Man

So, it appears as if I'm a real man. I built Slash's big-boy bed today. Ok, built might be sort of a strong word. It's not like I whittled it out of one piece of Bolivian wormwood or anything, but I DID put it together. That's right, we didn't pay the extra $30 for set-up. Buoyed by my successful re-assembling of Axl's crib, I said that I would just put the bed together myself when it arrived.

Here is the evolution of the bed:

In the packaging...

Laid out on the floor...

Starting to take shape...

Sides attached? Check.

Slat roll screwed in? Check.

Bunk board ok? Check.

Robot sheets? Check.

Slash enjoying the new bed? Check.

Please

I just had the following conversation with Slash:

Slash: Daddy, make me another puck (out of these bendy tubes).

Me: Make me another puck what?

Slash: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college.

Me: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college what?

Slash: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college so I can play ice hockey.


Me: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college so you can play ice hockey what?

Slash: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college so I can play ice hockey in my class.


Me: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college so you can play ice hockey in your class what?

Slash: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college so I can play ice hockey in my class in the ice rink.


Me: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college so you can play ice hockey in your class in the ice rink what?

Slash: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college so I can play ice hockey in my class in the ice rink.


Me: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college so you can play ice hockey in your class in the ice rink what?

Slash: That's it.

Me: Anything you want to add to the end of that sentence?

Slash: No.

Me: Nothing you want to add?

Slash: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college so I can play ice hockey in my class in the ice rink nothing.

Me: Are you forgetting anything?

Slash: No.

Me: How do you ask nicely.
Slash: Make me another puck for me to bring back to college so I can play ice hockey in my class in the ice rink nothing pleeeease.

Me: Good enough.

Good times.

Father Of The Year

So, I'd like to thank the little people...

I think my actions over the last two days warrant my receiving a Father Of The Year award. All I need is to find an organization that would like to give it to me.

Yesterday, after taking both Boys with me to the car wash to have The Wife's car totally cleaned (inside and out) for the first time since we got it, I took The Boys to Wegmans. We did our shopping and got back to the car. Just to set the scene, Axl was sitting in the seat and Slash was sitting in the cart with the food. So I set the cart against the car at an angle so it wouldn't move, unloaded all the groceries and took Slash out to put him into his car seat:

Me: Hold on one second Axl and I'll be back to put you in the car.

I take Slash out and walk to his door:

Axl: Daddy.

Me: Hold on a second Axl, I'm putting Slash in the car.

Axl: (a little more intense) Daddy...

Me: What!?!

So I look behind me and there is Axl in the cart, starting to roll away down the parking lot.

Me: HOLY SH...I'm coming!

Holding Slash, I run out and grab the cart before it can totally get past our car and really roll away, you know, towards oncoming cars looking for spots.

Yup, Father Of The Year.

This afternoon, once again, The Boys just weren't napping. I was exhausted because last night, for the second night in a row, Slash was up for two hours in the middle of the night complaining that his stomach hurt (he had a bad stomach ache last week and an x-ray revealed that he was pretty constipated). So I was NOT in the mood for shenanigans, but unfortunately, The Boys were. I'll skip the almost two hours of fighting with them. I finally put Slash in the crib in his old room and told him that if he got out of his crib, I was going to throw one of his babies in the garbage.

That's right, you heard me. I told my adorable 3 year-old that I would throw one of his babies, which he loves more than anything else, away. I thought that would get him to sleep.

A few minutes later, I heard a door, so I went upstairs and into his room. He was standing in the middle of the room and looked at me and grinned:

Me: That's it Slash. What'd I tell you would happen if you got out of bed? Baby's going in the garbage.

Slash: No Daddy!

I turned and went downstairs with Slash hot on my heels. Axl, hearing the commotion, came out of his room and followed, supporting his brother. I grabbed baby off the couch, put it in a plastic grocery bag, and walked to the garbage. Slash is standing there, tears streaming down his face, screaming "No" and trying to hold the top of the garbage can down. Axl is trying to stop me too:

Me: Axl, stay out of it.

Axl: NO!

Me: Do you want Puppy to join Baby?

Axl: No!

Me: Then move.

Axl: No!

Me: Okay, say bye to Puppy (I grab Puppy and put it in the bag with Baby). See what's happening now guys?

Yup. I put them in the garbage.

