The Eternal Quest Continues

This is the story of the time my youngest son tried to help me make dinner and my eternal quest to not curse in front of the children.

My youngest is a giant among the two and a half year old crowd, but even still he is just shorter than the kitchen counter.  He looooooves the kitchen counter.  The counter holds food both salty and sweet, snackable and meal type alike.  He wanted to see what sort of culinary joy I was a bringing him.  He wanted to see it right. friggin. now.

So he got a stool.  A tiny little stepping stool we picked up at Ikea years ago.  It and I have never had a problem before.

The kid hauls it from the opposite side of the house to the kitchen, pushes me out of the way of the counter and drops it. Continue reading

Sandwiches

“Who wants a turkey sandwich!” Dad shouted with enthusiasm, trying to make lunch an ‘event’ this time around.

“I do!” the children shouted back excitedly.

“Who wants mayo? Pickles? Lettuce? Mustard? Tomato?” Dad fired off options in rapid order.

“All of it! Yeah! Woohoo!” the oldest child screamed, cheering. The youngest echoed his brother’s call.

“You guys got it,” Dad said assembling the sandwiches.  “And they’re ready!” Dad put plates before the kids and lunch was on.

“Dad, I don’t want this,” the oldest said, looking over the plate.  The youngest followed.

“You’re both difficult, you know that?” Dad said.

Reflection

“He’s just so obnoxious,” Lawson said, from behind his hands.

“I understand, but you have to be the bigger person here. Set a good example,” Cady said. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom, where Lawson sat on the bed and continued refusing to leave.

“That thing he did at lunch? Ugh! It’s like he knows each and every button to press,” Lawon lamented.

“Yeah, he’s a nightmare. But he’s your five year old son. You can make him a better person,” Cady said, smiling.

“That argument again? It hasn’t been working so far,” Lawson said, leaving the room.

So 90s

Dinner is always a loud experience.  Children are too tired to sit still, days have to be discussed; food is very much a secondary feature of the event.  My kids are very good at talking to excess at any time of day, but at dinner my wife and I get a pretty nice indicator of new terms and phrases the wee ones picked up through their daily adventures.  One such phrase learned by the now six year old was, “is this from the ’90s?” Continue reading

Common Conversations with My Toddler

“Where’d you find a whistle, big guy?”

Whistle whistle whistle

“Hey, bud, can you put the whistle d-”

Whistle whistle whistle whistle whistle whistle

“If that came from day care we’re sending some where else.”

Whistle whistle whistle whistle whistle

“Oh my gosh. Please put that down.”

Whistle.

“I’m going to sit on the porch for a while.”

Whistle.

My Favorite Person

Many years ago I stood by my wife as we met our oldest son for the first time.  We’re about to celebrate that big guy’s birthday and the joy he brings into our lives (a solid 82% of the time), but every year I’m reminded of seeing my wife become my absolute favorite person again and again.

She’s been my favorite person since we were 18 years old.  She studied, read her text books, got involved in school.  I played GoldenEye and wrote papers at 2am.  She worked 12 hour days teaching while I sat in the basement and reset passwords.  She is strong, motivated and cares deeply about whatever she touches.  It’s admirable and being in proximity of her makes others want to try harder, do better, learn more and act fast.  Continue reading

Getting Ready

“Clothes, shoes, coats, bags. Let’s get going, gang!” Tyson Smith had said this sentence time and time again.  “You have five minutes.”

Two children, too young to really understand what ‘time management’ meant, ran about the house doing anything other than listen to their father.  Tyson was unsure if the children were purposely ignoring him, or rather so entrenched in their current game they were incapable of hearing him.

“Four minutes,” Tyson said. His voice growing louder, more impatient.

“Dad, I need help finding my bag,” the oldest child asked.

“Okay. Where was it last?” Tyson asked.

A seven minute story followed. They were no closer to finding the bag.

“Dad, need help with my bag,” said the youngest.

Four minutes passed before Tyson realized the young one, still new to the language, was trying to mimic the older sibling.

“Dad! I can’t get my shoe on,” the oldest shouted.

Tyson had been through this before as well.  It was never easier.

“Okay, everyone in the car!” Tyson ordered.  Loud, curt, tired; half an hour had passed since the five minute warning.  Control was a feeling he no longer understood.

Ten minutes later, the car seats were buckled and Tyson readied to back the car out of the garage.

“Where are we going, dad?” the oldest asked.

Tyson huffed, rested his forehead on the steering wheel and muttered, “I don’t even remember.”

 

 

Thanks for reading!
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