Over protective?

Mama had to run some errands, so Papa got to hang out with his three little ladies.  Being the multi-tasker that I am, I decided to go ahead and make dinner at the same time.  I fired up the grill and had just put the pork burgers on when the dogs started barking incessantly.  I checked on the girls and found the twins entertaining Ruby, so I went around the house to see what was going on. 

We had a raccoon in the yard a few months ago, which, according to Brynne, I broke...with a pellet gun.  I had to make sure we didn't have anything else potentially dangerous.  I got to where the dogs were and scanned the yard.  Nothing.

Ralphie and I both use pellet guns to "break" things.

I turned to head back to the grill and something caught my eye.  It appeared to be a bird that had fallen out a tree.  I started walking towards it, and so did the dogs.  The "bird" then struck out at the dogs, and was batted back with an incredibly quick paw.

So much for the bird.  It was a four and a half foot rat snake, coiled up and not looking pleased.

I put the dogs in their pen, trotted over to the barn to retrieve a shovel, and came back to find the snake right where I left it.  Five seconds later there were two snakes.  One was about three inches long and the other was four and a quarter feet long.

Both were still moving, but since the smaller snake had once been the larger snakes head, neither were harmful any longer.  I scooped them up and went back to the grill. 

To answer the question everyone is thinking, no, our entrée did not change.

After flipping the burgers, I brought the girls outside to see the snake.  Immediately, and not at all surprising, they tried to touch it, which I discouraged.  The body was still trying to slither away, though it was wrapped up in a rake and couldn't go anywhere.  It had left the head to fend for itself on the shovel.  The snake's mouth would open wide, then close slowly, only to reopen again.  Hadley thought it was funny that

"The snake is trying to eat Mama's shovel!" 

After watching it for a few minutes, we went inside to finish supper preparations. 

Mama came home and walked to the front door.  The girls and I were just inside, awaiting her return for two reasons.  First, so we could eat dinner.  Second, to see how she would react to the snake.  To say that Mama was not a fan of snakes would be an understatement.  We wondered if she would scream.  We had actually discussed that very question and were eager to find the answer.

To her credit, she never screamed.  As she walked up the front walk she looked to her left, did a double take, then shot up the stairs to the front door.  There was a barely audible "hey...hey...there's a...hey", followed by Mama nearly putting her fist through the glass door several times.

I opened the door smiling and asked what was wrong.  She pointed toward the snake, and finally was able to utter the word "snake".

I really hope this is the sign for snake crossing and not an indicator of the curve of the road ahead.

Once I pointed out it had no head, and she got over the fact that it was still wriggling around, she calmed down.  Not really, she brought it down a tiny bit, but was still keyed up.

At dinner, the girls repeatedly asked:

"Mama, why did you bang on the door?  It was just a snake."  

When we were done eating, we were going to head over to the neighbor's house to visit.  As we got our shoes on, Brynne calmly stated:

"Mama, you can walk next to me and I'll hold your hand so you won't be startled if we see another snake."

So what do you think?  Is my Brynne over protective of her Mama?  Does this make her a helicopter child?

The art of negotiation

Brynne is a fantastic negotiator.  When I make an offer, she is quick to counter with her own terms.  In working through the actual negotiation she is concise and clear with what she wants.

I don't make her wear a costume, but I have offered her door #2.

Unfortunately for her, she doesn't understand the basic principle.  Follow along here and see if you can find where she goes wrong.  Brynne in red, me in black.

Please finish your chicken.

I don't want to eat chicken, I just want a cookie.

If you eat two more pieces of chicken, then you can have your cookie.

No.  Three more pieces.  (She also holds up three fingers, just to make sure I see her terms).

You drive a hard bargain, but I agree to your demands.  If you eat three more pieces of chicken you can have a cookie.

Okay. 

She then eats her three bites of chicken and gets a cookie. 

For those of you not seeing what went wrong in her process, I'll shed a little light on the art of the negotiation.  Typically, when negotiating, the goal is to give up less in order to get what you want, or at the very least, get more for the same amount you're offering.

She could've asked for one bite of chicken to result in the receipt of a cookie.  Conversely, she could've asked for two cookies in exchange for two bites of chicken.

