In 100 words or less.
An essay by Busy-Dad-E
*****
After a 3 hour adventure getting the boys urinated, bathed, urinated, dressed, urinated, fed, urinated and loaded in the minivan (and urinated), we were ready to depart on a 400 mile road trip. We circled around to the front of the hotel (a distance of about 50 feet) to check-out. We parked, and as I unbuckled my seatbelt, Little Brother asked—in all sincerity—“are we at Papa’s?”
“Not quite, buddy,” I replied. “only another 2,111,950 feet to go.”
*****
See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Happy Turkey Day Tomorrow,
From my 3 Turkeys to Yours,
Busy-Dad-E
Pee.S. A proposed new unit of measure for travelling with young kids: Gallons Per Mile
(gallons being measured in urine). Any number greater than 1 is bad.
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, July 6, 2009
Shoes and Spews
I hope everyone had a nice 4th of July weekend. I enjoyed some time with the family.
However, our weekend was a bit of a whirlwind, and you know what can happen when you get too dizzy (details to follow below).
I got home from my conference at about 10:45 pm on Thursday (missed a connection due to weather), helped Mom-E finish packing, went to bed at about 12:30 am, got up at 3:45 am, and we left for the airport again at 4:30 am. Ouch.
We had a nice time at the family reunion on Saturday.
The only problem was that Mom-E and I weren't very nice to Little Brother.
Of course, I no sooner write a post about how much Little Brother loves shoes, then Mom-E and I manage to FORGET LITTLE BROTHER'S SHOES (AND SOCKS) FOR THE REUNION AT THE HOTEL. I mean, talk about pretty much stabbing the little guy in the heart.
(If I appear to be a professional actor playing a tired, forgetful father, it's because I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night. Seriously.)
"How could such a travesty happen?" you might think.
In short, it was Big Brother's fault. Okay, not entirely.
We've gotten into the habit lately of waiting to put on Little Brother's socks and shoes until we arrive at our destination. This is because if we try to put them on beforehand, he automatically takes them off in the car, so why bother?
Big Brother became quite upset about having extra clothes, including Little Brother's socks and shoes, in his backpack, and before we left the hotel, pretty much emptied the contents therein on the floor. In the mad rush to leave, apparently Little Brother's socks and shoes were left behind.
Unfortunately, it was about a 45 minute drive from the hotel to the reunion site, so going back really wasn't an option.
Fortunately, Little Brother didn't seem to mind very much. The rain resulted in cancellation of outdoor activities. The large numbers of people indoors made Little Brother quite clingy, and he wanted to be carried around the entire time, thereby negating the need for socks and shoes.
Unfortunately, it turned out that feeling a bit under the weather also contributed to Little Brother's clingyness.
For about a week now, he's had a small number of episodes of spitting up, and seems to be pretty much himself in between.
Well, just before the fireworks started that night, Little Brother put on his own "display." This time he went beyond spitting up all the way to a full-fledged episode of puke your guts out. All over himself and all over Mom-E. I mean hair, face, shirt, pants, and SHOES. Apparently someone Biggie-Sized his puke. Poor Little Brother. Poor Mom-E.
Being pregnant, many smells are intensified for her, and apparently puke is one of those smells.
I raced to their aide, grabbed my puking child (resulting in a mild transfer of puke to my clothes), and helped him to finish while Mom-E was escorted to the shower by other family. I then took Big Brother for a decontamination bath of his own.
Fortunately, everyone was in warm, dry clothes by the time the real fireworks started. Amazingly, Little Brother felt much better after his puke-fest, and was jabbering away like his usual self.
So, this morning, Mom-E and I held back on the milk products, figuring that they might not help Little Brother's stomach.
It didn't make a difference.
Again, out of the blue, we had another (but fortunately much more mild) puke while waiting at the gate for our first flight. It happened while I was taking Big Brother potty (are you surprised?). Apparently, everyone else in the terminal just sat there and looked at Mom-E, I guess waiting for Little Brother's head to start spinning around?
Thanks, guys. Thanks for helping out the pregnant lady with the puking toddler. Go America. Happy 4th to you, too.
Fortunately, we had no more spews the rest of the trip.
I've diagnosed him with IPD = Intermittent Puking Disorder. We'll see what the pediatrician says tomorrow.
Have a good week with NO PUKING (especially in your shoes),
Busy-Dad-E
However, our weekend was a bit of a whirlwind, and you know what can happen when you get too dizzy (details to follow below).
I got home from my conference at about 10:45 pm on Thursday (missed a connection due to weather), helped Mom-E finish packing, went to bed at about 12:30 am, got up at 3:45 am, and we left for the airport again at 4:30 am. Ouch.
We had a nice time at the family reunion on Saturday.
The only problem was that Mom-E and I weren't very nice to Little Brother.
Of course, I no sooner write a post about how much Little Brother loves shoes, then Mom-E and I manage to FORGET LITTLE BROTHER'S SHOES (AND SOCKS) FOR THE REUNION AT THE HOTEL. I mean, talk about pretty much stabbing the little guy in the heart.
(If I appear to be a professional actor playing a tired, forgetful father, it's because I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night. Seriously.)
"How could such a travesty happen?" you might think.
In short, it was Big Brother's fault. Okay, not entirely.
We've gotten into the habit lately of waiting to put on Little Brother's socks and shoes until we arrive at our destination. This is because if we try to put them on beforehand, he automatically takes them off in the car, so why bother?
Big Brother became quite upset about having extra clothes, including Little Brother's socks and shoes, in his backpack, and before we left the hotel, pretty much emptied the contents therein on the floor. In the mad rush to leave, apparently Little Brother's socks and shoes were left behind.
Unfortunately, it was about a 45 minute drive from the hotel to the reunion site, so going back really wasn't an option.
Fortunately, Little Brother didn't seem to mind very much. The rain resulted in cancellation of outdoor activities. The large numbers of people indoors made Little Brother quite clingy, and he wanted to be carried around the entire time, thereby negating the need for socks and shoes.
Unfortunately, it turned out that feeling a bit under the weather also contributed to Little Brother's clingyness.
For about a week now, he's had a small number of episodes of spitting up, and seems to be pretty much himself in between.
