Our Silent Partner

If one was to ask us about the members of our family we would list each other, our three daughters, our two sons, our two cats, and our dog. But there is a family member that we would be missing. That member is Chimney. Now Chimney isn't a member of the family in the traditional sense. Chimney lacks a circulatory system, doesn't eat, doesn't poop, and is by far the quietest of our brood.

It's the little one

Chimney is Merritt's constant companion.  If we are going on vacation, Chimney rides shotgun next to Merritt in her seat.  If Merritt is heading to bed Chimney is next to her on her pillow. When the zombies rise and begin to feast on the living, before we retreat to our subterranean stronghold, and begin our new life as mole people;   I better make sure that we have Chimney packed and secure.  If we forget that small bundle of fluff, I'm going to have to hack and wade my way back through the walking dead to retrieved our honorary family member.

Merritt inherited Chimney from her eldest sister about three and a half years ago and for a long time our 7 year old proudly announced to strangers that we have a pet wolf. A REAL PET WOLF NAMED CHIMNEY.

God help anyone foolish enough to doubt this claim.

I bring Chimney up because we are about one month into the beginning of the new school year. This timeline is in spite of my attempts at flying around the earth and increasing it's rotation thereby speeding up time. 

shut up and let people have fun

This has brought up memories of the last time we were in this place. I'm speaking of Merritt's first experience of show and tell. Being that Chimney had been Merritt's constant companion up until this point, and remains her buddy to this day, I assumed that her wolf was a slam dunk for the first show and tell.

Sadly her long term buddy had to wait until the next week and was superseded by this costume.

Wakanda Forever

I'm not opposed to my child dressing like T'Challa. Far from it. In fact, I think that all school uniforms should be Avengers based. I'd much rather watch the East County Asguardians take on the Central City Agents of Shield.   Hell I'd watch those teams in a golf tournament, and I don't even like sports.

I found myself worried about Chimney's feelings. It's a weird place to be in when you are in your 40's and experiencing anthropomorphism. 

Logically I know that Chimney is a stuffed animal, has no brain, and no ability to feel rejection. That being said, I made double certain that Chimney was placed next to Merritt for several nights following that event. You know... just in case. In case Chimney needed extra cuddles.  In case the stuffed wolf was sad. 

As parents, we are always worried about how our kids are going to turn out. We want our children to be kind, smart, clever, fun, funny, and interesting.  

I suppose that when Merritt decided to leave her life long buddy behind I was worried that our sweet heir to the throne of Wakanda was demonstrating a lack of empathy and concern for her friend.  I need reminders that sometimes my kids are just going to be kids. Being excited about a new toy is appropriate and doesn't mean that she's going to turn her back on friends later on in life. I have an amazing partner that gives me those reminders.

It turns out that so far my fears have been unfounded.

As I write this Merritt and her brothers are throwing a birthday party for Chimney. It consists of music, dancing, and a request for baked goods.  The sound track consists of songs that Chimney "likes". I have no idea how that selection criteria works or how today was decided as the day of her REAL pet wolf's birth.

The important thing is that Merritt is making sure that her friend being celebrated.  Just like a good friend should.

Cheers

L&P

Game of Thrones

One of the most amazing things about parenthood is watching your children reach milestones. We cherish the memories of those first words, first steps, first lost tooth, first day of school, and first Monty Python quote. Some of these milestones are less fun; first heart break, first broken bone, first time they are denied C-list celebrity status during a rose ceremony.  Full disclosure, we're not certain how the Bachelor works. Do you become famousish in exchange for your dignity? Don't answer that.

Most of these milestones happen whether we want them to or not. The milestones that depend on our judgement are trickier. I'm speaking of course of the first time you send your child into a public restroom by themselves.

Hi

There are many possible dangers on a child's first solo flight; creeps, weirdos, orcs, and the scariest of all... user error. I remember one horror story of a little boy who returned to his mother after his first time going to the loo a la carte.  He could not wait to tell his mother about the "really cool sinks they have in there!"

Pictured Above...Not a Sink

 The mother of the above mentioned child rushed him into the ladies room as quickly as possible to give his hands a thorough washing.

