Corn House

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! Once you’ve had the chance to check out “Busy-Dad-E’s house”, be sure to check out all of the great bloggers over at dad-blogs.com

What, you might ask, is a Corn House?

Some variation of a Corn Maze involving a giant stack of corn muffins?

No.

A child’s craft project that involves lots of popsicle sticks, glue, dried corn, and cleaning supplies?

No.

Actually, according to Little Brother (who coined the term), it’s a place to go get a sticker that looks like a sheriff’s badge.

Confused?

Let me explain.

A few weeks ago, Mom-E got a nice little summons for jury duty. (Yay, especially since my “number” was called for jury duty in May.)

The letter included a date in which excuses would be heard.

Mom-E brainstormed a few possible excuses:

“Umm…l’d like to participate in my civic duty, only I don’t want to.”

No.

“I’m allergic to courtrooms.”

No.

Finally she settled on, “I stay at home with my 3 young children on the days I’m not at work, and so I don’t have childcare for them on those days.”

So, after a “leisurely” day of getting children fed and dressed, taking Big Brother to school, getting an allergy shot, going home and getting lunch, picking up Big Brother from school, running another errand, and running back home to get a Transformer so that a child who will remain nameless would not have a hissy fit, Mom-E and all 3 boys went to the:

COURT House.

In between the above, Mom-E called me to ask if she should wear her regular clothes or dress up for her excuse to be heard.

I suggested that regular clothes might help her case (i.e., if she has time to get all dulled up with three kids, then maybe they’re less likely to ‘buy’ her excuse.)

So into the court house they go.

Big Brother goes through the metal detector and is rewarded with the sheriff ticker described above.

Of course, because Little Brother is in the stroller and has to go around the metal detector, he is NOT given a sticker (apparently they forgot about him).

In an amazingly mature display of big brotherdom, Big Brother graciously gives the sticker to Little Brother.

So Mom-E and the boys go to a staging area with upwards of 10 other people also trying to get out of jury duty.

To her amazement, without saying anything, Mom-E is whisked to the front of the line.

Apparently, there’s a rule in our area that if you’re the primary caretaker for a child under age 6, you’re excused from jury duty.

So, with no to-do whatsoever, Mom-E got her “get out of jail free” card and was on her way home.

(If only all government was so efficient.)

Later that evening, I very much enjoyed hearing about all of the exploits of the “Corn House”, as Little Brother so cutely mispronounced it.

(I’ll admit to asking him repeated questions about it, just to hear him say, “Corn House.”)

“We went to the Corn House, but they didn’t have any stickers,” he explained, with a very serious expression.

“Yeah, and they didn’t have any cages there either,” Big Brother added (expecting to find jail cells.)

I’ve since decided that if the boys ever start a band, it should be called “Corn House Boys.”

Have a good weekend,
Rock On!
Busy-Dad-E