HOWEVER, I gave myself an out. Both of them were in a plastic bag so they did not get gross. Meanwhile, The Wife was sitting in the kitchen watching the whole thing. After The Boys went back upstairs to their rooms, I took Baby and Puppy out of the garbage and his them in the closet (you know, R. Kelly's room). Don't worry, they got them back before bed tonight. I'm not a TOTAL monster.

Not my proudest moments.

Like I said, Father Of The Year.

Good times.

Lyrics

So, we were listening to "The Boys Are Back In Town" in the car this afternoon and I was singing along to the last verse:

Me: Friday night they'll be dressed to kill, down at Dino's Bar and Grill. The drinks will flow and blood will spill and if the boys want to fight, you better let 'em.

Axl: Daddy, if we want to fight you better let us.

Me: No way dude, I'm not going to let you guys fight.

Axl: Uh huh. You have to let me and Slash fight each other.

Slash: (laughing) We're going to fight. I'm going to fight you Axl!

Me: No fighting.

Axl: They said they're going to kill. That's not nice. You shouldn't sing that Daddy.

Me: No, they said they'd be dressed to kill.

Slash: Daddy?

Me: What?

Slash: How do dresses kill?

Me: Dresses don't kill. They said they'd be dressed to kill.

Axl: What does THAT mean?

Me: It means they'll be dressed nicely.

Axl: Whay didn't they just say they'll be dressed nicely?

Me: Because that doesn't really rhyme with Dino's Bar and Grill?

Axl: What's a bar and grill?

Me: It's a restaurant.

Axl: Why didn't they just say restaurant?

Me: Because not much rhymes with restaurant and because I think The Boys from the song would be more at home in a bar and grill than a restaurant.

Slash: Daddy?

Me: Yes Slashy?

Slash: (something unintelligible).

Me: What?

Slash: (exasperated) Where is Dino's Bar and Grill?

Me: I don't know.

Slash: (impatiently) Where is it?!?!

Me: Dublin.

Slash: Nooooo.

Me: New York?

Slash: NO!

Me: Um, Topeka, Kansas?

Slash: It's in Kansas?

Me: Yup. Dino's Bar and Grill is in Topeka, Kansas.

Slash: Oh.

Axl: I'm bored with this conversation, make the song louder.

Good times.

Naps

So, we were sitting in the kitchen this morning and I mentioned something to Slash about Axl starting kindergarten next year. I don't remember what I said, or why I said it, but this is the conversation that followed:

Axl: (very excited) Slash, you know what the best part about kindergarten is?

Slash: What Axl?

Axl: You get to take a week off (mind you, this is a kid who right now only goes to day care twice a week and essentially has a week off every week). NOt just a day, a WHOLE week! And when you're in kindergarten you don't nap anymore.

Me: (oh man, please don't stop napping...) True, but you still nap at home on the weekends.

Slash: I'm going to be really tired in college.

Axl: In kindergarten, first grade, second grade, third grade all the way to college, you don't nap.

Me: Actually, a lot of college kids DO nap.

Axl: No, I mean during the day. College kids nap at night, not during the day.

I started to try and explain why college kids might nap during the day but thought that would just open the door to more questions, so I just shut-up.

Good times.

POST SCRIPT

So, The Boys pulled shenanigans and did not nap today. We finally let them stay downstairs and I put a video on for them. As I was in here typing up the "Lyrics" post, their firefighter video ended and I went in to start something else. This is what I found:

Good times.

Earfox

So, we were eating dinner tonight and the following conversation occurred:

Slash: Earfox.

Me: (Hmmm, that sounded a lot like the F-bomb) What Slashy?

Slash: Earfox.

Me: (to The Wife) Do you have any idea what he's talking about?

The Wife: Nope.

Me: What's earfox Slash?

Slash: Earfox is a kind of carrot.

Me: Oh. Do you want a carrot?

Slash: No. Daddy, make me another crunchy bagel or I'll fight you in the eye.

Me: Whoa there fella. First of all, I don't even know what that means. And second, that doesn't sound very nice.

Axl: It means that he'll get a sword and he'll use the sword to bash and poke you in the eye and then he'll get in your eye and jump out.

Slash: No, that's not what it means Axl. It means I'll hit him in the eye and punch him in the eye.

Me: Nobody's doing anything to my eye.

Slash: (laughing) I'm just joking Daddy. (getting serious again) Now make me another crucnhy bagel! Pleeeeeease?

Good times.

Jobs

So, I took The Boys to the playgym at the JCC on Friday morning/afternoon. At one point, Axl and Slash stopped playing and started coloring at one of the tables and were speaking to the young woman who works there. She's only about 22 and and had mentioned on a previous trip that she was looking for a new place to live. I noticed her looking at apartment listings:

Me: Looking at apartments? Where are you looking?

