Say a prayer

Even if you don't believe in anything other than the sun, moon and stars...say a prayer for this little guy. Ethan Powell.

Smush Eggs

Almost every morning, Jake and Brady ask for the same thing for breakfast...smush eggs. What everyone else in the world calls fried or "sunny side up", they call smush eggs. I'm reasonably sure it's because they like to smush up the yolk and eat it first. No matter how many times I try and tell them to just ask for fried eggs, they look at me like I'm a complete moron and say," You mean smush eggs Daddy?"

Yeah, that's exactly what I mean. Dorks.

Quotable

Heard from Jake's mouth directed at his Mommy after he had finished his Dilly-bar at DQ last night;

"Can I try the rest of yours Mommy?"

Oh and "try the rest" he did. He turned a Dilly-bar into a Dilly-stick.

Classy move buddy. I learn something from you every day.

Attack of the Robots!

Kevin the Spider-Robot by Brady

Shrek the Robot by Jake

Chalk it up to bad luck

Well, we had our first injury on the field.

Jake tagged Brady in the grill with his baseball bat. It was all just a bad accident. Poor guy was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jake was freaking out, Brady was bleeding...and freaking out. Plus, we had a good friend over and his daughter started freaking out. So, that little game wrapped up pretty darn quickly.

We zoomed off to the ER and played the waiting game. Brady is a lot tougher than me and only cried when the pain got real bad. He even took a little nap. Then Ma and Poppy came up and sat with Jakey while Cindy and I took B back to get looked at. We waited some more, and some more...and then a cool doc came in and checked the B man out. Cindy and I both got ready for some screaming and crying, but then the strangest thing happened. Brady just laid back like nothing was going on. The doc checked the gash inside his lip, checked his teeth to make sure they were good and then, that was it. No stitches. Awesome. He even gave him a grape Popsicle. Tough guys like Popsicles.

So, for the next few days, Brady will be eating a lot of ice cream and other less flavorful stuff. He should be just fine. Cindy and I may need psychotherapy but, we'll be fine too. Oh and Jake..he's just relieved Brady is OK and that our stock of ice cream is about to triple.

PS. Thanks to Ma and Poppy for the post-ER wrap party at Dairy Queen. Dadgum good way to cap off a cruddy night. Thanks for being there.

"I wanna be Jake"

Last night, I was tuckin B into bed when he gave me a dose of cuteness.




"Daddy, I love Jake."
"I know Bubba, I love him too. What do you love about him?"
"I want to be Jake."
"OK, you want to be just like Jake?"
"No, I want to be him."
"That's so nice buddy."
"I want to take his face, and put it on my face, and be him."
"Oh, well why do you want to be him?"
"Cuz he's cute."
"Well, you're cute too bub."
"No, I'm silly. He's cute. I want to be cute."
"No, you're both cute and both silly. You're both silly-cute."

-Tickles and Giggles-

"Well, have a good night's sleep buddy, I love you."
"Love you too Daddy. See you in the morning."

Kindness Award

Way to go Jake. You were "a kind and helpful friend" at school yesterday so you got this cool certificate AND an even cooler certificate for free pizza. I would have a picture of it, but we cashed the sucker in last night for supper. It was for Eatza Pizza, which otherwise we would never go to, but found surprisingly good anyway. So, maybe it'll get thrown into the rotation every once in a while. All because you were so nice at school. Pretty cool pal.

Brady is "The Man"

Brady had his preschool screening today. Apparently he blew the doors off the place. Our little man is now officially a big dude. He'll be going to preschool next year. We haven't decided yet if Jake will still be there with him, but either way...it's just super cool.

We always thought he was a smart little fella, but I think we also forgot that he just turned 3. I know I expected him to do well, but the lady said he did exceptionally well. Which of course is a direct reflection on me, as I am one of the World's foremost sources of intelligenceresness. It's a word. A word I just made up. Smart people can do that.

Anywho, way to go B. You are my ray of sunshine kiddo. I'm so proud of you and I can't wait to see how well you do next year in school. Now, if we can just work on the whole addiction to all things wet, you'll be aces.

I love you pal.

Deep Dark Secret #2

It's that time again. Time to make my spouse uncomfortable and possibly alienate someone I love. Dah-Duh-Daaaahhh!

Deep Dark Secret #2

Ever since I saw the movie "Footloose" I have had a desire to get footloose with my bad self. I mean really, it doesn't get any more absurd than the premise of that movie, but something inside me longs to break into a dance routine in the middle of rural America. Break those chains that tie me down...by gettin down. Maybe it was the Kenny Loggins. It seems like he wrote the soundtrack to every over-the-top-silly movie in the 80's that I love. Movies, scenes, and songs that spoke to my soul.

