a partnership.

Still, kind of interesting that what started out as a humorous little post made it all the way up to the attorney for Tum-E Yummies.

I can just imagine a bunch of people sitting around a boardroom talking about my blog. Hopefully they read some of my trials and tribulations as coach of Big Brother's soccer team, which Weaselmomma some readers have particularly enjoyed. Hmm...perhaps my kids would've played better soccer if we brought Tum-E Yummies to all practices/games.

So, anyway, I know I promised everyone a contest, but I'm back to square one as far as that goes.

Fortunately, I didn't tell the boys about the potential for such a contest/prize, otherwise they would've cried their Tum-E Yummies out.

And I conclude now with a brief disclaimer in legal-ese:
Busy-Dad-E: Fatherhood Uncensored blog does NOT have any formal partnership with the fine folks at Tum-E Yummies. They do NOT pay me to talk about them/their products (neither in money nor bottles of Tum-E Yummies), nor did they spike my Tum-E Yummies in any way to make me talk about them. I'm just a dad with boys who like Tum-E Yummies, and I've written a couple of (hopfeully) funny posts related to their products. That's as far as it goes.

Have a good weekend, while I go drown my sorrows in a six-pack of Tum-E Yummies,
Busy-Dad-E

Who Says You Can't Bring a Batman Umbrella to an Indoor Preschool Graduation

The Character Goes in the Front

So I really didn't intend for this to be "Busy-Dad-E Rants" week, but so far we're 2 for 2.

Today's topic: toddler underwear.

I really only have one issue with them:

WHY DO YOU PUT THE CHARACTERS ON THE BUTT?!?

I mean, I'm a little jealous that Big Brother and Little Brother get to wear underwear with Spider Man, Batman, and Iron Man, etc.

But let's face it, boys want to be able to SEE the characters, even if it's only for 10 minutes 30 seconds until their pants are on after you've pinned them in a figure 4 leg lock and wrestled them on.

And they DON'T CARE if that means putting their underwear on BACKWARDS, which creates a pseudo-thong effect.

"Dad-E, my underwear are backwards!" Little Brother exclaims when I try to put them on him the RIGHT way.

And you can forget about them even listening to you when you suggest that they turn them around.

So thank you, underwear people, for creating a generation of boys who are "underwear illiterate".

Apparently NONE of you have small children. Thanks.

See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E

Lowe's

Today's post is more of a rant.

I'd like to preface by saying that I like Lowe's. We've spent several $1000 at Lowe's in the last 5 years. We will continue to shop there. And having recently moved, we make at least 1 trip there weekly.

But sometimes I'd like to spell Lowe's starting with a silent "B".

Lowe's slogan is "Improving Home Improvement."

Might I suggest that you first "improve the home improvement store."

Here's a few suggestions.

1. Start making detailed maps of the store that are handed out by your Wal-Mart-style greeter. I CAN'T FIND ANYTHING AT YOUR STORE! NOTHING! EVER!

Can I have a personal shopper? When they greet me and say, "Can I help you with anything today?" I want to say:

"Why yes, here's my list. Can you plese find all of this sh*t for me? Because I really have no idea where any of it is. I'll be waiting with my children at the tractors.

2. Could you please move the tractors to either a) the checkout, or b) the far corner of the store?

We walk in to the store, and BAM, my children sprint for the tractors, which are always straight ahead. (Okay, so I fibbed in #1. I know where the tractors are, but that's it.)

We can't get any shopping done for at least 15 minutes because my kids must each climb into the seat of every single tractor.

3. Move your greeter to the tractor area. Put a fence around it. Turn it into a childcare area. Just let the kids play on the tractors while the parents shop. We'll love you.

4. Put things in aisles that are remotely in the same genre.

The other day, we needed to buy a "touch-up pen" for our hardwood floor. We stumbled into went to the "Hardwood Floors" aisle. No touch up pens. Apparently they're in an obscure aisle in "Painting."

Oh, I need to buy some child locks. Maybe I'll start by looking in "Plumbing."

5. Either a) require that you pay for assembly, or b) put an honest sign that reads, "WARNING! Your children will learn new words unless you pay us to have this assembled."

We recently bought some rocking chairs at Lowe's. Now I'm not a Super Mr-Fix-It, but I can do a few basic things and follow instructions. I figured I could save us $20 and put together the chairs myself.

I thought wrong. Especially when I got to the very last piece and it was clear that there's not a snowball's chance in h-e-double-hockey-sticks that it's going to fit.
At least the boys had fun LAYING ABSOLUTE WASTE to the styrofoam in the box.

Never again. Please Lowe's. Please take my $20. Please take my money.

If only I could find the cash registers.

Well, gotta go return those chairs.

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E