Future supply siders in the making. Awesome. Though you should point out to your kids that, you know, that’s the price they pay to live under your roof and get room and board.

Yeah, I’m only recently getting cussing under control around the younguns.

Yeah, mine does that too.

I sent this costume as a suggestion for the Mrs. She told me I’d look very hot in that.

Heh.

Every night, before bed, I tell Junior she can watch one last TeeVee show. And it’s usually Little Bear, which I hate. I mean really hate. Each show is not really a story but rather a random series of events strung together with no discernible point. But I digress. Any way, the one last show usually gives her enough time to calm down from the latest activities and get ready for bed. The other night, she was watching her last show and I noticed she was laying on the floor and acting very tired. It was getting late, compared to her usual bed time, so I decided that since she was tired and wasn’t particularly paying attention to the show that I’d occasionally hit the fast forward 30 seconds button on the DVR. I do that and in a few minutes the closing credits come on and I say Show’s over. Time for bed. She looks at me and says You did that! Uh oh.

I’d done this a hundred times before and she never noticed.

I do fear for the future:

Our grandparents survived the Depression and gave Hitler a stomping. Our parents invented Woodstock and made the cops invent tear gas. We watched TeeVee and played Atari, and our children are swaddled in bubble wrap. Devolution in four generations

In an update to my conflict with the neighbor’s dog, I went for a ride again last night with The Second. The dog is still running loose. But, since I kicked him in the face, he just chases the bike now from a safe distance and doesn’t get close enough to be a danger. He’s smarter than his owners.

DAMIT had his dudes severed. Me and the Mrs. are now 99.9% sure that we do not want another little rugrat. Maybe, mostly, kinda, sorta, except on Tuesdays when we’ve had time to think about it, err but almost definitely. Maybe.

At some point, when we pick up the additional 0.1%, I’ll be getting the ol’ snip snip. It doesn’t sound too bad, from what I hear. But it does come with the added benefit of giving me back about a 20X5 area of my workshop since we can get rid of all the baby clothes we’re keeping just in case.

Readers of this site know that I’m a fairly animal/dog friendly kinda guy. And that I advocate responsible dog ownership. However, I do not tolerate from any dog (mine or yours) aggression toward people.

A few nights a week, I go for a bike ride for some exercise. I have one of those carriers so that Junior or The Second can make my ride much harder tag along. Last night, the wife was running errands and I got home before her and the kids. I figured I’d run into them in the subdivision, so I grabbed Junior’s helmet so that if I did run into them, she could ride with me. On my ride, one of the neighbor’s dogs was (as it always is) running loose (midsized mutt probably about 35-40 pounds). And he comes running up to my bike and acting aggressively. He was pretty close and looked as though he’d do what dogs do which is bite the tires. I still haven’t figured out why dogs bite tires. And as he does, the bike kinda weaves out into the main street. So, I kicked him real hard in the face. And he tumbled.

I make a lap and here comes the Mrs. Mobile. I stop and show Junior I brought her helmet and she’s excited about the ride. The Mrs. gets out to strap Junior in and sees the dog in the field by the car leering at us. She says: That dog looks mean. I don’t like him staring at us. And I say: He’s much more agreeable since I kicked him in the face.

If that dog had done that while I had one of the kids on the bike, I’d have been livid. It’s one thing to endanger me (I’m a big boy) but if my kids are threatened, I get a little grumpy.

People, please restrain your dogs. It’s safer for other people and for the dog.

In Atlanta. My buddy’s wife is now stateside.

Tam sets them straight: “Tribal tattoos”? Give me a break. “18-y.o. Skinny White Kids From The ‘Burbs” isn’t any tribe I’ve heard of.

So, I noticed a trend. Whenever I left the room for any reason and the kids were left alone, The Second would start crying. Without fail. Every time. It was obvious that Junior was doing something to make him cry, like take a toy or just generally be mean. So, I explained to Junior that if I left the room again and The Second started crying that she’d be the one in trouble. Hasn’t happened since.

I guess maybe it could be unfair as, you know, I can’t prove in a court of law she was up to something. And I suppose he could start crying for other reasons but so far that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Speaking of, Junior is doing show & tell at school. This week, she was to take something that started with the letter A. The Mrs. inquires about what would be a good thing to take. I reply with AR-15?

At our vacation condo, Junior was confused by the telephone. See, she’s never seen one with a cord attached to it before.

Of course, she’d never seen commercials before a couple of months ago.

The Mrs. calls and says Junior’s school offers a service where a private agency will take fingerprints, pictures, descriptions, etc. of Junior to be retained in the event she (God forbid) goes missing. I’m not opposed to the idea (provided it’s not some state mandated thing) and think if parents want to do that on their own that is fine. She calls me and the conversation goes a bit like this:

The Mrs.: I just wanted to make sure you were OK with that.

Me: Sounds fine to me.

The Mrs.: Because you’re kinda weird about stuff like that.

Moi? No idea what she’s talking about.

Oh, and I’ll save you the trouble: it’s a scam. Seems dude shows up, gives you a kit to do this yourself and you keep the kit in a safe place, and then he tries to sell you life insurance.

