Communication is Key

Mom-E and I have always tried to foster open lines of communication with the boys.

And they definitely talk to us (even if sometimes we wish they'd hold their tongues).

*Deep breaths. Count to 10. More deep breaths. Visualize relaxing peacefully at the beach with a margarita. In each hand. Visualize.*

Of course, we want to continue to encourage them to talk to us.

But sometimes we need less "yackin" and more "doin".

Because if left to their own devices, sometimes it takes 10 minutes just to pick out a pair of socks (and another 5 to start putting them on, only to decide that they hurt and a new pair of socks are needed. But not any of the socks that are in a drawer. No, the ones that require you to comb through an entire load of laundry in the dryer. You know, where sock #1 practically throws itself at you when you open the door, but sock #2 is the ABSOLUTE LAST thing you pull out of the dryer. All the while, your child is screaming the incantation, "Where are my socks! Did you get my socks yet?")

@#$%^&*!

But I digress.

*Visualize. Deep breaths. Visualize.*

And so, here's why it takes 10 minutes to pick out socks.

"Dad-E."

"Yes."

"Er, dad-e. Dad-E. DAD-E!"

"Yes, buddy."

"Dad-E. I was. Uh. Dad-E. I. I. I was."

"You were what?"

"Dad-E. Uh. Dad-E."

"Yes."

"Dad-E. I was. I was. I was wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Dad-E. HEY, STOP SAYING MY NAME! (to brothers)"

"Hey there. Whatcha need, buddy?"

"Dad-E. Dad-E. I. I was. I. I was."

"Yyyeeess."

"I was wondering. Dad-E. I. Dad-E. I was."

"Uh-huh?"

"I was wondering. STOP IT! STOP LAUGHING AT ME! STOP! AHHHHHHHH!"

"Boys, knock it off. Leave your brother alone."

"Whatcha asking, man?"

"Dad-E. I. I was. I was wondering. I was wondering. STOP IT!"

"Just say it, pal."

"I was wondering if you could get me some socks."

"You mean from the drawer that you're standing in front of right now."

"Yeah. My arms are tired."

"So are my ears."

"I think the ones I want are in the dryer."

@#$%^&*!

And now you know.

Have a good weekend,

Have a margarita, or two,

Busy-Dad-E

The Three Amigos

Sure, you're probably thinking this post is about Big Brother, Little Brother, and Bab-E Brother (or a quite funny, albeit slightly lesser-known film starring Steve Martin/Chevy Chase/Martin Short).

And while it very easily could be, today that's not the case.

No, I'm talking about Bab-E Brother's Three Amigos and their trusty steeds.

His Three Amigos are his 3 favorite stuffed animals - "B" (teddy bear), "Mr. Donkey" (who is actually a triceratops), and "Barney" (played by the purple dinosaur himself).

And by "steeds" I mean a damp bath towel and 2 slightly-used burp towels. (Barney gets the bath towel since he's the biggest.)

Bab-E Brother generally insists on carrying around this small horde of stuff.

And by "carrying around", I mean either Mom-E or I carry him while he tries to hold on to the mass of stuffed animals and towels.

It's quite the sight to behold, and like a true leader, Bab-E Brother leaves no stuffed animal or towel behind (at least not without a long, loud, crying/screaming fit).

He really looks after his 3 friends.

And by "looks after", I mean that sometimes he allows them to take turns flying like an airplane, and sometimes he covers them with their towels so that they can sleep while he eats, ...

And other times he jumps on top of them like a body slam off the top ropes by Jimmy "Superfly" Snooka.

Some of you may remember that not long ago there was much discord between these stuff animals.

But I'm pleased to update you that thanks to Bab-E Brother's diplomacy skills, that everyone is getting along well these days, even if they do throw a rockin' party every night in Bab-E Brother's crib.

Although I'm still waiting for them to start singing, "My Little Buttercup".

See you on Fatherhood Friday,

Busy-Dad-E

Garden: Day 0

So this year we planted our first raised garden in our "new" home.

Albeit a little amateurish, I built the garden frame myself (and managed to get a good smash on one of my fingers with a hammer).

Bab-E Brother "helped" me build the frame, and Little and Big Brother helped me fill it with topsoil.

We've started out with a 5ft x 8ft plot, and have planted corn, cucumbers, yellow squash, green bell peppers, green onions, chives, and carrots.

No doubt, the boys will wake up each morning and have to inspect the garden, only to ask repeatedly, "How long till it grows?"