Well, just before the fireworks started that night, Little Brother put on his own "display." This time he went beyond spitting up all the way to a full-fledged episode of puke your guts out. All over himself and all over Mom-E. I mean hair, face, shirt, pants, and SHOES. Apparently someone Biggie-Sized his puke. Poor Little Brother. Poor Mom-E.
Being pregnant, many smells are intensified for her, and apparently puke is one of those smells.
I raced to their aide, grabbed my puking child (resulting in a mild transfer of puke to my clothes), and helped him to finish while Mom-E was escorted to the shower by other family. I then took Big Brother for a decontamination bath of his own.
Fortunately, everyone was in warm, dry clothes by the time the real fireworks started. Amazingly, Little Brother felt much better after his puke-fest, and was jabbering away like his usual self.
So, this morning, Mom-E and I held back on the milk products, figuring that they might not help Little Brother's stomach.
It didn't make a difference.
Again, out of the blue, we had another (but fortunately much more mild) puke while waiting at the gate for our first flight. It happened while I was taking Big Brother potty (are you surprised?). Apparently, everyone else in the terminal just sat there and looked at Mom-E, I guess waiting for Little Brother's head to start spinning around?
Thanks, guys. Thanks for helping out the pregnant lady with the puking toddler. Go America. Happy 4th to you, too.
Fortunately, we had no more spews the rest of the trip.
I've diagnosed him with IPD = Intermittent Puking Disorder. We'll see what the pediatrician says tomorrow.
Have a good week with NO PUKING (especially in your shoes),
Busy-Dad-E
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Parenting With Pop Tarts
If there’s a “picky eater gene”, it’s definitely dominantly inherited because I’ve passed it on to both boys.
The silver-lining is that with the help of the right woman, it’s possible to overcome the “picky eater gene”, even to the point of no longer being classified as a picky eater (thanks, Busy-Mom-E.)
In the mean time, Mom-E and I still have about 18-22 years of picky eating around the house.
Please note, this doesn’t mean an absence of trying to work on the “problem.” We continue to try to put a small amount of “new” foods on the boys’ plates at mealtimes.
This usually results in screams of protest to “take that away”, if not outright refusal to sit at the table. Still, we gingerly attempt to offer new foods.
Some parents would say, “Just let your kid go hungry. Eventually they’ll eat.”
If that were a viable option, then we’d consider it. However, in addition to the “picky eater gene”, the boys also inherited two copies of the “stubborn, type A personality gene.”
This means that before they would eat something in the category of “green” or “meat” or “new”, they would prefer to either:
1. Pass out from hunger.
2. Become unbelievably irritable and hyperactive secondary to hypoglycemia.
I’m going to give you a recipe now:
Combine
2 Picky Eaters, plus
1 Trip far away from home,
“Bake” for a few days, and you get
EVEN PICKIER EATERS.
This summed up a portion of our recent trip to California.
You see, sometimes picky eaters become even pickier when they’re out of their surroundings (perhaps an attempt to gain more control over a foreign environment?)
We already knew that getting the boys to eat would be challenging, so early in the trip, we made the most of our downtown situation. We found a store and stocked up on as many of their favorites as possible.
The only problem was that we missed the memo that many of these things were off the preferred foods list.
Finally, several days into the trip, with the boys starting to get a little on the cranky, fussy, “stop playing with the light switchy”, “stop hitting your brothery”, “don’t jump on the bed while I’m trying to brush your teethy” from mild undernutrition, I broke down.
I bought a box of Pop Tarts. We don’t usually give the boys Pop Tarts, but it’s one “food” I knew they were highly unlikely to refuse.
And the clouds parted and the sun shone down upon us.
Big Brother ate two in a single sitting, and even Little Brother ate one.
You could almost feel the tension leave the hotel room.
It was amazing. Children with full bellies are amazing.
We became (quite a bit) more pleasant and cooperative, and even occasionally listened to directions (following them was another story).
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Pop Tarts saved our vacation, but they definitely helped.
I also wouldn’t go so far as to say that Pop Tarts are more effective at parenting our boys than either Mom-E or I, but they definitely helped.
IN SUMMARY: If they ever made a Batman-like “utility belt” for dads/parents, there should definitely be a holster for Pop Tarts.
What else would you have on your dad/parent “utility belt”? I’d love to hear from you.
See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E
The silver-lining is that with the help of the right woman, it’s possible to overcome the “picky eater gene”, even to the point of no longer being classified as a picky eater (thanks, Busy-Mom-E.)
In the mean time, Mom-E and I still have about 18-22 years of picky eating around the house.
Please note, this doesn’t mean an absence of trying to work on the “problem.” We continue to try to put a small amount of “new” foods on the boys’ plates at mealtimes.
This usually results in screams of protest to “take that away”, if not outright refusal to sit at the table. Still, we gingerly attempt to offer new foods.
Some parents would say, “Just let your kid go hungry. Eventually they’ll eat.”
If that were a viable option, then we’d consider it. However, in addition to the “picky eater gene”, the boys also inherited two copies of the “stubborn, type A personality gene.”
This means that before they would eat something in the category of “green” or “meat” or “new”, they would prefer to either:
1. Pass out from hunger.
2. Become unbelievably irritable and hyperactive secondary to hypoglycemia.
I’m going to give you a recipe now:
Combine
2 Picky Eaters, plus
1 Trip far away from home,
“Bake” for a few days, and you get
EVEN PICKIER EATERS.
This summed up a portion of our recent trip to California.
You see, sometimes picky eaters become even pickier when they’re out of their surroundings (perhaps an attempt to gain more control over a foreign environment?)
We already knew that getting the boys to eat would be challenging, so early in the trip, we made the most of our downtown situation. We found a store and stocked up on as many of their favorites as possible.
The only problem was that we missed the memo that many of these things were off the preferred foods list.
Finally, several days into the trip, with the boys starting to get a little on the cranky, fussy, “stop playing with the light switchy”, “stop hitting your brothery”, “don’t jump on the bed while I’m trying to brush your teethy” from mild undernutrition, I broke down.
I bought a box of Pop Tarts. We don’t usually give the boys Pop Tarts, but it’s one “food” I knew they were highly unlikely to refuse.
And the clouds parted and the sun shone down upon us.
Big Brother ate two in a single sitting, and even Little Brother ate one.
You could almost feel the tension leave the hotel room.
It was amazing. Children with full bellies are amazing.
We became (quite a bit) more pleasant and cooperative, and even occasionally listened to directions (following them was another story).