My first attempt was not more successful. I won't mention where we were located as I fear judgement about dietary choices.  Lets just say that a play area and golden arches were involved. I was outnumbered that day. I mean, we are always out numbered but one half of us was grocery shopping while the other half kept an eye on 4/5ths of our offspring (the last 1/5th is in college and has long since mastered the art of unaccompanied toilet use). So it was 4 to 1. In case you needed help with the math.

The boys demanded use of the facilities with all the grace and subtlety one would expect from two 5 years old with a full bladders. We had only just arrived and I had not yet settled the ladies. In a moment that would soon prove the saying regarding hindsight being 20/20, I sent the lads forward and told them I'd be right there.

In the few moments the boys were alone disaster struck. I will leave which one did this out of the text here so as to not ruin any future presidential bids. To his credit, he was sitting in a toilet; just not one designed for the function he was using it for.

Pictured Above...Not For Poop

The boy had already completed the transaction by the time I'd arrived. Being the responsible individual I am, the manager was informed ASAP.  He was very gracious considering my youngling had besmirched his latrine.

After this experience it was determined that the boys would be supervised during visits to the water closet for the time being. Unfortunately, I am still typically outnumbered 2 to 1. This combined with how excited the boys are to be getting taller means that on a few occasions, the lads have misjudged the height of their equipment as it relates to height of the lip of the urinal.
 
I assume that these miscalculations are common place and due to this I will never understand how every 5 year old boy does not have chlamydia.

After multiple occurrences I have began to take advantage of a little thing called male privilege. Or in other words, allowing the boys to pee in parking lots.  We won't be able to get away with this for much longer as the lads are starting kindergarten soon.  They are going to have to get used to fact that the world is not their toilet.  It was a goodish strategy while it lasted.

Cheers

L&Pee


 

Reboot To The Head

Recently our Little's have been discovering some of the things that I delighted in when I was a kid. Many of these ideas have been revamped, re-imagined, and updated to appeal to a new generation. Among these is Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Scooby Doo, Voltron, She-Ra (coming soon), Ducktales and many others. As I'm viewing these with the kids I'm seeing them through the eyes of a parent, not the target audience. It's an interesting experience and it's led me to what may be considered a controversial opinion. Master Splinter was a shitty father.

Garbage

But he taught him them to fight evil and become heroes! 

Maybe,  but that isn't all he did.  Consider the following. 

•  He raised them in a sewer. 

They are in New York City. I know that social services are tricky to navigate but an abandoned warehouse, a shelter, a car, an abandoned subway car, any of those would likely be a better environment for raising a family than where poop lives. I suppose you could make an argument that Splinter was trying to keep them from being ostracized do to looking different. But if that is the case what you are really saying is that the every kid that wasn't aesthetically awe inspiring was braver than the heroes on the half shell. 

•  He prioritized violence over socialization.

Splinter's children were kept under lock and key until they were teenagers. If you heard of anyone else doing this you would demand that child services intervene. They had no way of making friends outside of their little cult and the only social modeling demonstrated for them was on television.  They don't know how to make friends or navigate complex social interactions. They do know how to kick someone's molars into their stomach though.

• No female role models.

Splinter is clearly an incel. I'm sure that being a rat-person makes it hard to meet that special someone. That doesn't mean that his boys shouldn't have some exposure to women folk that isn't filtered through cable TV. Not only are they being raised to expect an unrealistic beauty standard, but also unrealistic relationship standards. 

• He didn't vaccinate his children.

I'm making an assumption here. I suppose "Splinter takes the boys in for a well child check" wouldn't make an exciting episode.  However since he doesn't seem to take advantage of any other social services, I think it's safe to say that they aren't contributing to herd immunity.

• Poor nutrition.

Pizza has protein, veggies, whole grains, and occasional fruit (pineapple is great, don't @ me). All the basics are there. But not for EVERY meal. Eat the rainbow kids.

• Weird boundaries

He made them call him Master. He didn't go with dad, pops, father, uncle, or any other endearing nickname. He went with Master. What is the opposite of master? Slave isn't it?  Talk about toxic masculinity. Also he never wore pants.