For now, I'll let her negotiate this way, but as soon as she starts dealing with a third party I'll step in and give her a lesson or two.

More words and phrases from toddlers

I love hearing the new words and phrases my girls come up with.  Since I love it, I know all of you will too!  Therefore, I've decided to share them with you.  Enjoy!

I'm sick. 

     I'm SO sick! 

     I want to go straight to bed.

     I want to sleep in Papa's bed!

     This bed is too hard, I want to sleep in my bed!

     I need to spit the water out.  (aka vomit)
    
Shall we buy some pretzels?

What do you need when you're thirsty?  Keep reading to find what Brynne thought.

     Papa, do you need more brandy?

Where did the workers go?

     There they are.  Papa, I see the workers!

Where did your beard go?

     Did you throw it in the trash?

     Did you shave it off?

     I love your beard.

It's Sunday, let's go to church!

Papa, the computer doesn't work.  I'll get the tape and hammer.

I want to take a nice, hot, wubbly, bubbly bath.

Oh, that's nice.

     That will be so nice.

     That sounds like fun.

I'm a healthy growing girl!

Don't eat the snow, you will be chilly.

You're silly Papa.

Did I get any Tigger mail today?

You have to put on your shoes before you go outside.

Brrrrrr!  SNOW!!!

I could go on and on, but I think this is probably enough for now.

Car troubles

It's a beautiful, crisp Saturday morning.  I let Mama know I'm headed into town to run some errands by myself.  I love saying "I'm heading into town", it makes me feel so country.  The car starts fine and as I head out, the radio is playing a song I like, but I have the volume low as I'm just enjoying the morning.

As I turn from one country road onto the next I must have hit a pothole, as I now hear an unfamiliar  sound. 

click, click, click

This is in my future, I'm sure of it.

When I change speeds, the sound neither picks up the pace or slows down. 

click, click, click

I listen intently, trying to find the source of the sound, but it sounds as though it's coming from everywhere.

click, click, click

Since I'm starting to become concerned, I pull to the side of the road and listen.  Switching the car to neutral and then to park doesn't change the sound.  Reverse does nothing either.

click, click, click

I put the car back into drive and decide to head to my mechanic, just in case. 

click, click, click

Perhaps I could hear better if I roll down the window.

click, click, click

It may not be "the most annoying sound in the world", but it was close.

No difference.  The radio was already playing softly in the background, but I decide to turn it off, in case that helps me hear better.

silence

The click is gone.  While I do enjoy the silence for a second, I turn the radio back on, thinking maybe there's a short in the radio or something.

click, click, click

There it is again.  It takes me a few seconds to realize what an idiot I am. 

Do you know why I'm an idiot?  Please don't post comments about why I'm an idiot in general, just why I am in this instance.  I think blogger would shut down if everyone posted comments about my idiocy.  The right answer is:

click, click, click was part of the drum beat in the song on the radio.

At least I got to start the day with a good laugh, even if it was laughing at myself.

The high shelves





 

As I wrote a post the other day, I began thinking about the high shelves.  You know, the place you put things that, while you only use them once or twice a decade, you just can't throw them away.  The second you do toss something out, you realize you need it and have to either borrow it from someone else (which requires them to get the ladder out, drag it down, dust it off, and get it to you after checking to make sure it still works) or go buy another one.

 

I thought I'd share with you some of the exciting things I found on our own high shelves.  Keep in mind that we just moved and had every opportunity to toss this stuff out, but we didn't.  Since they've been neglected for so long, I thought I'd make them part of the family by naming them.  In no particular order, here they are: 

 

1 - The margarita maker

 

Neither Mama nor Papa drink tequila.  Yet here she is, Maria the Margarita Maker.  The funniest thing about this item is we still have everything needed to make margaritas, but it's been at least six years since we used it last.  We even have a container of margarita salt, and since salt is a natural preservative, it won't ever expire.  That being said, when I took the lid off the salt, I found it had coagulated into one solid chunk of salt.  While it may still be salty, it is not in a form in which it can be used without much work, so it has been retired.

