Note To Self #5

Aluminum foil balloons make your daughter happy.

Habanero BBQ Almonds make your mouth happy.

An Habanero BBQ Almond thrown at an aluminum foil balloon will put a small hole in the balloon.

This will make your daughter cry.

Duct tape makes a nice patch.

Not nice enough to keep your daughter from crying.

Buy more Habanero BBQ Almonds.

Poems For Dad

I hate getting cards.  Birthday, Christmas, Father's Day, I don't care what the occasion is, don't send me one.  First of all, they're too expensive.  If you really want to spend five bucks on me, bring me a Chalupa Value Meal from Taco Bell.  Your card will be opened and checked for cash,  the text skimmed, and then the whole thing is going in the trash.  At least the Baja Chalupa and Fire Sauce will stay with me for a couple days.

And don't you dare send me a card with glitter on it.  If I wanted glitter all over me I'd hang out at my local "gentleman's" club.  (Not that I know where it is honey.) Finally, please, please do not send me some mushy card that's all touchy feely.  I'm a dude, I don't do feelings well and I definitely don't do poems.

 Music that nobody wants to hear.

If you do feel compelled to send a poem, be aware that poems for dad should either be in limerick form or standard meter.  I don't want any of that Shakespearean meter that no one can read or any of that Haiku crap.  The Japanese gave us Sudoku and Soy Sauce, they can keep their syllabiphillic poetry.  So before you send your dad a card with a nice poem, why not consider just giving him a phone call and saving your money. It's probably money he loaned you anyway.  Get a job.

2014-6-12

Caleb:  You taught Leah that the "High-Yah" sound is the most important tool of Kah-Rah-Tay.  You explained to her the difference between a Black Belt (Level I) and a Blacker Belt (Level II).  You ended by telling her to "Let your heart be your guide". 

Maybe it's time to scale back on Spongebob.

Leah:  You listened to Caleb---seriously, for like twenty minutes.  And, you asked questions.  If you ever want to extend the same courtesy to me it would be appreciated.

Elizabeth:  Tricycle playgroup at the park today.  You can finally pedal your trike by yourself.  Now, if you could only listen to me when I tell you to stop climbing up the slides.

If these were installed on slides, it could eliminate the problem altogether.

Early Bloomer

I love digging through the boy's backpack when he gets home from school.  I never know what I'm going to find.  Sometimes it's good grades and others it's artwork that only a mother could love.  Once in a while, it's a lunch box full of soggy sandwich bread and chocolate milk.  And then, on rare occasions, I get a note from a teacher that makes me laugh and makes me love the boy even more.

I've always thought of my son as a late bloomer.  He reached many developmental milestones later than normal and he still loves to watch cartoons.  I don't mean the awesome, ultra-violent super-hero cartoons either.  But, there is one area in which he has no problem--inviting girls over.  The only problem is that these girls aren't his age...they're his teachers.

 Four different teachers in as many years and he's invited them all over to the house.  At least he's being social.