Now I understand that Splinter wasn't exactly given the proper tools for raising well adjusted individuals; he's a rat, a mutant, has a trauma history, and I'm not sure about what kind of parenting was modeled for him.  I also know that it's not exactly proper to shame other parents.  We are all going through struggles and he was a single father of four. So maybe I should cut him a little slack.

The more I watch these kids' shows the more I'm struck by how many problems are solved with what I call, "punch based interventions".  In other words, two characters have a disagreement, rather than talking things out, fists fly and before long a victor is declared. Might makes right in these instances nearly every time. 

My concern is, while entertaining, this is poor preparation for conflict resolution later in life.  I'm not saying that there shouldn't be violence on TV. Considering the amount of pro wrestling I watched as a kid, it would be pretty hypocritical of me to do so. Watching that much WWF did give me an unrealistic expectation for how often in life I would solve a dispute with a short arm clothesline followed by a DDT. (If you can name the wrestler I'm thinking of post it in the comments and give yourself 10 L&P points!)

 I enjoy a good fight scene as much as the next guy.  However some variation problem solving would be a good idea. A few years back I saw this little bit of wonderful. 

Wasn't that nice? 

It was wasn't it?

Very nice.

Leonardo should still be trashing the Foot Clan members with his dual katanas. I dig that, it's exciting. But maybe every so often Splinter can encourage Michelangelo to learn some collaborative problem solving skills along with his sewer surfing (yuck). 

Maybe if the Ninja Turtles talked to some of the Foot Clan members instead of their default reaction being nunchucks of doom, there would be less Foot Clan members and more contributing members of society.

In conclusion, Master Splinter sucks, the Flash is awesome, and vaccinate your kids.

Cheers

L&P

Whack-A-Mole

When we first moved into our current location we saw that there was no small amount of work to be done. One of the many projects is the yard. Eventually we expect to use this space for gardens, fruit trees, flowers, a shaded patio for outdoor dining, and a time machine. For the time being, we'd be happy if it just looked nice.

I would like to prioritize the time machine so that I can fast forward to after all that work is done. It has been pointed out to me that not only is time travel not likely, but that if we are in the time machine then no one will do the work needed and none of those other things will ever get done.  Killjoys. 

Having a well maintained yard requires a lot of hard work, determination, not a small amount of money, a little bit of vanity, and most of all, the cooperation of mother nature.  So far we are 4 for 5. Our first attempt was last year, after doing research we learned that the best way to rehabilitate our front law was to kill it (it was more weeds than lawn),  rototiller it, replant it, water it, then watch the grass grow.

We killed it, we rototillered it (thank you Peter for the use of your tool), then we waiting for the weather to dip below 90 degrees for optimum planting temp. Then we waited, and we waited, and we waited, until school started again and work schedules made it impossible to take the time to replant. 

The result of this experiment was that we had a lovely lush lawn of dirt, dirt, and yet still more dirt.

Fast Forward to the beginning of this summer. Now we were armed with experience! We added new dirt (because we clearly needed more), and seeded, and watered, and lo and behold our efforts began produce fruit. By fruit I mean grass. Not enough grass yet. Basically our lawn now looks like a comb-over. Not just a comb-over but a comb-over on a weird and lumpy skull. That is thanks to our new nemesis. The Moles.

Hi

Sure they seem cute when they are helping Secret Squirrel but just you wait until you are trying to enjoy a nice leisurely stroll across your yard and find yourself sinking deep down into depths of the nether world! Well, that may be an exaggeration.  I'm not trying to make a mountain out of... well, you know, but they seriously uglify our yard and we've worked too hard to suffer their burrowing ways.  We have sought multiple solutions to remedy this scourge.

Solution 1: Poison! Put a few cap fulls of this nastiness underground and enjoy a unmolested yard! 

Result: No discernible difference.  Also, did you notice the pun with unMOLEested. It's ok if you didn't. I missed it at first too. If you caught it then well done.  

Solution 2: Put a garden hose down a hole and drown'em!

Result: A wet yard and new mole hills.

Solution 3: Attach a garden hose to the exhaust of your car and put it down a hole and smoke'n out!

Result: Minus $20ish on the device to connect the exhaust to the hose, no known moles have perished.

Apparently creatures that live a subterranean life style are used to low oxygen environments.