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Pop Tarts saved our vacation, but they definitely helped.
I also wouldn’t go so far as to say that Pop Tarts are more effective at parenting our boys than either Mom-E or I, but they definitely helped.
IN SUMMARY: If they ever made a Batman-like “utility belt” for dads/parents, there should definitely be a holster for Pop Tarts.
What else would you have on your dad/parent “utility belt”? I’d love to hear from you.
See you on Fatherhood Friday,
Busy-Dad-E
Monday, May 25, 2009
Laptop Puter
For Mother’s Day I bought Busy-Mom-E an iPod Touch. She bought me an iPod Nano 2G for our wedding anniversary, and we’ve both enjoyed using it (particularly with the Nike Plus iPod for running).
I wanted her to have an iPod of her own so thatshe’d stop using mine we don’t have to fight over it we could each have one to use when I am away at conferences. (Not to mention, they’re fun and she’s a technophile.)
I also knew that she’d be travelling solo with the boys to California shortly after Mother’s Day, and the games and video might come in handy. Target had a nice deal on the iPod Touch, so I bought one.
Let me say that I detest keeping secrets when it comes to presents. As soon as I bought it, I wanted to yell out, “Hey, I just bought you an iPod touch for Mother’s Day!”
And as soon as I bought it, Big Brother wanted to know what we were getting Mom-E for Mother’s Day. Knowing that he was a high-risk to blurt out the surprise to Mom-E, and knowing that he wouldscream uncontrollably be insistent until he saw her “prize”, I made a compromise.
I showed it to him and told him we bought Mom-E a “little laptop computer.” That way, even if he leaked the secret, the actual item might still be a surprise for Mom-E. I even showed him the demo video on apple.com. (This planted the seed for his metamorphosis into IRON MAN, which is previewed in this video).
Amazingly, we made it the entire 10 days until Mother’s Day without letting the secret slip, although Big Brother did ask me from time to time about the “Laptop PUTER” (as he calls it.)
Well, the iPod Touch was a big hit with both Mom-E AND Big Brother.
You see, Big Brother also inherited the technophile gene.
And he’s 4, and it’s hard to share sometimes, especially when you’ve already seen how you can play cool games and watch your favorite videos on the Laptop Puter.
In other words, Big Brother pretty much thought the Laptop Puter was a present for HIM.
Needless to say, there was initially some yelling and some tantruming about the ownership and use of this device.
Fortunately, we set some ground rules regarding time-limited use of the Laptop Puter for Big Brother.
I’ve written about this before, but I’m amazed at the ability of young children to use modern technology. Big Brother, who is 4 (and illiterate), has no trouble navigating this hand-held device. He can turn it on, select a favorite game or movie, and get it up and running faster than you can say “Do you have to go potty?”
They say that immersion is the best way to learn a foreign language. I think the same thing goes for technology. If you grow up inundated with technology, you’re so much more “comfortable” using it, even if the device is something “new.” By contrast, I got my first non-Commodore computer when I was in high school. I’m sure the specs on the iPod Touch blow that computer away.
And while I want my children to spend plenty of time playing and running outside (not inside the house naked after bath time), I still want them to become “fluent” with this technology.
The Laptop Puter has also been a nice behavior modification tool.
“If you keep acting that way, then you won’t get to play with the Laptop Puter today.”
(I should make an App for that--a voice that says the above phrase.)
Even with these limitations, I think he’s still used it more than anyone else in the family.
I just got to play the car racing game for the first time on the airplane ride back from California.
I didn’t play but about 2 minutes when I heard, “Hey, Dad-E, I’ll trade ‘ya.”
Next thing I know, Big Brother’s playing the racing game on the Laptop Puter, and I’m holding a set of alphabet flash cards. Go figure.
Maybe we should get a Wii, which at least has multi-player capabilities.
Then again, maybe not for a little while.
I’ll have to ask Mrs. Claus.
Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E
I wanted her to have an iPod of her own so that
I also knew that she’d be travelling solo with the boys to California shortly after Mother’s Day, and the games and video might come in handy. Target had a nice deal on the iPod Touch, so I bought one.
Let me say that I detest keeping secrets when it comes to presents. As soon as I bought it, I wanted to yell out, “Hey, I just bought you an iPod touch for Mother’s Day!”
And as soon as I bought it, Big Brother wanted to know what we were getting Mom-E for Mother’s Day. Knowing that he was a high-risk to blurt out the surprise to Mom-E, and knowing that he would
I showed it to him and told him we bought Mom-E a “little laptop computer.” That way, even if he leaked the secret, the actual item might still be a surprise for Mom-E. I even showed him the demo video on apple.com. (This planted the seed for his metamorphosis into IRON MAN, which is previewed in this video).
Amazingly, we made it the entire 10 days until Mother’s Day without letting the secret slip, although Big Brother did ask me from time to time about the “Laptop PUTER” (as he calls it.)
Well, the iPod Touch was a big hit with both Mom-E AND Big Brother.
You see, Big Brother also inherited the technophile gene.
And he’s 4, and it’s hard to share sometimes, especially when you’ve already seen how you can play cool games and watch your favorite videos on the Laptop Puter.
In other words, Big Brother pretty much thought the Laptop Puter was a present for HIM.
Needless to say, there was initially some yelling and some tantruming about the ownership and use of this device.
Fortunately, we set some ground rules regarding time-limited use of the Laptop Puter for Big Brother.
I’ve written about this before, but I’m amazed at the ability of young children to use modern technology. Big Brother, who is 4 (and illiterate), has no trouble navigating this hand-held device. He can turn it on, select a favorite game or movie, and get it up and running faster than you can say “Do you have to go potty?”
They say that immersion is the best way to learn a foreign language. I think the same thing goes for technology. If you grow up inundated with technology, you’re so much more “comfortable” using it, even if the device is something “new.” By contrast, I got my first non-Commodore computer when I was in high school. I’m sure the specs on the iPod Touch blow that computer away.
And while I want my children to spend plenty of time playing and running outside (not inside the house naked after bath time), I still want them to become “fluent” with this technology.
The Laptop Puter has also been a nice behavior modification tool.
“If you keep acting that way, then you won’t get to play with the Laptop Puter today.”
(I should make an App for that--a voice that says the above phrase.)
Even with these limitations, I think he’s still used it more than anyone else in the family.