Yes, I intentionally went with an Hispanic name for her.

2 - Meat grinder/finger masher

While it looks innocent enough, it can destroy anything which enters the tube of death.  I think I used this last about two years ago when making ham salad.  We've never made our own sausage, and I don't foresee that being something we'll do in the near term, but nonetheless, here it stands, in all its glory. 

We actually have two of these beauties.  One we received from my grandma, and the other one, pictured below, which mysteriously showed up on our doorstep one morning.  It needed a good home, and I had a sudden craving for ham salad, so Gary the Grinder has been with us ever since.

Meat Gary.  You see what I did there?  I used "meat" instead of "meet".  Classic.

3 - Non functional bowls

You know those bowls you can't put in the oven, the microwave, or the dishwasher?  Of course you do.  They're the same ones that instantly feel as hot or as cold as the item you put in them.  The very same ones that might break even if they're only being used to hold bread.  We have several of them.  I think we last used them as decorations four years ago, but they've been replaced for whatever reason.  Probably because they were hideous before, and we only put them out when the person who gave them to us came over to make them happy, but soon realized they probably just re gifted them and were laughing at our horrible sense of style.  We'll call them Bubba, Bubba 2, Bubba 3, etc.  I don't know any Bubbas, but I imagine if I did they'd be useless too. 

Just in case you gave us a bowl as an honest gift, I didn't want to hurt your feelings, so none are shown.

4 - "As seen on TV" stuff

I'm sure you're using your slap chop every day.  Or the bacon wave.  Possibly even an automatic jar opener/slicer/dicer/storage thing.  Maybe you got suckered into buying lids for soda cans.  I don't know what you might of bought, but odds are, it's on the high shelf if you've been too ashamed to admit you wasted money on it and chuck it. 

We don't have any of this stuff.  If we did at one point I don't remember.  Maybe I'm suffering from a very specific form of amnesia, but I can't recall ever buying anything I've had to call to order...except the Total Gym, which I have owned since 2000 and actually used recently.  I've named it Charles.

I'd say something about the outfit, but I value my life.

5 - Fondue Pot

I did used to love fondue.  So much, in fact, that as a child, this was my request for a birthday meal every year.  I know you can do pseudo healthy things now, but the thought of taking a very sharp item, stabbing pieces of meat with it, then putting that in a vat of bubbling oil while trying not to spill any out, then taking said skewer out and realizing the meat fell off so I now have to root around the bottom of the pot with the skewer for some remnants of meat which are most likely now the density of a rock, all while the scalding hot cauldron of pain sits inches from two curious toddlers as the cord on it is not long enough to place it anywhere else on the table, is surprisingly no longer appealing to me. 

My cholesterol is actually going up just thinking about it.  Fon-don't seems like a stupid name, so I'll go with Jed.

This guy knew how to do bubblin oil.

6 - Iced tea maker

I actually did used to use this quite a bit.  Until one day when I came inside expecting to have a nice pitcher of tea waiting for me and instead I found a very large puddle of brown water soaking into everything.  You see that little notch on the bottom in the middle?  The broken one?  That's where the front of the pitcher is supposed to sit.  You see where a knob should be in the middle on the top?  That's where you would adjust the rate at which tea flows out.

Ted the Teamaker has been mostly retired since a gruesome accident left him partially disabled and, therefore, unable to perform the main duties of his primary occupation.  If he ever gets his lazy butt off the high shelf, I have to stand there holding the pitcher in place while trying not to burn my hand as tea the temperature of lave comes flying out. 

I know I should put him out of his misery, but I just can't bring myself to do it.

7 - Good China

We, again, don't actually have any of this.  Long ago we decided we'd rather not take up valuable high shelf real estate with something we might actually use once or twice a year.  We then decided the lowest and middle shelves were already full of things we used regularly.  That didn't leave anywhere to put it, so we opted out. 

Perhaps someday we'll decide to spend a lot of money on something fancy we'll break a piece of every time we use it and then have to replace it only to find they've stopped making that pattern and now our set is incomplete so we have to use it for random things and spend even more money on new dishes, but today is not that day.

When I Googled "Good China" this came up.  That's the only reason it's here.