One of the shows that the Mrs. records for Junior is Lou and Lou: Safety Patrol. The shows are short (like five minutes) and Lou and Lou run around with little badges declaring things to be safety violations. One such show was fire safety and another was putting on sunscreen when at the beach. Aside from the creepy nanny nature of the show that makes me want to tell the kids to mind their own business, it does teach kids important things. And it also could lead kids to shame their parents into things.

However, one episode taught kids about having a disaster preparedness kit (with adequate food, radio, batteries, etc.). And the same show taught kids to have a BOB, though they called it a Go Bag. I suppose with Katrina and 9-11, what used to be an activity of the survivalists is now rather mainstream.

To watch the video, go here and click the one that says Get Ready, Get Set, Emergency. I told the wife that one of the items they did not include in their kit was a carbine.

This weekend’s lesson that Junior learned: Don’t squeeze kitties.

As someone who just got back from vacation, I’d buy a power assisted stroller. Even better, one with a remote.

Remember, Junior, we took the monsters to the beach and the sharks ate them.

My wife sends me the weather forecast for our secure undisclosed location and it shows thunderstorms all week. I send back that I hope our condo is comfy. She replies with:

If not, I am sure the couches at the outlets are.

This past Sunday, the family went to my parents’ house. Junior and I were playing in the pool. There was this giant inflatable alligator that is about eight feet long and Junior loves to ride it. My folks also had those little weighted stick things that you throw in the pool, they sink, and you retrieve them. Junior thought it was big fun to throw them in and for me to get them. She threw two of them a bit too far, so I didn’t get them since she was on the edge of the pool and I wasn’t gonna leave her. Later, she was away from the pool by the porch (about eight feet) and she asks me to go get the two from the deep end. I tell her I will but that she needs to stay put. I swim over, dive down and grab the first one. I come out of the water and glance her way and she’s walking toward the pool and headed right for the big inflatable alligator. Before she got there, I start swimming her way. She attempts to jump on the alligator and it flips over. Did I mention she can’t swim? So, she goes under. I swam as fast as I could. I get there and she’s under the alligator. I pick up the alligator and she comes out with it. She had a death grip on the alligator. She managed to hold her breath and was OK, but a bit shaken.

The most amazing thing was that whole incident lasted maybe a second and a half. I’m no Olympic swimmer or anything, but it was only about ten feet distance to get there. And I probably covered that in something that could be measured in fractions. Despite that, when you’re living it, it seemed like forever. I could feel every individual muscle in my body moving. I could feel every individual drop of water hitting my face and back. But I could see nothing other than her kicking under water and I could hear nothing except the splash. It was the most focused on one thing I’ve ever been in my life. Time literally felt like it stopped.

She’s OK but didn’t want to get back in the pool again. And for the rest of the day, my wife commented on how sweet Junior was acting. And I joked that maybe having her life flash before her eyes calmed her down a bit.

Update: not sure how I closed comments. Must be all that reasoned discourse. They are open now.

The other day, I went outside to fix Junior’s seat on the bike. As I was tightening a bolt, I looked at my leg and there were five mosquitoes bellied up to the buffet. Ugh. I looked at Junior and she had some on her too. Took her inside, I hit myself with some Off and continued working. Anyway, via MCB, we learn that some plants repel the little buggers. Good to know. We have a Rosemary bush (for eating) on the side yard. Now, I’m gonna put a couple by the front and back porches.

From the post below:

Think about your neighborhood; think about the use of eminent domain on your house. How do you explain these things to our children?

Indeed.

The Mrs. called to inform me that:

At Target, Code Yellow means lost child.

I’m only one generation away from what is basically poor white trash. And sometimes it shows. To wit:

So, Sunday, with the Mrs. gone, the kids were playing in the kiddie pool. We wrapped up, went inside for a bit. Then both kids wanted to go back to the pool. I’d already cleaned up swim wear and towels and stuff. And my backyard is pretty private. So, I just took the kids’ clothes off and let them splash around naked. In a kiddie pool. While I drank beer. And I thought to myself Self, this is pretty white trashy. But at least my beer was Stella Artois and not Natural Light.

Also, the Second had a big weekend. Among his firsts: can get up stairs, can high five, and I retired the bath seat.

I feel your pain.

Update: Funny in the comments from Jon:

Keep in mind, he’ll be returning the favor someday….

And TiVo too.

So, me, the Mrs. and Junior were watching live TeeVee the other day. A commercial comes on. Junior, obviously concerned, says Where’d the show go? It occurred to us that she was three years old and had never seen a commercial before.

Yesterday, I was awarded the coveted Dad of the Year Award, for the third year in a row. It must be tough on you other dads out there to know that every year, I win it. I mean, there really is no competition. I rule. It’s not even close. I get 100% of the votes every year. This daddin’ stuff has its rewards.

In other news, today Junior is three. I really have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact she’s three now. Happy birthday, sweetie.

According to my wife, I should not let The Second have a lighter or hang around a hot smoker. Who knew?