I just got to play the car racing game for the first time on the airplane ride back from California.
I didn’t play but about 2 minutes when I heard, “Hey, Dad-E, I’ll trade ‘ya.”
Next thing I know, Big Brother’s playing the racing game on the Laptop Puter, and I’m holding a set of alphabet flash cards. Go figure.
Maybe we should get a Wii, which at least has multi-player capabilities.
Then again, maybe not for a little while.
I’ll have to ask Mrs. Claus.
Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Iron Men and Iron Momma
Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone! If you’re new to my husband’s blog or missed the P.S. in last week’s post, this is Busy-Mom-E, wife of Busy-Dad-E and mother of Big Brother and Little Brother. Thanks to dad-blogs.com for
To set the record straight, anything flattering Busy-Dad-E says about me is ABSOLUTELY TRUE. Anything less than flattering is NOTHING BUT A PACK OF LIES.
As a preface, some time ago I volunteered to fly solo to California with both boys to meet up with Busy-Dad-E at a conference. No, I was not drinking at the time. Yes, Dad-E must’ve slipped me a “WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?” pill prior to that decision.
And, if that wasn’t enough, after we’d booked the flights I realized the morning of my flight was my favorite race of the year (a 5-mile run where you get roses and chocolate at the finish line.) I mean, I’d probably run a race if you told me there MIGHT be chocolate at the finish line.
Given our recent experiences with airline travel, I was prepared for the worst.
As is often the case with children, they never fail to surprise us. Turns out, I got to travel with a RENOWNED SUPERHERO and his sidekick.
When I returned to my parent’s house from the race, Big Brother said, “Grampap-E and I watched Iron Man!”
My first thought was, “You watched WHAT (he’s only 4)?” My dad clarified that they only watched the scene where Iron Man put on his suit. “Okay, that is all right.” I figured.
In retrospect, I should’ve known right away that I was travelling with a super hero, because in contrast to Big Brother’s usual screaming fit about taking off his shoes, he was quite helpful getting through security.
Before the long flight to California, we got something to eat and sat down by our gate. I let both boys out of the double stroller.
Big Brother immediately began running in circles shouting, “I’m IRON MAN!!!” Little Brother thought this was GREAT, and started running after him. For quite a long time, they just chased each other in circles, laughing and giggling (Yay! Children chasing each other now = tired children later.)
I said, “Big Brother, please use your inside voice.” His reply was, “I’m not Big Brother, I’m IRON MAN!” (Apparently, Little Brother was also dubbed (Little) Iron Man. Dubbing consisted of having a Cars sticker on your shirt)
After we finished eating, I took the boys to the family bathroom to get everyone ready for the long flight. I told them we were also going to change into our jammies!
Big Brother said, “Are they going to be Iron Man jammies?” I said, “Well, all we have are Spiderman jammies so we will have to use our imagination.”
That seemed to work just fine. Big Brother said he was very happy to put on his “Iron Man suit.”
Finally, we started to board the airplane. Each time we passed an empty seat,
To my amazement, the rest of the flight was somewhat uneventful. Little Brother got tired at his usual bedtime and fell asleep in my lap. We were fortunate enough to be close enough to the potty that I could dash in to help Big Brother while Little Brother remained asleep in his seat. Big Brother, on the other hand, kept going strong until we landed.
I called Dad-E to tell him that we landed and that I couldn’t believe that Big Brother was still awake. After all, it was about 11:30pm our time. As soon as I hung up the phone, I turned my head and saw Big Brother asleep on the seat. Apparently this is Iron Man’s weakness: if you talk about his incredible endurance, he goes into an iron-hard sleep. It took a
Finally, we got off the plane. Both boys were VERY excited to finally see their Dad-E after four days away.
I was very excited to see him, albeit
We picked up our luggage and drove to the hotel.
I was relieved everything went so smoothly. I just wish that Iron Man was as helpful at finding (affordable) breakfast in a foreign city WHEN YOU’RE STARVING AND HYPOGLYCEMIC AND SO IRRITABLE YOU FEEL UTTERLY EVIL as he was at airplane travel. But that’s another story to be continued…
Have a good weekend,
Busy-Mom-E (aka Iron Momma)
Monday, May 18, 2009
Young Charlie Brown
One of Mom-E's favorite phrases when things go awry is the Charlie-Brownesque
"OH GOOD GRIEF!"
And when things go REALLY awry it comes out more like
"OH GOOD GRIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEF!"
Big Brother has not only picked up on this catch-phrase, but he's learned to use it appropriately.
Tonight we're all playing and laughing hysterically while swimming at the hotel pool, and Big Brother has to pee (frequent readers of the blog are utterly surprised at this occurrence :)
I take him to the potty, only to find out we need the key card to get in the locker room.
We also need the key card to get back into the pool area.
So there I stand, dripping wet, holding Big Brother, also dripping wet (only water), and we're stuck in the entry way.
"Dad-E, do you have a phone?" he asks.
"Nope. Sure don't." I reply, shrugging off temptation to either:
1. Go into a rant about "When I was your age, we didn't have cellphones..."
2. Stand somewhat dumbfounded at the logic skills of my techno-savvy 4 year-old.
"OH GOOD GRIEF!" he exclaims.
A pessimist already at the age of 4? I hope not.
Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E
"OH GOOD GRIEF!"
And when things go REALLY awry it comes out more like
"OH GOOD GRIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEF!"
Big Brother has not only picked up on this catch-phrase, but he's learned to use it appropriately.
Tonight we're all playing and laughing hysterically while swimming at the hotel pool, and Big Brother has to pee (frequent readers of the blog are utterly surprised at this occurrence :)
I take him to the potty, only to find out we need the key card to get in the locker room.
We also need the key card to get back into the pool area.
So there I stand, dripping wet, holding Big Brother, also dripping wet (only water), and we're stuck in the entry way.
"Dad-E, do you have a phone?" he asks.
"Nope. Sure don't." I reply, shrugging off temptation to either:
1. Go into a rant about "When I was your age, we didn't have cellphones..."
2. Stand somewhat dumbfounded at the logic skills of my techno-savvy 4 year-old.
"OH GOOD GRIEF!" he exclaims.
A pessimist already at the age of 4? I hope not.
Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E
Friday, March 20, 2009
BYOB
Thanks again to dad-blogs.com for hosting Fatherhood Friday, and thanks for visiting!