Take the scene where they play chicken with tractors. I mean come on dude. He gets his shoelace stuck in the pedal? Everyone thinks he's the man, when really he is just the benefactor of being fashionably irresponsible. He couldn't jump off...priceless. Or when he teaches the overgrown farmboy to dance on the bleachers. Just, wow. What about the scene where he dances around the factory and suddenly gets a little gymnastics routine in...who knew? Then, ol' boy organizes an illegal prom, gets the girl, beats up her ex-boyfriend, and dances the night away. He sure showed that Bible thumpin' John Lithgow where to stick his "no dancin' in my town" rule. Showed us all.

Alas, I was born with a physique that better allows me to put a hurtin on someone, rather than put on a dance recital. As my wife can attest, I am neither light, nor light on my feet. But still...a man can dream. Of Kevin Bacon. What? Huh? Who?

So there you go dudes. More ammo.

The Natural

I swear I didn't teach him this. He learned it from watching "The Sandlot", before I could teach him. See, you CAN learn something useful from the TV.

Customer Disservice

Hello Gordon,


Thank you for shopping with 1-800-FLOWERS.COM.


We apologize that your order (deleted) was not delivered as you requested(Oh really). We have canceled your order, and issued a full credit of $70.54 back to your credit card(Super). The credit will appear on your credit card within 3-5 business days(How convenient). We look forward to serving your gifting needs in the future.(Not bloody likely)


If you have any other questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact us at the address listed below(Yeah, but there is only a 5% chance you will get a reply). You can also contact us at our customer satisfaction number, 1-800-468-1141(Again, the 5% rule applies).


Sincerely,(B to the S yall)


Toni Smith
Sales and Service Specialist
Custservice@1800flowers.com

Mommy had a bad day

So here is something to cheer her up.

Note to self

No more late afternoon naps for Brady. It's 11:19 PM and he's singing "I'm a believer" (the Shrek version) in his bed at the top of his lungs. Good thing Jake sleeps like a rock.

Valentine's Par-tay

Jake had his Valentine's party at preschool today. So, just like the party animals we are, me and B tagged along for the festivities. Mommy even got to come down when she had a break from her class. We had a great time and it was over with all too quickly. I love that place.

Oh and yeah...I made the frog. 3.5 seconds later, Jake and Brady dissected it. Sweet.

Another day on flower watch...

Thank you 1-800-FLOWERS. I really had nothing better to do today than to wait around on you to deliver Valentine's Day...again. It was fun calling your customer service number at 1-800-716-4851 and getting a recorded message telling me that your company was too busy to take my call so you were disconnecting the line. Even though I paid you $70 for flowers, FLOWERS!, that doesn't warrant a human being to talk to me. Cool.

You're on the list. The one that rhymes with hit and starts with an S. Big time.

also...From the Doodlepad

An original work by Brady entitled "The Hairy TV"

From the Doodlepad

An original by Jake entitled "The Ghost"

1-800-FLOWERS

Now, I'm not in the business of delivering flowers so I shouldn't be expected to deliver flowers on time at any time of the year, for any reason. However, they ARE in the business of delivering flowers on time, at any time of the year, for any reason. Well, I guess somebody didn't get the memo about Valentine's Day being kind of a busy day for flower sales and delivery.

I was gonna be Mr. Bigshot and get all due praise for such a show of affection for coming through with these beautiful tulips, delivered right to Cindy's classroom. I waited around all day for the call to come from my beautiful wife, all shocked and emotional about my surprise gift. And I waited. And waited. And then she came home without any flowers in hands. Son-of-a.......

So here's the thing. I understand it's a busy time of year for them. However, shouldn't they compensate for that like every other company does when they count on making their sales goals in just a few days a year? Arrrrggh!

Anywho, happy Valentine's Day baby. It's the thought that counts right? Love You.

Deep Dark Secrets

I'm gonna do something now that I've been thinking about doing for a long time. Every once in a while I'm going to write about things that I've never told many people about heck maybe nobody. That way the boys will be able to laugh at me as I laugh at them for the rest of the stuff on here.

Deep Dark Secret #1

Sometimes, when I am alone, I talk to myself with a British accent. Sometimes Australian, but more often British. Not talking so much as narrating my activity. I don't know why I do it, only that I've been doing it since I was a kid. I'm reasonably sure no one has ever heard me, but I'm not so sure that would stop me.

So there. You've got that on me.

You are not invited...

Yeah you. The blurry little creature in the middle of the picture. We don't want you here. There is no place in baseball for your kind. I didn't build it for you, and your little buddies to come explore. I don't mind if you go next door or even out into the vast desert around us, but you aren't welcome here. Maybe this will help. I have a little piece of paper in my truck that certifies me to do one thing. A license in fact. What one thing you ask? Kill you. I have a license to kill you. You and all your friends. Think about it.