Saturday, January 27, 2007

Relegated To Towel Boy


The Champ has eliminated another chore of mine but I'm not sure if I am happy about it.

He has begun taking showers all by himself.

For the last two weeks, when asked if he wants a bath or a shower, he has chosen a shower. To me, this is much easier than giving him a bath. Who enjoys squatting over the tub for 15 minutes, pleading to keep the water in the tub while you try to wash their ears? But now I find myself missing the time with him in the tub. The little rubber duckies that he would squeeze sending water all over the walls. The boats he would try to capsize by creating waves that would at times send water all over the floor. Even the bath time crayons, that when done, left the tub looking like a New York city subway car. I will miss all those things but I think what I will miss most will be those few minutes after the bath, when I would take him out of the tub, sit him on my lap, wrap a towel around him and give him the biggest hug of the day.

Now all I have to worry about is whether or not he actually uses soap.

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Thursday, January 25, 2007

In Sickness And Ill-health

Well, it finally happened. Peanut gave the house her cold. Everybody is walking around with tissues sticking out of their noses and spittoons have been conveniently located around the house for all the junk we seem to be generating in our lungs.

It seems to have affected our computer as well. Monday, the modem died and not being the computer geek I wish I was, it has to sit until this weekend when my BIL can help me out. Luckily, I can quickly post something small from work during lunch. Hopefully, everyone will pull through, including my BIL.

I didn't realize how much I would miss porn, I mean blogging.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

My Own War On Terror

It has been a long, hard fought battle, but I think Mrs. Joe has given up on our own little war on terror. She’s cut and run. She has conceded to the insurgents.

She has stopped trying to keep Peanut & The Champ out of our bed at night.

The Champ is 5 so I thought he would be done with this by now. I was sadly mistaken. I mean we are talking “insurgency is in its final throes” mistaken. He is stealth and now crawls into our bed without my knowledge. He also knows to attack the right flank. That would be Mrs. Joe’s side, not mine.

Peanut is 19 months and obviously still in a crib. Her own little "Gitmo". And she wakes us up with about as much delicacy as an IED. Our counter-terrorism tactics seemed to have an effect at first. We had been trying to get her back to sleep without taking her out of her crib but she has proven that you cannot negotiate with the terrorists. Now Mrs. Joe is taking her into bed with us. “Once she falls asleep, I’ll put her back in her crib.” Unfortunately, Mrs. Joe is falling asleep first and Peanut is more than happy to hunker down with us in our warm little foxhole until morning.

Hopefully, I can convince Mrs. Joe that we need to work together in a united front against this lack-of-sleeper cell.

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Sunday, January 14, 2007

Sitting Around Telling War Stories


The Champ noticed a deck of playing cards on the table and asked if he could play with them. I said "Sure". He replied "Teach me a game, I don't know how to play any." I figured the easiest game to teach him was War. Actually, War was the only card game I could remember how to play so my decision was already made.

Well, War has reminded me how easy it can be sometimes to keep your kid happy. I think we have played War more times in the past week than I have in my entire life. And he is having the most fun, too. I let him decide who won each hand to keep that "educational" aspect going so it's a win-win for all. When I say "all" I include Mrs. Joe too. She's a little cautious of the card playing.

I'm sure like all things to a 5 year old, War will get boring and I'll have to teach him a new card game. Maybe Go Fish or Crazy 8's. I've checked with Mrs. Joe on the rules for those. We are set there.

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Tuesday, January 09, 2007

No Paternity Test Required

Mrs. Joe and I try to read to Peanut and The Champ every night before bedtime. Tonight was no different except for one thing. After watching Wheel of Fortune, we brushed their teeth and all settled onto The Champ's bed for a few stories. The Champ has been saying lately that he wants to read the stories. So wanting him to learn, we oblige. Well listening to a 5 year old try to read can take a while and apparently Peanut, being 19 months, doesn't have the patience. So as The Champ was slowly reading aloud, Peanut wet her index finger and stuck it right into his ear! We all burst into laughter. It was clear out of the blue. I can't remember the last time I did that to either of them so it amazed me as to what made her think of doing that.

Now I'm just hoping Peanut's first words aren't going to be "Pull my finger!"

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Friday, January 05, 2007

Cold Turkey Is For The Birds


Mrs. Joe is a casual smoker. I mean at the end of a long day, she casually walks outside and has a cigarette. She won't say why she is going outside, but it's understood. Maybe not saying the word "cigarette" makes it a little less embarrassing.

Anyway, for New Year's, she's trying to quit. Cold turkey. No slowdown. No patch. No gum. No hypnosis. Nothing. I'm very happy she is doing this but Peanut, The Champ and I are feeling it's effects. This is day 5 and her nicotine withdrawals are starting to make her edgy. Now I know this is for the best. And I will do everything I can to help her kick the habit. But it looks like rough times ahead.
I think I need a drink.

If anybody needs me I'll be out on the porch.

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Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Don't Cut The Cheese

It seems Peanut, our 19 month old, is becoming little miss independent these days. Although she's not talking, she's making her point clear with the finger pointing while giving you the "give me that or I'll keep you up all night" look. Tonight for dinner was no exception. After completing her pasta she made it clear she was still hungry. Mrs. Joe told me to get some sliced American cheese. I asked Peanut if she wanted some cheese and she nodded and pointed to the fridge. I got the cheese, took a slice from the wrapper, folded it in half and gave it to her. Well, those pieces hit the floor faster than you could say "How's 2:15 for your wake up call?"

Mrs. Joe, as she bent over to retrieve the pieces: "You can't fold the cheese into pieces. She wants the slice whole."

I guess I was glad the cheese was not cubed, or better yet balled. Those might still be rolling around the dining room floor. I then pulled another slice from the package and gave it to her whole. She ate the entire slice, along with two others, without incident.

Another occurrence where this Average Joe "cut the cheese" and it lead to some unhappy ladies.

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