Sorry soccer fans, but if I posted about youth soccer today, it would probably earn an NC-17 rating, so I'd better pass.
Besides, this week, there's something special in the air!
That's right, we're going to tackle the topic of flying with kids!
If you've never heard about what this is like, that's because anyone who's ever flown with kids either:
1. Died of pure exhaustion and/or frustration (I'm writing this post on the ventilator).
2. Ended up in an insane asylum (still a possibility).
Busy-Mom-E had the opportunity to give a presentation at a conference this week, and we decided to bring the whole family for a mini-vacation, mixed with some work for her.
Let me take you through our itinerary on our travel day:
0000 We finish packing, loading the car (setting a world-record for earliest bedtime on a travel day).
0300 Big Brother awakens due to nocturnal incontinence (thank you, enuresis alarm!)
0305 Mom-E is doing one last load of laundry.
0310 Big Brother calls out, "Dad-E will you sleep with me?" (I stay with him for a few minutes, until he falls back asleep.)
0400 Alarm goes off (@#$! %^&! ^&*!) (also setting a world-record for earliest awakening on a travel day).
0515 The entire family is in the car ready to go (another world-record), and everyone is wide AWAKE! We're off!
0516 Both boys are STILL awake and eating breakfast.
0517 Busy-Dad-E starts nodding off at the wheel. (I've never felt so tired in my entire life.)
0625 We arrive at the airport (BOTH of them, because I had double-vision the entire way).
0640 Check-in/Security. We look like a circus with going through security with our double-wide stroller, diaper bag, laptop bag, Mom-E's bag, shoes, wallpaper, and kitchen sink. We need no less than 5 of those gray bins. Big Brother screams "I don't want to take my shoes off." "Neither do I, buddy, but we have to."
"Hey, can someone xray Little Brother's diaper, just in case he's eaten something metallic recently?"
0642 We put all of are stuff back on/together/etc. As this takes us at least 10 minutes, we cause a pile-up off all the bins going through xray. It looks like that episode of Saved by the Bell when they're making Screech's Secret Sauce and the assembly line backs up. PROPS RIGHT NOW TO ANY SINGLE PARENT WHO HAS GONE THROUGH SECURITY WITH MORE THAN ONE CHILD AND LIVED.
0700 Boarding. The gate agent asks us to "please hurry." "Thanks. We haven't been hurrying for the last 3 hours. I'll just fold up this double-wide stroller in one pocket, put both boys in the other pocket, and we'll waltz onto the plane."
0705 We walk on to the plane. All eyes in coach turn to us. My ESPN tells me that everyone is thinking "Oh $HYT, please don't let them have the seats near us." Yep, we're THAT family.
0715 We depart. Yay!
0845 We arrive at our connection. First flight goes relatively smoothly.
REMINDER THAT THE BOYS HAVE BEEN UP FOR 4 HOURS AT THIS POINT. Smoothness of first flight attributed to shock of being up that early.
0945 Lunch. That's right, lunch. Why not? We all ate 5 hours ago, and cereal and Pop Tarts don't hold you for that long. After all, we wouldn't want any hunger-related fussiness on a 2.5 hour flight, would we?
1015 Connecting flight pushes off. We taxi on the runway for at least 45 minutes. There is a back up of about 20 planes due to the downstream effects of a ground stop for fog earlier in the morning.
1100 Take-off! Both boys are still awake. LET THE FUN BEGIN!!
At this point, the boys have been up for 6.5 hours, plus they got up 2.5 hours early, which equals the equivalent of 9 hours without napping.
Big Brother cuddles in my lap and passes out, to our amazement. I thought for sure he'd have to go potty at least once during taxi, further delaying the flight. I guess the 97 times we took him potty during our layover helped.
Little Brother, on the other hand, does not.
He wants to take a nap, but only after snuggling with his favorite blankie, his "baby."
You mean, Busy-Dad-E, that amidst all of the chaos of getting ready and the 3.5 hours of sleep, you and Mom-E decided to pack the boys' blankets in the checked luggage, rather than the carry-on?
Apparently we did.
Apparently we did wrong. This is about to hurt.
And it did.
Little Brother, a quiet angel during taxi, starts screaming. He screams on and off for a good 90 minutes. He wants to cuddle with his blankie, and we don't have one.
That's okay, we ring our call light. "Yes, could we please get a blanket for him before somebody comes back here and starts beating on us?"
The flight attendant scours the plane, and returns empty-handed. "Sorry, we don't have blankets." "But you're an airplane. That's like McDonald's saying they don't have Happy Meals."
NOTE TO SELF: DELTA IS BLANKETLESS.
We try everything to calm Little Brother down. Standing. Sitting. Making silly faces. TIckling. Singing. Playing with toys. Mom-E's sweater (mama, you look GOOD in a tank top). Diaper changing. Taking Big Brother away to go potty (twice). Eating. Drinking. COOKIES! (Nope, not even cookies.)
Even Delta's pillow--er, I mean burlap bag filled with sawdust--could calm him down. Nothing would work, except for the blankie we didn't have. This had nothing to do with his ears being congested.
Whether real (probably) or imagined, Mom-E and I feel like everyone on the plane has been staring at us simultaneously for the last 90 minutes, the contempt pouring from their eyes like a white-hot laser beam.
Every second feels like an eternity. 5400 eternities to be exact.
There is no escape. We're sitting in the very last row and can't even turn around and pretend not to notice.
Thoughts of "you were a baby once, too, offer little comfort."
The flight attendants tried to help, but no avail.
One asks if we need a pacifier. NO WAY! WEANING HIM OFF OF THE BINKIE ONCE WAS ENOUGH.
Another gets in his face and asks him "What's your name? Do you like SpongeBob?" Two-words: STRANGER ANXIETY. This only elicits more screaming.
The overhead voice comes on, "Ladies and gentleman, we're beginning our initial descent into..." (the ground? Please, anything to stop the screaming.)
Like magic, Little Brother finally gives up and falls asleep in my arms. (Murphy's Law)
1400 We de-plane, battle-weary and exhausted. Little Brother wakes up. (Murphy's Law)
Can we just take a nap in the terminal? That's better than thinking about the multitude of steps to follow: baggage claim, shuttle, hotel check-in, unpacking. My whole body is going to explode.
And so, kids, what did we learn today about flying with children.