Solution 4: Smoke sticks, lite'm on fire, bury them, and poison em!

Result: A yard that smells like farts for a while. No known dead moles.

Solution 5: Traps, three different kinds. One that pinches, one that grabs and one that stabs!
Full disclosure, the lack of success may be due to my incompetence at setting them rather than the trap's inability to catch the moles. One of them did trigger, but if the only way to know if the trap did it's job is to dig a giant hole in the yard.

Result: Inconclusive

Solution 6: Random Chance and a shovel: No shit, this has been our most successful tactic.

Result 2 for 2.

Success story 1: I was listening to Visigoth with the children while doing dishes (if you enjoy metal I recommend them) when the other half of this blog entered the home quickly and frantically exclaiming that there was "something" on the porch.

I hustled out the front door to find the small demon scurrying back and forth attempting to escape my vengeance. At this point the children also attempted to join me in the front yard to see what all the hubbub was. I had picked up a piece of 2X4 to complete the task and was still holding it when I ordered our offspring back into the home. 

To the common passerby with mandatory reporter status, this would seem like a concerning situation as it appeared that I was threatening the kids with lumber.  

***Trigger Warning***

(I'm about to kill a mole)

With the children secure inside I ditched the short piece of wood and found a shovel. Prior to bringing it down upon my nemesis I shouted the words "Whack-A-Mole Mother fucker!!!

OK I didn't really but I prefer to remember it that way. It makes me feel like a bad ass for killing something that I outweigh by a double an order of magnitude. 

After the initial impact I made another effort just to be sure.  Then I flung the remains into the field near the house.

There were several calls by friends and family to stake the remains a la Vlad the Impaler. We believe that this solution is counter to our ultimate goal of a beautiful yard.

Success story 2. 

***Second Trigger Warning***

(another mole is about to die)

You would think that after one mole went topside and disappeared the rest of them would be the wiser for it. Such was not the case.

I did not experience this second shovel full of death first hand. I did get to hear it though. The other half of Levity and Perspective called while I was at my desk.  Maybe this second mole was on some kind of search and some rescue mission when my wife found it on our porch. If that is the case, the mission failed.

At first, the plan was to capture the beast and await my arrival at home to do the dirty work. This plan was flawed however as the creature known most for burrowing started to burrow. Shocking, we know.

Few things survived the ensuing violence, including the mole and the other half of this blog's bladder control. Once again, the weapon of choice was a shovel.

After the dirty work was done the witnesses, our children and niece were heard to say, "That's one dead mole." 

The carcass of the devil rodent remained in place until I arrived home and sent it into the field via shovelpult to meet it's cousin.

We understand that for many of you, pulling a 'Little Bunny Foo Foo" is not big deal and bopping things on the head may just be a regular ass Wednesday for you. For us this was a bit of culture shock. Delivering a rodent to its maker via digging tech is not something us city folk had acquired a taste for and we've yet to find a suitable palate cleanser.

At this time we continue the battle. There may be some readers that will recommend a more humane method of varmint disposal. To those individuals I invite you to our home and you are welcome to try.

If you'll excuse me, I have an exterminator to call.

Cheers,

L&P


***Edit***
It has been pointed out to me that moles are not rodents, they are insectivors.
Although to be fair, I also called them devil's and I have no evidence that they ever had or lost celestial status.
So there is that if you.

L&P

Enter the Doggone

About a month ago we were presented with an offer that we felt that we could not refuse.
One of the Levity and Perspective mom's were informed of a Goldendoodle that was in need of a new home. Her name was Ruthie and she belonged to a loving family. Unfortunately due to circumstances beyond the families control they couldn't spend enough time with the dog and felt that she would be happier in a home where she would receive more attention. They were seeking a nice family that would be willing to take Ruth in and provide a loving and supportive environment.

Since a nice family could not be located, we volunteered our services.

Her name has remained mostly the same since we took her in though Merritt added a second name. So I now present Ruthie Anna.

Hi

The nick names that she has received thus far are Ruth Bader Dogsberg, Baby Ruth, Doggo, Ruthersford B Hayes, and Ruby. She is also called each of the childrens' names when we are particularly flustered.

