Tag Archives: Big D

Fact and Opinion

1.  This is my second list post in a row.   Deal with it.

2.  I think this is the most honest assessment of where we are as a nation that I’ve read lately.  This is pretty good too.

3.  We found Big D’s paper that I referred to in a post a while back.

At the time, I was gonna say something really funny about it.  I don’t remember what that was anymore.

4.  Right now, I’m listening to this.

5.  This is officially the most inconsequential post ever.

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I totally outsmarted a second grader…Yay?

We have a nightly ritual around here at bedtime.  When I announce that it is time for bed, the two oldest kids run and hide.  Every night, Smella says, “You can’t catch me, Daddy!”  Then she runs into the laundry room and faces away from the doorway like that somehow makes her invisible.  The only exception to this is when I say something like “Hey Smella come here real quick” before she has a chance to run away.  She then comes over to see what I need and I scoop her up while declaring that, yes, I can in fact catch a three-year-old.

Big D, though, he’s wily.  He likes to run into the kitchen and try to get me to chase him around the table.  I usually have to resort to blocking the path around the table by pulling out chairs so he’ll have to move them out of the way, or at the very least, trip over them and require a trip to the emergency room.  Sometimes he just hides instead of making me do the table chase.  Last night, while I was putting the two little ones to sleep, he hid.  Let me correct that.  He didn’t just hide.  He hid well.  I walked around the house making a lot of noise trying to get him to giggle and give away his position.  Nothing.  Not a peep.

(WARNING:  This is the part where I come off as a true douchebag of a parent.  Again.) After making my first sweep of the house, I had a bright idea.  I would flush him out by scaring the shit out of him.  Brilliant!  I started going back through the house turning all the lights out as I went.  I heard a few muffled noises but I still couldn’t tell where they were coming from.  It was just a matter of time.  Finally, after I turned off the last light and stood waiting in the pitch black kitchen for about ten seconds, I heard him coming out.  He flew out of his room, flipping on the hall light as he ran to and swung open the front door, and looked out to see where I had gone.  Because that’s what I do.  I routinely forget to put him to bed and instead decide to turn out all the lights and go for a walk or something.

He was not amused.  In fact, he might have been on the verge of tears.  On the verge.  That’s not so bad, right?  I mean, he never shed an actual tear or anything.  The moral of the story is:  don’t hire me as a babysitter.  The other moral is:  it’s always better to risk physical injury to your child than to cause him emotional harm.

I’ll let you know how the trip to the ER goes tonight.

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WTF?

Me:  What are you doing?

Big D:  (Looking under the couch as if he’s hunting for a lost toy.)  Nothing.

Me:  Are you sure?  What are you doing?

Big D:  I guess you’re right.

Me:  What do you mean?  Right about what?

Big D:  Cats really do have nine lives.

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I want to ride my bicycle/I want to ride my bike

This year, the wife and her parents went in together on a bicycle for my birthday present.  Since then, I’ve ridden it about twice a month or maybe 8-10 times total.  After dinner tonight, Big D talked me into going riding with him again.

Not long after we set out, I realized my bike was making a little clicking noise but it didn’t seem like a big deal.  I thought maybe the gears were just acting up or something so I ignored it and we kept going.  We ended up at a park over by Big D’s school and we even found some trails that snaked alongside the railroad tracks which we had never noticed before.  After riding the trails for a while, we eventually started heading back home.

We were a little more than two miles from home when something (maybe the freehub?) broke on my bike.  Suddenly, the pedals didn’t work anymore.  They spun the chain but the wheel wasn’t being driven at all.  I tried messing with the rear derailleur but I only succeeded in getting my hands dirty.  Of course, Big D figured this was probably a good time to have a nice freakout session.  After calming and reassuring him, I decided that I would have to walk the rest of the way so I called the wife to let her know we would be a little late.

Let me just say that walking a bike two miles is a lot less fun than riding a bike two miles.  There were a couple of spots where I could sit on it and coast but you’d be surprised how quickly your momentum fizzles out when you have nothing but gravity working for you.  About halfway home, we saw one of Big D’s kindergarten classmates riding bikes with her mom.  I just smiled and kept walking, pretending that it’s perfectly normal to hop off your bike and push it occasionally.  After all, who needs all that monotonous pedalling?  And speed?

Of course, the worst part of the trip was the very last block.  I’m not sure why (I usually don’t give a shit about impressing people), but I couldn’t let the neighbors see me pushing my new bike.  So as we came around the corner heading to our house, I straddled the bike, furiously pushed off the curb several times, and actually managed to pick up a little speed.  Enough speed, in fact, that I coasted the rest of the way home; sitting on my bike, sweating profusely, waving at the neighbors, and grinning like an idiot.

Overall, I’d say things went pretty well.

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Fact and Opinion

  1. I can’t think of any food or recipe that isn’t enhanced by adding at least one of the two following ingredients:  ice cream and/or cheese.  Try it.  Seriously, I can’t think of any.  Let me know if you come up with one.  But if you ever find yourself in a situation where you encounter such a foodstuff, I advise you to run away from it immediately.  Because that’s just not right or natural.
  2. Speaking of ice cream, here’s a Helpful Husband Hint.  When given a choice between two different spoons for eating your ice cream, always go with the smaller of the two.  The little sampler spoons they have at Baskin Robbins are just about as good as it gets.  Small spoons make the ice cream last for a much longer time.  Or at least it SEEMS like it’s longer.  Like shaving your pubes.
  3. Councilman Doug is one of my personal heroes.  Okay, he’s a little pathetic at the moment.  But still.
  4. Big D, our seven-year-old, is a little freaky sometimes.  Tonight while we were playing outside, he started talking about his all-time favorite video game Need for Speed: Most Wanted.  He mentioned that he thought it would be great if it had road races that you could set up yourself.  He said if he could he would set up a race where it would start on the interstate at the third exit after the bridge.  After getting off two exits down, turn left and then you would go about half a mile and take another left.  After you go through the tunnel, it would go over the small hill and through the two big curves and then you would be at the bridge and…  “Is it a sprint?” I interrupted asked.  He looked at me like I was the Jolly Old King of Slobbering Idiotland, “No, it’s a circuit.”  He couldn’t believe that I wasn’t completely following along in my head with his little virtual map.  I’m really not exaggerating much here–in fact, I’m probably forgetting half the details of his race.  If he reads this tomorrow, he’ll totally call me out and remind me about all the turns I forgot.
  5. “I like my sugar with coffee and cream.”  Truer words were never spoken.

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A Seven-year-old’s Sense of Humor

This is a joke Big D told me tonight while we were playing Doodle Dice.  Ready?  It’s REALLY funny!  Here goes:

Knock knock…Who’s there?…A banana peel…A banana peel who?…A banana peel from England

Genius, pure genius.  No?  He laughed his ass off.  Yeah, I guess he scares us a little sometimes too.  I believe that’s what separates a seven-year-old’s sense of humor from a 32-year-old’s more sophisticated and refined tastes.  Luckily, we can still both agree on the fact that “Poop” is the best punchline ever for any joke ever.

Poop.

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