There you go, pretty much our complete list.  What's on your high shelves?

Let's talk

Until recently, any actual conversations I've had with the girls have been mostly one sided.  I could ask them a question, and they might answer it, but that's usually as far as it got.

Last night, Brynne and I had our longest conversation to date.  Brynne's words are in orange (her favorite color) while mine remain in black.

The setup:  Last night we were going to give Ruby her first official bath in a tub.  Unfortunately, late in the afternoon I discovered her bathtub had a hole in it.  I left it sitting at the top of the stairs when I went to get the girls up from nap.  A few hours later, the girls were eating dinner.  Mama found a tub we could borrow from a friend of ours, so she was getting ready to go get it.

They always think we're going either to Walgreen's or church when we leave the house.

And here we go:

Is Mama going to Walgreen's to get me some medicine (pronounced me-ci-cine)?

No, she's going to get a bathtub from Mrs. Anna?

But we already have a tub.

Yes, we do, but we need to get one for Ruby.

Ruby has one.  It's upstairs, lovie.

You're right, but that one has a hole in it.

Ok.  We need to put some tape on it to fix it.

That's a great idea, but tape won't hold the water in.

Oh, ok.  Papa has to fix Ruby Edith's tub. 

The hole is too big to be fixed.

Papa can fix it. Papa can fix anything.

Some things can't be fixed, but thanks for the vote of confidence.

You're welcome.  Papa, may I please have some more milk?  Yes you may.

I realize due to my incredible computer skills you can hardly tell I doctored the picture above.  If you  look closely you may be able to see it.  In order to keep this post clean, I had to do a little censoring of Bob the Builder. Sometimes, language can get a little rough on the job site, and Bob forgets he's supposed to be child friendly.   If you've ever seen the outtakes from one of his shows you'd understand what I mean.   

Check Yo Self

It's not easy for a guy like me to empathize with the daily life and routine of Ice Cube, but we still have some similarities. 

We go way back.

Unlike Mr. Cube,  (I call him Ice) I don't drop bombs on ya moms, have intercourse with car alarms, do foul crime, have the indo, sit in a house of pain, headbutt ya, or have people call me Doughboy.  So what do we have in common?  We both have to check ourselves.

I've mentioned before how these little ones of ours listen to everything we say, even if they don't do what we mean.  Now, it would seem they are comprehending everything we say, and deliberately not doing what we say.

You might be asking yourself

How can you know what a three year old comprehend and what they don't?

Simple.  When (notice I did say "when", and not "if") I do something I've told them not to do, they call me on it.

Just a few examples from the last week.

Proper usage of a chair:

The girls have been told countless times when they sit on a chair they are to sit on their bottoms at all times.  The ceilings in our house are 11.5 feet high.  In the kitchen, the cabinets go almost all the way to the top.  As tall as I am, I still cannot reach the top shelves.

As I look for a vase to put some flowers in, I realize the perfect one is on the top shelf (more to come on this at a later date).  The girls are eating, so I pull my chair over, step up on it, step to the counter, and reach for the vase.  Yes, even I have to stand on the counter to reach things.  As I start my descent, Brynne asks me a question:

"Papa, are we supposed to stand on chairs?"

I reply

"You are not allowed to stand on a chair, but Papa can" 

She then asks me

"Why?"

I won't get into the rest of the conversation that took place.  I never made it to the point of using the age-old parenting response

"Because I said so"

but I was close.

Footwear:

Inside our house, as we've done for a long time, we don't wear shoes.  Mama says it has something to do with germs and dirt, or something like that, so we don't.  The girls are very good about taking their shoes off as soon as they come in.  Occasionally, they'll wander off the rug and have to be called back.  This typically sounds like

"Hadley...shoes."

As I said in my last post, the house is almost 150 years old.  Back then, they didn't dig out the basement, pour a concrete foundation, put up drywall and lights, and make it into a den or playroom.  They simply dug out enough room to create a cellar and allow for air circulation.  Our basement floor is dirt.  The walls are bare brick, and although there are three distinct rooms, in only a small part of it can anyone actually stand up.

