That About Sums It Up

It feels like they’re using a massager on the house!

– My son, L., Age 8, describing the work being done on the driveway.

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Probably, But I’ll Bet There Aren’t Many

Is there an impatience in the world greater than that of a child waiting for Grandma to visit?

I’m Calling This One A Win

“Looks like we’re going to be cooped up here again,” my son sighed this morning, and to be fair, it’s rained so much here over the last several days that I wouldn’t be terribly surprised to find out the house had grown gills, so I understood where he was coming from.

Even so, one of the continuing challenges of parenthood for me is not reacting poorly to “kid drama” like coming into the room and making bleak announcements like the one above, but this time I think I did okay.

“Another way to look at it is to view this as a chance to do anything we want to do inside the house,” I told my son.  “For instance, I imagined it’d be pretty hard to play a game of Yahtzee while on a walk outside.”

He agreed.  He didn’t want to play Yahtzee (which mildly disappointed me), but he agreed, and we both got on with our day.

Another Example Of The Importance Of Timing In Comedy

Since my son pointed out it’s been “a while” since I last devoted a post to him specifically, this one is for him.

I’m glad you enjoyed the “preceding” story, kiddo, but I’m even gladder that I woke up in a good mood so you preceding me all over the house this morning was funny to me as well and not just you.

And Not The Cheesy Fun Kind Either

As we approach the final stretch of 2nd grade, we can take some cold comfort in the fact that we’re fine grade-wise.  Academically, this past year looks amazing.

Emotionally, however . . . how do I put this?

This past year hasn’t been an emotional roller coaster; more like an emotional house of horrors.

We Could Use It

With a little luck, we’re on the final week of schoolwork needed for my son to put second grade behind him.

So wish us luck.

I’ll Probably Still Be At Least Humming It Tomorrow As Well

This morning:  Went over the Preamble to the Constitution with my son.

By afternoon:  Realized I had already sung the damn song easily a dozen times.

An Excerpt From Some Play With My Son

Mysterious Voice (My son):  Once again we need your help on an adventure.

Our “Not So Brave” Hero (Me):  Can’t you get somebody else to do it?

Mysterious Voice:  We wanted Superman, but he’s on another continent.

Our “Not So Brave” Hero:  I can wait.

Mysterious Voice:  No!

Our “Not So Brave” Hero:  Fiiiiiiiiine.

So I Think He Got It

Recently I used the phrase “chewing the scenery” within earshot of my son, but I had my doubts that he’d fully understood what I meant until a few days later I heard him say that someone was “chewing the scenery like a rancor chewing on the fourth wall.”

He Was Grinning When He Asked That Though, So MAYBE He Was Kidding And Actually Got The Point This Time

“We’ll get started in about twenty minutes,” I told my son this morning.  “Nineteen minutes, to be precise.”

“I thought you were done with being ‘precise,'” he replied.  “It’s kind of annoying.”

“The day I can say ‘about twenty minutes’ and you accept that as an answer is the day I’ll stop being so ‘precise,'” I told him.

“But is that eighteen minutes . . . or twenty-two . . . or seventeen . . . or what?” my son then wanted to know.