1. BYOB: Bring Your Own Blankets.
2. Drive.
And remember, this was just the outbound flight!
We'll save the return flight adventure for next Friday!
And, because the world has a great sense of irony, while you're reading that post next Friday, we'll be flying...AGAIN! No joke, and this flight will be even LONGER.
Note to self to bring blankets IN carry-on luggage.
Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E
Monday, March 16, 2009
Improvisation
Sometimes (this week in particular) I think fatherhood is God's way of telling me I missed my calling in life and should've been a stand-up comedian.
The ability to improvise, to be able to rapidly change the plan and "make-up stuff on the spot", is a CRITICAL skill for parents and stand-ups alike.
The past 3 days have reminded me of this fact, and how sometimes I improvise well, and other times not so well--all within the same day (or hour, or 5 minutes).
I'm writing this post from our hotel room. Busy-Mom-E is giving a presentation at a conference, and we decided to bring the entire family. I was able to arrange a few days off from work, and it's nice to have some extra time to spend with the boys (and Mom-E).
Internet access is $10 per day (plus tax)--apparently the hotel doesn't cost enough per night--so this post has to count for both Monday and Wednesday of this week. I'll be back for Fatherhood Friday.
I had originally intended to start the "Big Brother Explains" series this week, but since I don't have all the pictures together for that post--and as the title of this post alludes--I'm improvising here.
The trip from home to the conference warrants it's own post, and I will say no more until Friday.
And so, below is a smattering of the attempts of Busy-Mom-E and I at improv over the last 72 hours or so:
1. GETTING KIDS TO EAT. I've outlined before the picky eating exploits of both boys. This trip has brought out the WORST eating habits in both boys. They've been subsisting entirely on milk, pop tarts, granola bars, crackers/goldfish, and smoothies. To get anything else in their bellies would require tools and/or chemical restraint. Even usual cornerstones of their diet--yogurt, pudding, fruit, and applesauce--have suddenly become repulsive.
You can imagine how "pleasant" the boys are on the above diet, mostly because they're (relatively) hungry. We finally got Big Brother to eat some pudding and mandarin oranges tonight before bed, following a major meltdown, but it's still touch-and-go. Hopefully no heads will start spinning around.
2. WATCHING TV. We don't let the boys, especially Little Brother, watch much tv. But Big Brother has come to associate staying in a hotel with getting to watch some extra tv (sometimes it's just necessary when you're on the road). We enter the room, and he says "I want to watch SpongeBob." The only problem is that the hotel doesn't have Nickelodeon. What makes it worse is that the advent of "tv on-demand" makes it even harder for Big Brother to grasp why I can't just press a button and make SpongeBob appear.
At least the hotel has the Disney channel, but the inability to make Handy Manny appear on-demand is still a source of frustration for Big Brother. And so, we resorted to watching the Disney feature film "Ice Princess." Twice. Okay, it's not Oscar-worthy, but the theme was good. (I'll be working on my essay on character development in the film when I get home.)
3. GETTING KIDS TO SLEEP. I've discussed before the challenges of staying in a hotel room as a family. In summary, staying in a hotel has a stimulant effect on kids that rivals drinking about a gallon of Coke or smoking some crack. The recent switch to Daylight savings time, coupled with the 1-hour time change during this trip (not to mention the restricted diet), has put sleep at a premium. And that goes for nap time, too.
We'd fallen asleep for a few hours tonight before I woke up to write this post. I was in one bed keeping Big Brother company. Busy-Mom-E woke up to find Little Brother next to her in the other bed and has NO MEMORY of how he got there. I certainly don't remember him fussing, or anyone getting up. Maybe the hotel room brings out his super powers to long jump from his crib to our bed?
4. "SUNSCREEN". I somehow managed to leave without packing a hat. This is a problem because we're someplace sunny and warm, and both boys had more hair at birth compared to what presently adorns my scalp. On the way to the park yesterday, I decided I'd better buy a hat, which provides the spf 100 that I desperately need. Of course, almost all of the stores were still closed. Dollar General was open, but they don't take Master Card, and Busy-Mom-E had the only non-expired Visa. That left me with $7 cash to buy a hat (note to self to remember to visit the ATM prior to travel).
And so, I ended up with a beautiful hat with the logo of a major beer company (and with a "pre-worn" bill for that authentic look), the only one in the store under $7. This is particularly funny because:
4a. I don't drink beer. (But I do need a glass of vino right about now.)
4b. I'm about to take my kids to the park, and the hat makes me look particularly qualified to do so, not to mention is great advertising for all of the kids there. "And how old is your son? Does he drink the same kind of beer that is on my hat?"
5. TRANSPORTATION. We opted not to rent a car for this trip, which is fine because there's plenty to do in the downtown area of this city, plus a pool at the hotel. We brought our stroller with us, and walking around has been good exercise. The only problem is that we use a "double-wide" stroller, with the two seats side-by-side. Although we like it (it folds up to about the same size as a regular stroller, we can slap either kid on the head easily if they misbehave (just kidding), and the boys like to ride together (for the most part)), the world was NOT designed with this type of stroller in mind. We often find that we can barely squeeze through most doors, after bumping into them at least 10 times. The boys have both learned to keep all appendages inside the stroller, lest they get sheared off. Once inside, the spacing of aisles/tables in most stores and restaurants is so narrow that navigating the stroller is like a manuverability/obstacle course. But we still manage to improvise
Alright, better get back to sleep, lest I have to improvise on being awake tomorrow.
See you on Friday (please pray that we all get home in one piece),
Busy-Dad-E
The ability to improvise, to be able to rapidly change the plan and "make-up stuff on the spot", is a CRITICAL skill for parents and stand-ups alike.
The past 3 days have reminded me of this fact, and how sometimes I improvise well, and other times not so well--all within the same day (or hour, or 5 minutes).
I'm writing this post from our hotel room. Busy-Mom-E is giving a presentation at a conference, and we decided to bring the entire family. I was able to arrange a few days off from work, and it's nice to have some extra time to spend with the boys (and Mom-E).
Internet access is $10 per day (plus tax)--apparently the hotel doesn't cost enough per night--so this post has to count for both Monday and Wednesday of this week. I'll be back for Fatherhood Friday.
I had originally intended to start the "Big Brother Explains" series this week, but since I don't have all the pictures together for that post--and as the title of this post alludes--I'm improvising here.