Playgym Girl: Oh, I'm waiting until I have a job.

Axl: Daddy doesn't have a job.

Me: (uncomfortable laugh) Ha ha, yeah, thanks Axl.

Playgym Girl: Your Daddy's taking care of you now, that's his job.

Me: Thanks Playgym Girl.

Playgym Girl: (to me) Yeah, I'm looking for a job so when I find a more full-time job, I'll look for apartments.

Axl: Daddy's looking for a job too!

Me: Alright buddy, she gets it. I don't have a job.

HOWEVER...

Later on, I got a call from a company I interviewed with a week and a half ago and got an offer! I am really excited and relieved to have that weight off my shoulder and am looking forward to starting in a few weeks.

Good times.

Pride

So, when The Wife and I first started having kids, I said that I wanted to outlaw swearing in the house. We were brought up in VERY different households: to this day, I can't even say "fart" in front of my mom without getting a look and a disapproving "Good Times Dad!" whereas my wife grew up in a house in which swearing, while maybe not encouraged, was certainly much more common (which isn't to say that I didn't swear a lot as a kid, I just didn't do it in the house).

The Wife did not like my "no swearing rule" (you're SO conservative, blah blah blah). I told her that I don't care if the kids swear when they're in junior high school, but I didn't want a call from the kindergarten teacher telling us that Axl dropped the F-bomb in class. In return, and I think out of spite, The Wife said that fine, I could no longer say "That's what she said," which had become a staple. That Wife argued that "That's what she said" would be equally inappropriate to come out of a kindergarteners mouth (though I think she did it to punish me). While I SORT of agreed, I think I would swell with pride if a kindergarten teacher called us and said "Mr. and Mrs. Good Times Dad, Axl is doing very well, but today when I told him not to to put his finger in a dirty hole, he replied that that's what she said."

For the last few years, every time someone said anything to which I could have said "That's what she said," I would just mumble/hum a sound under my breath that matched up with "That's what she said."

Last week, we had some friends over for dinner with their kids, and Dad Friend dropped a couple of "That's what she saids" and emboldened by our company, I did the same. I MIGHT have said one or two over the weekend, but I can't remember.

Yesterday and today, Axl said a few random "That's what she saids" and of course, monkey-see, monkey-do, so did Slash.

Which brings us to tonight. We were finishing putting The Boys in bed, and they were sort of arguing over the projector (they use a white noise machine that also has a little projector, and they take turns choosing which of three pictures it projects on the ceiling). No joke, the following conversation occurred:

Slash: (sounding exasperated) Daddy, make it big.

Me: It IS big Slash.

Slash: No Daddy, make it bigger!

Axl: That's what she said!

Me: Um, Axl...

Slash: Daddy, I want it big.

Axl: That's what she said.

Atta boy, Axl. Thankfully, The Wife was already out of the room and didn't hear it.

Good times

Olympics

So, a few nights ago, The Boys, in the midst of Olympics fever, were running around playing their version of ice hockey. I was trying to get them upstairs to get them ready for bed when suddenly, Slash ran up to me and said:

Slash: I'm American and you're French.

Me: Sacre bleu! No way dude, I don't want to be French. I'll be anyone else.

Slash: Who?

Me: I don't know. I'll be Canadian, or Finnish, or Russian, or Swedish, or Czech.

Slash: Who's Finnish?

Me: Someone from Finland.

Slash: You're Finland.

Me: (not having any idea how a Finnish person speaks ) Ja (pronounced Ya), I'm from Finland! That's all I've got because I have no idea what a Finn sounds like or says. Come on, let's go upstairs.

We proceed to go upstairs and he keeps telling me I'm a Finn. As we get upstairs, I tell Slash to go in his room and start getting ready and that I was going to put on sweat pants.

Me: (talking like the Terminator) Ah'll be bock. I don't know why I'm talking like Ahnold Schwarzenegger, Ahm from Finalnd.

Good times.

Interference

(WARNING: This post contains some language and/or information that some members of our family might not want to read. If you think you might be one of those people, don't read any further. If not...)

(Editor's note: The Wife made me remove part of this post, and she wants the whole post removed, so we'll see how long it lasts. She says it's embarrassing, so we'll see what happens...)

(Editor's Note: I lost out and The Wife made me remove the post. Maybe it'll reappear someday...)

Good times.