Yeah what?

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I sometimes, many times actually, think Tyler’s senses are broken. Being parents of two little ones, we try to pick our battles. While I’m not a fan of toys scattered on every floor of the house, we sometimes let it happen. We do have a dedicated play room, but there tends to be overflow into our main living room nearly daily.

“Tyler, can you pick your Batman up and put him in the other room”

“Where is it?”

“On the floor, right in front of you.”

“Well daddy, I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Tyler, it is literally RIGHT in front of your face. Look down.”

At which point, Tyler looks down, turns side to side, checks everywhere, then looks at me, lost. I then have to lean forward ,extend my arm, straighten my index finger until it is inches from the apparently invisible Batman and say again “Tyler, it is Right. There. in front of your face.

“Oh, there it is.”

Meanwhile, I could have picked the Batman up, ran around the house, written a three book novel series about vampires and woman porn in district 12, and planted a garden in the amount of time it took Tyler to see something that was inches from his eyeballs.

His hearing, against these horrible odds, appears to be worse than his eyesight.

I could place my mouth exactly one quarter of an inch from his ear, and say as clearly as humanly possible, “Tyler would you like five pounds of ice cream, every comic book ever made, and every toy you’ve ever dreamed of?” His response to me, every time would be “What?”

Today Sarah got wrapped up playing with Tyler and lost track of time. When I got home from work, she said as much and that there wasn’t enough time to make stir-fry, which she had originally planned.

“I don’t know what to do instead. Maybe spaghetti?”

I thought that sounded swell, as it’d been a while since we last had spaghetti. “That actually sounds pretty good. What do you think Tyler?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

He replied, without a moment’s hesitation, “Yeah, what you said.”

“What did I say, buddy?”

Again, he didn’t even pause, “What mommy said.”

“And what did mommy say?”

“I don’t remember.”

This is why I drink.

Memorial Day Camping v. 2012

The inaugural camping trip of 2012 was a success. Since I’m having all sorts of troubles finding my ability to write complete and wordy blog posts, let’s take baby steps through a picture story, shall we?

Our little home for the next 3 days.

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Typically, we drive up on Thursday, and home on Monday. Unfortunately for everybody involved, Audrey had hand, foot and mouth disease and had a 103º temperature earlier in the week. We had actually discussed cancelling the entire trip. On Thursday night, she bounced back and was her usual adorable self on Friday morning. So… we camped!

Audrey gets her hair all prettied up inside the camper.

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Tyler and Grandpa used walkie-talkies all weekend. Tyler’s handle was “Little T” and Grandpa’s was “Big G”.

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Audrey was her gorgeous self

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The dogs played (Delilah, and my parents’ two dogs, Molly and Max) and got FILTHY!

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Poor Audrey was VERY tired from all the playing…

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Tyler and I caught a baby snapping turtle!

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Audrey got dirty… she loved it and still managed to look beautiful!

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Tyler got filthy! He loved it and looked like a raccoon.

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Audrey got thirsty and had a nice, cold Coors Light.

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Tyler and Grandpa Little T and Big G caught a 16” bass with a Spiderman fishing pole.

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Did I mention that Audrey got filthy?

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It was fun! An absolute blast. Unfortunately, Tyler caught Hand, Foot, and Mouth disease from Audrey and became very lethargic on the last day of camping, and was an absolute miserable mess for the next 5 days afterward.

But, it was all worth it! It seems that everybody in our family loves camping, so I think we need to plan a couple more outings this season!

Cooler than a water tower

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I’ve been waiting for parts to fix my motorcycle for three weeks. I bought a used airbox from a seller on Ebay. He forgot to ship it for a week, so it took a total of two weeks to get it. Meanwhile, my buddy at work has been riding his bike to work and asking me every… single… morning… if I rode in. And each day, I had to tell him that I was STILL waiting for parts.

I finally received the airbox. Unfortunately for me, the seller didn’t include the airbox covers. There were three of them, and they were all missing. So, instead of an airbox, I had more of an… I don’t know… air NOT-box. I contacted the seller and very tactfully (really, I was very polite) told him that I assumed that the airbox would include the covers that would make it an actual box. I asked if he had them available and, if so, could he please ship them to me, because my motorcycle simply won’t run without all of the parts.

The reply email read: “Sorry, as is.”

What could I do? I left him negative feedback and called it a day. The following day, I called the local motorcycle shop. The lady that answered the phone seemed completely put out that somebody would call a parts department and ask if they had three parts. So, no business for them. My last try was a cycle shop that was equal distance away, but simply in the opposite direction. This guy was extremely nice and courteous. He didn’t have the parts but would order them and have them in four days.

Four days apparently means three weeks.

Nonetheless, I received an email from them, telling me that my parts had arrived.

Two days ago, Sarah and Audrey hit the road to go to some walk to end women’s abuse, or something. I’d just as soon tell people to stop hitting women, but if they want to walk for it, that’s their prerogative. After we got dressed, I told Tyler to put his kicks on so we could go get some parts for the motorcycle.

As we began our 20 minute drive, he asked approximately 437 questions. “What’s that? Why is the road gray? How do you make water shoot on your window? How many days until you have to go back to work?” On and on and on. And I answered each question with nothing but patience. “That looks like a squashed bug. Roads are made of asphalt, and asphalt is gray and black. I push a button to shoot cleaner on my window, see, like this. Two days, buddy.”

I love these conversations. He asks great questions, and it’s one of the rare times that I feel like a genius.

“Daddy, what’s that big giant thing?”

“What thing?” I replied. All I saw were buildings, and I was fairly certain he knew what a building was.

“That big huge thing with a grape on it. Way up there.”

I ducked down so I could look up higher out of the car’s window. Behind a building was the town’s water tower. I’d explained what a water tower was to Tyler before, but he must have forgotten. To his benefit, he was only two months old at the time.

“Oh, That’s a water tower. It’s full full full of water. When somebody turns the water on in their house, water is pushed from that giant tower into their house.”

He sat silent for a moment then followed with, “All the way under the ground and dirt and into a house?”

“Yes, Tyler. That’s exactly right. That’s how all the people in all the houses around here get their water; from that big giant water tower.”

“Oh, that’s cool daddy.”

I smiled. “Yes. That is pretty cool.”

“Daddy, do you want to know what’s cooler than a water tower?”

“Yes, buddy. What’s cooler than a water tower?”

“Ninjas.”

Yes, Tyler. I think that’s about right.