We'll see how it goes. I'll be honest with you, I myself have "killed" a cactus plant (despite following the watering instructions), and Mom-E willingly admits to having two "black thumbs".

So we're not making any promises, but hopefully we'll get something edible out of it.

I'll post pictures from time to time to update you on the progress. (Hopefully the future pictures will look different than this one.

Have a good, green, week,
Busy-Dad-E

Garden: Day 0

Clinophobia

What, you may ask, is Clinophobia?

It's fear of beds.

And Mom-E and I are afraid (pun-intended) that Little Brother has it.

For some time now, for better or worse, we've let Little Brother sleep in Big Brother's room. They don't disturb each other, both seem to get good rest (without having to leave the lights on), and it beats uninterrupted screams from Little Brother that keep the entire household awake.

But the downside for Little Brother is that he's slept on Big Brother's floor.

Mom-E and I have tried to make things as comfortable as possible by creating a makeshift "bed" for him with as many thick blankets as possible.

So recently, we made a push to transition Little Brother back to his room.

On a positive note, he was actually receptive to the idea, and has slept in his room most nights out of the past week.

On a negative note, he's actually refused to sleep IN HIS OWN BED.

Yep, he forgoes his own bed in favor of a pile of blankets on the floor.

Apparently he prefers a REALLY SUPER FIRM "mattress".

Too funny.

But not.

Baby steps. Baby steps. Baby steps.

Well, at least some"body" is using the bed.

Have a good weekend,

Sleep well,

Busy-Dad-E

Mr. Little Brother's Wild Ride

Have you ever had a day...

Where you go with your Dad-E to pick up your Big Brother from Sunday School...

And have to go potty...really bad...

And make it to the potty just fine and in time...

But when you do "go", everything kinda goes in the wrong direction...

Soaking your underwear and pants...

And you want to go naked from the waist down...

But your Dad-E won't let you because you're in a building packed with adults and children...

So you pull up your cotton "swimming pool" and your Dad-E carries you...

And you pick up your Big Brother and walk back to the car...

Only to find that there aren't any dry clothes in your backpack...

So you actually do go naked from the waist down...

And when your Dad-E buckles you into your car seat he tries to cover your bottom with your Bab-E Brother's burp towel...

But that towel lasts for only about 5 seconds before you remove it...

And when you finally get home you want to help...

But your Dad-E asks you not to run down the driveway half-naked to get the newspaper...

And then the next day you find out from Mom-E that there really WERE clothes in the backpack, and you had looked at the wrong pocket...

Just part of your average day around here.

Bring an extra set of dry clothes (and know where they're kept),

Busy-Dad-E

Night Prayer or Fetal Position?

So the other night I went into Big Brother's room to find him in this position.

Apparently he made this "pit stop" on the way back from the bathroom to his bed (way to go Big Brother on waking up and going potty yourself).

We're not sure if he was praying or just passed out in a fetal position.

You decide.

Have a good week,

Busy-Dad-E

Bean Counter

So recently Big Brother has been obsessed with "accounting."

Probably two things have inspired his renewed interest in money: not long ago he got to pick out a toy with his Christmas money, and he's been doing a big unit on money at school.

He also found a stack of old play money that has been the focal point of his obsession.

The other night, I went to check on him, hearing a noise from his room at about 10pm. There he was, sitting up in bed, sorting stacks and stacks of play bills.

"Look, Dad-E, each of these stacks has 10,000 cents." (He's also obsessed with converting dollars to cents. "How many cents are in $5, $,10, $20, $50?")

"Look, Big Brother, it's 10PM. If you don't go to bed, you're going to be really, really pleasant tired when we wake you up for school in the morning."

(Note to self, it's probably a bad idea for Big Brother to eat cake and drink 4 ounces of Coke at Cub Scouts at 7:45pm.)

But even when he's well rested, Big Brother is still playing with his play money.

The other morning, I called Mom-E, and I heard her say, "Big Brother, the bus is going to be here in 5 minutes. Take off your Iran Man costume, put your socks and shoes on, finish your breakfast, and STOP PLAYING WITH THE MONEY!"

The other cute thing he's been doing is "paying" Mom-E and I for various stuff with his play money.

"Dad-E, how much for my chocky juice, cereal, and waffle?"

"Oh, about $6." (More counting and stacking.)

(In case you were wondering, lunch came to $8 and dinner $10.)

Mom-E apparently uses a different accounting system, because Big Brother paid her $200 for his after school snack!

Maybe we'll get lucky and when he gets his first job, he'll still want to pay us for stuff!

Have a good weekend,

Busy-Dad-E