Now, being that my wife and I are both in our 40s, have multiple college degrees and professional licenses between us, have a child entering her Junior year of college, and have had less than 4 severe head injuries occur in our household over the past couple of years, one might assume that we are competent enough to make this decision on our own. One might think that others would grant us the basic respect that we had thought through whether or not we should add another happy face (dog or otherwise) to our home. One might imagine we had weighed the pros and cons and carefully plotted out our family budget and arrived at outcome that this would be a positive for our family.

Strangely this was not the case.

Now we may be a bit sensitive on the topic because many of our decisions such as, having a kid with special needs, having a third kid, having twins, adopting cats (by the way we have two cats too),  and our LA Guns cover band, have been met with similar skepticism and dour attitudes.

It should be noted that the only of the aforementioned choices that we have come to regret is the one that I just made up.

Some folks still ask with a sour tone, "Why? Would you want a dog too? Have you thought this through?"

Well I'll tell you why:

1. We wanted to
2. Entertaining two five year olds and a seven year old is tough work and we needed the help
3. Picking up cheerios is cumbersome 
4. She makes us happy
5. We like fun
6. None of your damn business
7. She encourages us to exercise more
8. She is awesome
9. She makes us smile
10. Still none of your damn business

We realize that our life might strike others as overwhelming, and it is. But we are the ones living it. We are competent adults capable of  making decisions on our own. To assume otherwise is insulting and speaks more to your inability than ours.

Would you tell Michael Jordan how to dribble a basketball? No you wouldn't, because he's Michael Fucking Jordan.  Am I saying that we are the Michael Jordan of big families? Yes I am. Minus the gambling and with more crying. 

Why did we buy a white couch?

If you think I'm wrong then why don't you raise five kids and show me how to do it better.

What's that? You don't know how to? You wouldn't want to?

In that case might I recommend that you provide us with the same advise that I provide test pilots as they approach mach 2? Which is none. My advice to them would be unsolicited, unappreciated, and most of all uneducated.  I know exactly nothing about being in those circumstances so I keep my lip buttoned.

That is not to say that no one should voice an opinion on the matter. I'm speaking of course of the stake holders; those that are directly effected by the decision. As far as I can tell there are three stake holders in this situation; ourselves, Ruthie Anna, and the mom that will occasionally be asked to dog sit. I will now list the stake holders opinions on the adoption below.

Us: For it
Mom: For it
Ruthie Anna: Woof

That's three to zero, the Aye's have it.


Cheers,

L&P

10 Minutes (Adventures in Maggie Rearing Vol. 4)

For those of you not in the know about parenting a kid with special needs, we have to keep our head on a swivel. All day every day. From the time we wake up to... well also while we are asleep, when we sleep. We don' really sleep.  True this can be said of the parenting experience on the whole but I find that the times I let my guard down for Maggie related issues the consequences are especially trying.  Take for instance the morning routine.

6:15 Wake up and begin coffee, breakfast, and making lunches.

6:30 Starting waking the 6 year old up.

6:45 Deliver 6 year old her breakfast and first outfit choice.

6:47 Remind 6 year old her breakfast is getting cold and present second outfit choice.

6:49 Dry 6 year old's tears because she hates the first two outfits, remind her that breakfast is getting cold, attempt to find (weather inappropriate) outfit request.

6:55 Reheat breakfast because it's TOO COLD and explain that the requested clothes are dirty but we can wash them for tomorrow. Help 6 year old into outfit choice 1.

7:00 Deliver Maggie's breakfast, turn on Abba Pandora.

7:02 Remind the twins that it's not TV time yet. Attempt 1 at getting boys to eat.

7:09 Remove all art supplies from the 6 year old, remind her that breakfast is going to get cold again and begin the shoe struggle.

7:11 Remind the twins that it's not TV time yet, feeding attempt 2.

7:15 Begin tooth brushing odyssey.

7:20 Take the 6 year old to school

7:30 Remind the twins it's still not time for TV, feeding attempt 3, and get boys dressed... where did you get a sword?

7:35 Help Maggie get dressed.

7:38 Stop the bleeding, seriously, where did you get a sword?

7:45  Put out the fire (for legal reasons please assume that this is a metaphor)

7:50 Begin watching for the bus.