The trip from home to the conference warrants it's own post, and I will say no more until Friday.
And so, below is a smattering of the attempts of Busy-Mom-E and I at improv over the last 72 hours or so:
1. GETTING KIDS TO EAT. I've outlined before the picky eating exploits of both boys. This trip has brought out the WORST eating habits in both boys. They've been subsisting entirely on milk, pop tarts, granola bars, crackers/goldfish, and smoothies. To get anything else in their bellies would require tools and/or chemical restraint. Even usual cornerstones of their diet--yogurt, pudding, fruit, and applesauce--have suddenly become repulsive.
You can imagine how "pleasant" the boys are on the above diet, mostly because they're (relatively) hungry. We finally got Big Brother to eat some pudding and mandarin oranges tonight before bed, following a major meltdown, but it's still touch-and-go. Hopefully no heads will start spinning around.
2. WATCHING TV. We don't let the boys, especially Little Brother, watch much tv. But Big Brother has come to associate staying in a hotel with getting to watch some extra tv (sometimes it's just necessary when you're on the road). We enter the room, and he says "I want to watch SpongeBob." The only problem is that the hotel doesn't have Nickelodeon. What makes it worse is that the advent of "tv on-demand" makes it even harder for Big Brother to grasp why I can't just press a button and make SpongeBob appear.
At least the hotel has the Disney channel, but the inability to make Handy Manny appear on-demand is still a source of frustration for Big Brother. And so, we resorted to watching the Disney feature film "Ice Princess." Twice. Okay, it's not Oscar-worthy, but the theme was good. (I'll be working on my essay on character development in the film when I get home.)
3. GETTING KIDS TO SLEEP. I've discussed before the challenges of staying in a hotel room as a family. In summary, staying in a hotel has a stimulant effect on kids that rivals drinking about a gallon of Coke or smoking some crack. The recent switch to Daylight savings time, coupled with the 1-hour time change during this trip (not to mention the restricted diet), has put sleep at a premium. And that goes for nap time, too.
We'd fallen asleep for a few hours tonight before I woke up to write this post. I was in one bed keeping Big Brother company. Busy-Mom-E woke up to find Little Brother next to her in the other bed and has NO MEMORY of how he got there. I certainly don't remember him fussing, or anyone getting up. Maybe the hotel room brings out his super powers to long jump from his crib to our bed?
4. "SUNSCREEN". I somehow managed to leave without packing a hat. This is a problem because we're someplace sunny and warm, and both boys had more hair at birth compared to what presently adorns my scalp. On the way to the park yesterday, I decided I'd better buy a hat, which provides the spf 100 that I desperately need. Of course, almost all of the stores were still closed. Dollar General was open, but they don't take Master Card, and Busy-Mom-E had the only non-expired Visa. That left me with $7 cash to buy a hat (note to self to remember to visit the ATM prior to travel).
And so, I ended up with a beautiful hat with the logo of a major beer company (and with a "pre-worn" bill for that authentic look), the only one in the store under $7. This is particularly funny because:
4a. I don't drink beer. (But I do need a glass of vino right about now.)
4b. I'm about to take my kids to the park, and the hat makes me look particularly qualified to do so, not to mention is great advertising for all of the kids there. "And how old is your son? Does he drink the same kind of beer that is on my hat?"
5. TRANSPORTATION. We opted not to rent a car for this trip, which is fine because there's plenty to do in the downtown area of this city, plus a pool at the hotel. We brought our stroller with us, and walking around has been good exercise. The only problem is that we use a "double-wide" stroller, with the two seats side-by-side. Although we like it (it folds up to about the same size as a regular stroller, we can slap either kid on the head easily if they misbehave (just kidding), and the boys like to ride together (for the most part)), the world was NOT designed with this type of stroller in mind. We often find that we can barely squeeze through most doors, after bumping into them at least 10 times. The boys have both learned to keep all appendages inside the stroller, lest they get sheared off. Once inside, the spacing of aisles/tables in most stores and restaurants is so narrow that navigating the stroller is like a manuverability/obstacle course. But we still manage to improvise
Alright, better get back to sleep, lest I have to improvise on being awake tomorrow.
See you on Friday (please pray that we all get home in one piece),
Busy-Dad-E
Monday, February 16, 2009
Hotel Nights
My apologies to those of you who checked the blog on Friday (or over the weekend) and did not find a new post. I was away at a work-related meeting, and the wireless internet at the hotel was being oppositional. The entire family came with me, and everyone was either sick or tired when we got back, thereby deferring any new posts until today.
That said, our time away gave inspiration for a new commentary. I've discussed before all of the fun of getting ready in the morning for activities with young children, including getting ready for church, but we shouldn't neglect all of the fun at night that PRECEDES getting ready.
Q: What do you get when lock two parents, a preschooler, and a toddler into one (albeit) large room at night?
A: Chaos and insomnia, of course.
The boys travelled well in the car, both falling asleep. Of course, the moment we checked in to the hotel, both boys were WIDE awake, despite it being 1-2 hours past their usual bedtimes. The boys LOVE being in a hotel, the problem is they don't love SLEEPING in a hotel.
Big Brother, slightly delirious from fatigue, starts running around the room the moment we enter with an empty water bottle yelling "Bottle! Bottle!"
Not to be outdone, Little Brother becomes completely enamoured with the travel-sized bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and mouthwash in the bathroom. He liked them so much that I think we could probably have given away all of his "regular toys." I mean, he SCREAMED and CRIED if you tried to take them away. And so, if you're looking for a Christmas or birthday gift for the young child in your life, I suggest a supply of these travel-size items in a variety of colors. They make for endless hours of entertainment, and are even better to play with than the empty boxes regular toys come in.
You can only imagine the submission holds that was required to get the boys to fall asleep. We usually get a room with two double beds, plus a crib for Little Brother. At home, the boys are champ sleepers. They both can be put to bed, and fall asleep on their own. Put us all in the same room and all of that goes out the window. Little Brother sees everyone else having fun, so he prefers to stand in his crib cheering "Hey! Hey! (giggle, giggle)." Big Brother puts up a similar front of resistance.
Midnight. Finally, the boys are both asleep. Mom-E falls asleep as I put the finishing touches on my presentation. About two hours later, Big Brother has wet, I mean FLOODED, the bed. We change him and all of the linens we can. And people worry about hotel beds being dirty?
