This time of year seems to always bring with it some sort of time-lapsed lull; partially because of the relentless winter that snows in a family with small kids, but also because of the illness that comes with having little ones passing germs back and forth like a game of catch. This winter is no different. Apparently, as a family, we are practicing for the All Stars! Illness has spread from one to another, and just when you thought that we were in the home stretch, the game goes into overtime- is then canceled on a count of rain, and is rescheduled for the following day, only to have it all start over from scratch.
As for chores and household cleaning, it was the first thing to go, aside from one exception. It seems that the bathroom gets cleaned more now than when we are all well, simply because of the perceived idea that a puked in bathroom becomes a quarantined bathroom. The rest of the house- well, is a different story. Aside from the kitchen (which is cleaned only because we gotta eat) the rest of our house goes by the wayside. While there is no way that I would ever welcome a robbery, they would be required to clean a path in order to take anything worth more than the umbrella, shoes, and coats that sit near the door. As for guests- they may just need to help a friend out and clean off their couch cushion before they sit down.
And the one place that continues to make me cringe every time I see it is the garage! -Yep, totally went Dad on you there, but it’s been four scores and seven years ago since I have gotten to it, and my work bench is slowly disappearing under the pile of Christmas lights, old oil filters, and various tools that were required for quick jobs that were never put away. I keep telling myself, Someday. Yep, Someday I’ll get to it. But tomorrow isn’t looking good, and neither is the day after. 2011 calendar, here I come!
Childhood Antics #1
It was bedtime at the Devoted Dad House, and we had one of two children down for the count; our baby son was asleep for the night. The other one of the two- well… to say the least, had a ways to go.
Books had been read and our 3 year old little girl was tucked in- for the fifth time in a row. My wife and I had taken turns taking her back to her room, eventually giving the final statement that always comes on a night like this, “This is the last time. If we have to come up one more time, we will have to close your gait!”
She knows we mean business, and decides to stay in her room. My wife and I were settling down for the evening, cozy-ing up on the couch, and watching a program on the television. It was probably an episode of The Office, one of my favorite shows. A half hour had gone by and we were in the clear- or so we thought.
As I sat there, I began to hear the pitter patter of foot steps walking down the hallway. I turned to look at the stairwell where I found my daughter in her mickey mouse pajama’s, walking down the stairs with the back of her hand against her nose.
I asked her, “honey, what is wrong?”
She replied in a serious tone, yet scandalish grin,” Daddy, my hand is stuck to my nose!” While I knew it was time for the gait, she gained a get out of jail free card for inventiveness!
Childhood Antics #2
Tonight -yes this one is hot off the press- my wife was putting my daughter to bed (are you noticing a pattern- antics happen when our children go to bed). After a similar situation, where books had been read and we had gone back and forth, my daughter said that she just wanted us to lie down with her for a few minutes.
Now for a little history, my daughter responds well to “the timer”. Five more minutes solves and avoids so many problems in our household. My Wife agreed to lie down with her for “five minutes”. However, she forgot the timer downstairs.
My daughter asked her, “Where is the timer mommy.”
My wife replied, “The timer is in my brain!”
Perplexed and not understanding what a brain was, my daughter asked, “is that where the milk comes from?”
My wife giggled, and further explained where the brain was. As they continued, my wife said, “My brain is telling me we have 2 minutes left.” To which my daughter replies,” Well, my brain is telling me we have 3 minutes left.” She’s advanced-in knavery too!
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