Now we enter the danger zone and where we get the title for this particular blog entry. Part of the deal with having a kiddo with special needs is that the bus picks her up at the house rather than having to strut her out to a bus stop. For the last several weeks the bus has shown up pretty much right at 8:00 am. It's not uncommon that we miss the bus for reasons that are out of our control. The following is not a complete list but should give you an idea of some of the things that can take longer than tem minutes to remedy and may result in Maggie missing the bus.

• Foodmergency (cold)
• Twin Brawl
• Cat-aclysm
• Foodmergency (hot)
• Pokemeltdown
• Pootasrophy
• Apparel mishap
• T.V.engence
• Egg Failure
• Wafflop
• Shoebacle (hot)
• Total System Failure
• Under caffeination
• Udder caffeination
• Laundry adversity
• Act of God (Abrahamic) 
• Slips
• Spills
• Band Aid Snobbery
• Act of Gods (Hindu)
• Blatant disregard for authority
• Missing socks
• Blight
• Disco Fever 

  The bus driver, a lovely woman, and I have developed a system wherein I give her a thumbs up or thumbs down regarding whether or not we will be utilizing her services that morn . If I'm not at the window then it is likely that someone overslept, someone has a fever, or we are scraping cat innards off of something.

To be clear, I'm not blaming the bus driver for the days that Maggie misses the bus. Nor do I have a better solution for getting her to school on time. Well, not one grounded in reality at least. But just for fun lets say; drone delivery, self driving car, griffin, and magic banana.

The only reason that this is an Adventure in Maggie Rearing is because I arbitrarily selected Maggie's bus pick up time as a snapshot of our home. It could have just as easily been an adventure in punctuality; but I love that picture of Maggie too much to not use it. 

I hope you enjoyed this peak into our home.

Cheers,

L&P

Adventures in Maggie Rearing Vol. 3

Well we haven't had one of these in a while and clearly our sweet Maggie was worried that you'd all forgotten about what an adventure she can be.

One of the most challenging/terrifying/interesting/terrifying things about raising a child that has special needs that is largely nonverbal is that she can't tell you where she's been, what she's thinking, if she's in pain, or if she wants a sandwich.  This isn't to say that we have issues understanding Maggie. For instance, she pretty much always wants a sandwich.

A couple of weeks back we were lucky enough to find ourselves at the coast with family. We were having a great time. By that I mean William had been vomiting enough that we decided it would be a good idea to take him to the Emergency Room.
After all, what family vacation is complete without at least one trip to the hospital.

Long story short, Will is fine.

Back to Maggie.

We were shy one adult, and worried about sweet William when I left Maggie on the porch. Leaving my daughter with food in hand, tablet playing a movie in the other, and water bottle in lap, I let my guard down for the same amount of time that it takes to make one ham sandwich.

I don't mean any kind of fancy panini affair either. Just strait up ham and provolone; no bells or whistles for this gent thank you very much.  Ok maybe some avocado, but come on! It's got the good fat!

Anyways shortly after slathering on some mustard I noticed that Maggie's familiar noises were absent from the porch. I wandered outside and found Maggie's shoes, tablet, sandwich, and water bottle, but the porch was decidedly sans Maggie.

I asked our host and the surrounding children if any of them knew where she was; with all answers in the negative panic began to set in. My first thought was that she may have seen a neighbor's hot tub and decided that it was a good time and place to take a bath.  After all, Maggie views conventional etiquette as optional.  My search resulted in no Maggie. Maggie's older sister and friend began a search of the area.  I was worried that Maggie had decided to take a walk to the beach by herself which could result in the rest of my life having significantly less Maggie than I prefer.

As I encountered strangers I asked them, "Have you seen a child with Down Syndrome? She's wearing tan shorts and she's... most likely the only child with Down Syndrome walking around alone." I was able to figure out that Maggie hadn't made it to the only beach access point that she knew about and before long I had a small group of strangers helping me search.

Thank you strangers.

My second concern was that we were very close to a highway. My anxiety was now growing that Maggie might be struck by a car, or inside a car with someone of ill intent.