Two hours after that, Big Brother wakes up again, this time to spit-up. Poor guy. Too much excitement? Ran around the hotel so much that he shook himself up like a can of Coke? Spit up and pj's are cleaned, and he's back to bed.
By now it's around 4 am. The alarm at 6am seems way too close. Superman, can you fly around the Earth fast enough to turn back the clock and give me a few extra hours of sleep.
5:30 am. Little Brother wakes up. And he is UP. The odds of winning the lottery. are better than the chances of him going back to bed. His diaper now changed, he's ready for milk. Apparently, his romp around the room with the "hotel bottles" accelerated the metabolism of his milk/dinner. Thank goodness we have a little extra milk in the cooler, which eases the screaming.
I'm sure our "neighbors" love us right about now. It's just like when you're on an airplane and you see the mother with a screaming child walking towards you and you're thinking "please, not me." I'm sure our family has elicited that reaction a few times.
6 am. My alarm clock goes off. The phone rings with the "back-up" wake-up call from the front desk. "Good thing for both of those or I might've overslept," I think to myself sarcastically.
Did I mention that before Big Brother is even awake, Little Brother has already spilled milk into Big Brother's open suitcase and over all of his clothes?
You get the idea.
Now that Mom-E and I are "wide awake", time to start the routine of getting ready.
Let me tell you, I was a ball of energy for this meeting (but still wouldn't have it any other way--to have my family there with me).
Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E
P.S. Belated Happy Valentine's Day. Busy-Mom-E got me a remote-controlled car! (Big Brother got a remote-controlled car for his birthday, and informed us that I needed one too so that we could "race together," and Mom-E obliged. How sweet.) What I won't admit to *ahem* (clearing throat) *ahem* is that I would've been excited about the RC car even in the absence of Big Brother's request. They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. This is partially true (as Busy-Mom-E's sous-chef, I'll sing the praises of her culinary abilities, as well as her ability to reform picky eaters), but the way also goes through children's toys. Let's face it, the chance to play with toys and relive part of childhood is one of the big perks of fatherhood. I, for one, don't play with my boys' toys after they go to bed, no, never *ahem* *ahem* (fingers crossed behind back while knocking on wood). Now, how to go about getting a Wii for Father's day?
That said, our time away gave inspiration for a new commentary. I've discussed before all of the fun of getting ready in the morning for activities with young children, including getting ready for church, but we shouldn't neglect all of the fun at night that PRECEDES getting ready.
Q: What do you get when lock two parents, a preschooler, and a toddler into one (albeit) large room at night?
A: Chaos and insomnia, of course.
The boys travelled well in the car, both falling asleep. Of course, the moment we checked in to the hotel, both boys were WIDE awake, despite it being 1-2 hours past their usual bedtimes. The boys LOVE being in a hotel, the problem is they don't love SLEEPING in a hotel.
Big Brother, slightly delirious from fatigue, starts running around the room the moment we enter with an empty water bottle yelling "Bottle! Bottle!"
Not to be outdone, Little Brother becomes completely enamoured with the travel-sized bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and mouthwash in the bathroom. He liked them so much that I think we could probably have given away all of his "regular toys." I mean, he SCREAMED and CRIED if you tried to take them away. And so, if you're looking for a Christmas or birthday gift for the young child in your life, I suggest a supply of these travel-size items in a variety of colors. They make for endless hours of entertainment, and are even better to play with than the empty boxes regular toys come in.
You can only imagine the submission holds that was required to get the boys to fall asleep. We usually get a room with two double beds, plus a crib for Little Brother. At home, the boys are champ sleepers. They both can be put to bed, and fall asleep on their own. Put us all in the same room and all of that goes out the window. Little Brother sees everyone else having fun, so he prefers to stand in his crib cheering "Hey! Hey! (giggle, giggle)." Big Brother puts up a similar front of resistance.
Midnight. Finally, the boys are both asleep. Mom-E falls asleep as I put the finishing touches on my presentation. About two hours later, Big Brother has wet, I mean FLOODED, the bed. We change him and all of the linens we can. And people worry about hotel beds being dirty?
Two hours after that, Big Brother wakes up again, this time to spit-up. Poor guy. Too much excitement? Ran around the hotel so much that he shook himself up like a can of Coke? Spit up and pj's are cleaned, and he's back to bed.
By now it's around 4 am. The alarm at 6am seems way too close. Superman, can you fly around the Earth fast enough to turn back the clock and give me a few extra hours of sleep.
5:30 am. Little Brother wakes up. And he is UP. The odds of winning the lottery. are better than the chances of him going back to bed. His diaper now changed, he's ready for milk. Apparently, his romp around the room with the "hotel bottles" accelerated the metabolism of his milk/dinner. Thank goodness we have a little extra milk in the cooler, which eases the screaming.
I'm sure our "neighbors" love us right about now. It's just like when you're on an airplane and you see the mother with a screaming child walking towards you and you're thinking "please, not me." I'm sure our family has elicited that reaction a few times.
6 am. My alarm clock goes off. The phone rings with the "back-up" wake-up call from the front desk. "Good thing for both of those or I might've overslept," I think to myself sarcastically.
Did I mention that before Big Brother is even awake, Little Brother has already spilled milk into Big Brother's open suitcase and over all of his clothes?
You get the idea.
Now that Mom-E and I are "wide awake", time to start the routine of getting ready.
Let me tell you, I was a ball of energy for this meeting (but still wouldn't have it any other way--to have my family there with me).
Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E
P.S. Belated Happy Valentine's Day. Busy-Mom-E got me a remote-controlled car! (Big Brother got a remote-controlled car for his birthday, and informed us that I needed one too so that we could "race together," and Mom-E obliged. How sweet.) What I won't admit to *ahem* (clearing throat) *ahem* is that I would've been excited about the RC car even in the absence of Big Brother's request. They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. This is partially true (as Busy-Mom-E's sous-chef, I'll sing the praises of her culinary abilities, as well as her ability to reform picky eaters), but the way also goes through children's toys. Let's face it, the chance to play with toys and relive part of childhood is one of the big perks of fatherhood. I, for one, don't play with my boys' toys after they go to bed, no, never *ahem* *ahem* (fingers crossed behind back while knocking on wood). Now, how to go about getting a Wii for Father's day?
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