It does contain everything you'd typically find in a newer home:  electrical panel, copper pipes that run from nowhere to nowhere, boiler, mostly disintegrated bath mat of unknown age or origin, hot water heater, pump for the well (which hasn't been used for thirty years), water sanitizer (which hasn't been hooked up for thirty years, but amazingly still had some of the nastiest water in it you'd ever seen - ironic since it's sole function is to clean the water), water softener (common theme - not hooked up for a long time, but full of salt, which has fused together to form one huge salt block), bins for storing coal, and a toilet brush from 1950.  All pretty common if you ask me. 

Hmmm, where was I going?  Oh, right. 

If these are the stairs you were imagining, you are slightly off.  The house isn't that old.

You can access the basement by stairs on the inside of the house or by going through the cellar door from the outside.  On a particularly frigid day, I had been working outside and intended to do some work in the basement.  As I opened the external cellar door and headed down the steps, I realized I hadn't unlocked the door to the basement from inside, and wouldn't be able to actually get into the basement. 

I went around to the front door and headed in.  I actually contemplated taking off my shoes before crossing the 15 feet to get to the inside basement door.  Because I had on several layers of clothes, I thought it would just be easier to leave my shoes on as opposed to taking off the layers, then the shoes, then putting them all back on before I went downstairs.

Since Mama was not in sight, I decided to make the walk through the house wearing shoes.  They were clean enough, and really, it was only eight steps.

About the time I took my sixth step I heard a little voice from behind me saying

"PAPA...SHOES"

When I looked back, I found Hadley there with a huge grin on her face.  I said "OOPS!" and finished my walk of shame to the basement. 

Oops is now one of her favorite words.

When I was growing up I never really understood the concept that parents were allowed to do things children weren't.  Because I "insert the appropriate phrase here" (said so/am the grown up/am bigger than you/pay the bills) never stopped me from trying to do everything grown ups did. 

I am realizing my girls may have picked that up from me.

Funny girl

Brynne is starting to display her sense of humor and quick thinking.  Just wanted to share one example of each. 

Humor:

I keep a glass of water on the nightstand at night.  As I sat in the living room the other day, Brynne casually strolled up to me and asked

"Papa, where's your glass of water?"

I told her I didn't know, but I would go look for it.  She instantly started grinning from ear to ear.  As I walked into the bedroom, she trailed me, watching my every move.  The glass was not where it should have been.  Seeing as how it was at least half full about ten minutes earlier, I checked the floor for a trail of water drops.

There were none.

I went into the bathroom to see if she'd emptied it into the sink and left it on the counter as she often does.

This is somewhere between a giggle and full on laughter.  Makes me smile every time.

It was not there.  She giggled behind me.

I asked her where it was and she didn't reply.  She just giggled. 

Upon returning to the bedroom, I noticed the drawer of my nightstand was open slightly and immediately I had flashbacks.

As I walked to the drawer, her giggles became louder.  I sat on the bed and as I reached for the drawer, her giggles became full on laughter.

The drawer pulled open easily, and there was the cup.  It was empty, but the drawer was dry.  As I pulled the cup out and set it on the nightstand she stopped laughing long enough to say

"Papa found it.  Hooray!"

Then she starter to applaud me.  The sink had been dry, the drawer was as well, and the flower next to the nightstand was not newly moist.  Where, pray tell, had the water gone?

She peed about nine times over the next hour and a half.  Mystery solved.

Quick Thinking:

Normally, when we sit down to eat a meal, whatever we serve is their only option.  They don't get to ask for anything they want.

The other morning, I mixed things up a bit and asked them what they wanted for breakfast.  Last time I did this it worked out kinda marvelously, so I thought I'd try again.

Brynne took a few seconds and then said

"Yogurt!"

with quite a bit of enthusiasm.

Yogurt was not an option as we were running a bit short on that.  By "running a bit short" I mean we were out entirely.

I didn't want to tell her we were out of it as that would only make her want it more.  Thinking quickly myself, I told her

"We'll have yogurt for dinner.  What would you like for breakfast?"

It took her another few seconds to reply

"I want dinner."

We do love breakfast for dinner, but dinner for breakfast is a new concept we may need to explore.