I hopped in my car and began making my way towards the highway when I thankfully saw a shoeless Maggie being led by the hand by her sister's friend back towards the beach house. She had been sitting calmly in a small cafe patiently awaiting someone to come find her.

As to how she got to the cafe, we have a few theories.

1. Maggie may have wandered off of the porch and realized that the rocks hurt her bare feet and rather than risk the discomfort, just decided to stay on the smooth asphalt.
2. Maggie may have been wandered off of the porch for reasons we will never know, got somehow turned around, and simply lost her way. This might sound weird considering that she may have only gone thirty or so feet. But keep in mind that she was in an unfamiliar place and her eyesight isn't great.
3. Maggie had been watching the other teens take walks and thought to herself, "Hey, what am I doing hanging out with these little kids? I'm a teenager too! I'm taking myself a walk!"
4. This is the scariest one and may not have occured to me unless I lived in a town with a storied history of human trafficking, but Maggie may have been abducted. I've never kidnapped anyone before but I assume that a kid with special needs might be seen as an easy target.  It's possible, that her would-be abductor lured her off of the porch, realized that someone requiring as much care and attention as Maggie needs would fetch less than ideal market value, and booted her out of their van. I'm making an assumption that this would have been a van. But come on, we were all assuming van in this scenario right?
5. Finally, the stupid scenario. It's possilbe however unlikely that Maggie is a time travler. She may have warped to an alternate dimension in which she rescued a unicorn, fought off zombie hordes, and poured a perfect Manhatten for Fat Tony on the Simpsons.

Sadly and strangely, we will never know the answer. Her total absence from us was between 20 and 30 minutes.  It was a new kind of fear that I hope to never experience again. We are so happy to have her back safe and sound. Also, from now on I'm keeping one eye on her, and one on the provalone.

Cheers,

L&P

Kids Say the Darnedest... On No

My Crotch HURTS!!!!!

These are the words erupted from my two year old while in the dressing room with her mother and oldest sister while on a dress hunting expedition.  After getting a reaction from her audience she repeated the sentence over and over and yet still over with increasing volume.  Needless to say, she most likely learned the word "crotch" from yours truly.  I'm fairly certain that she heard use of this word when I was changing her diaper and was struggling to keep her hands away from the mess contained therein.  Of course I did not say this phrase directly.  I remember the conversation.

Me: Stop trying to touch your crotch kid.
Kid: Crotch?
Me: Oh shit, don't say crotch ok?
Kid: Shit crotch?
Me: Dammit, um... do you want to watch Paw Patrol?
Kid: PAW PATROL!
Me: That should fix it.

I'm still pretty certain that she does not know what most of the words that I said during this conversation mean save Paw Patrol.  Only that she knows that in using them she got a reaction.  One of the most enjoyable and terrifying things is watching my children learn.  They are always learning.  Especially, it would seem, when I am hoping that they are not paying attention.

This has lead to a sobering awareness of my own actions.  One day, I was having what I consider a fully justifiable temper tantrum.  I don't remember why.  The toddler asked, "Are you mad dad?"
This made me aware that I was being watched and that, unless I wanted to see me at my least cool echoed in my children then I needed to get my shit together.  I took a deep breath and tried to make this a teaching moment.  "Yes Merritt, daddy is mad."

She responded by telling me, "I'm Madder!" she then clenched her tiny fists, thrust them down at her sides, then stomped around our home yelling, "I'm Madder!!!" She wasn't, she was just doing what she saw dad do.  It occurred to me that this is probably what I looked like to her.  Wow, I look like a child when I'm angry.  This did much to alleviate the stress I was feeling and replaced it with a healthy dose of shame.  Vader like, the student had become the master.

One of my first observations about being a parent was that I finally understood how much my parents loved me.  I knew that it wasn't the first lesson that my children would teach me. I know this latest lesson is far from the last.  If we do our jobs right and I keep learning from them and they keep learning from me, then in a couple of decades, we'll see just shy of a half dozen new and improved versions of my wife and I but with a few of our less flattering habits and an increase in the things that we are proud that we do.

Of course, they are their own people and while we will have great influence over what kind of people they will turn into, they will be who they will be.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  As long as they don't turn out to be Beliebers.

Cheers
L&P