I keep meaning to get a "more enthusiastic" video. There have been times Shane has bounced around the room, flailing, singing, and generally causing Carrie and I's sides to split.
This video was more of a TV-zombified Shane. It's still funny!
Our disposal crapped out on us a week or two ago. It's been on my "to-do" list, but frequently fell from the top spot.
"I did some reading up on our model and found out it has a trip mechanism when it get's lodged. Circuit will trip and turn the system off. I found a hex large enough to get in there and turn the blades manually, cleared the obstruction, reset the trip, ran some water and turned it on. Started working without issue!
Just performed what they recommend as a monthly or so maintenance: 1/4 cup of baking soda (btw, need more baking soda, haha) in a half way full sink of warm water and then remove plunger and run the disposal as the mixture works it's way through. "
It is within my vociferous, teaching nature that I find myself wanting to qualify and explain whatever thoughts and utterances come from my mind onto whatever medium I am attempting to communicate to others through. Often, I have to consciously reflect and restrain myself from over-describing, supplying analogies, or looking to provide thoughts and commentary rather than leaving my audience to react and develop their own conclusions. I would nary speak of this except that there was a comedic (or at least an attempt at a), funny punchline throughout all of this that I wanted to convey.
Shane and I talked about it. I'm not mad (if anything, I'm amused!), but I do want Shane to learn that there are times things are broken and they can't be fixed.
This is not the case for Bubbles, though. I let Shane see him busted up, but I'll buy some modelling glue and resurrect him eventually. Sorry, Bubbles. No rest for the warjack!
My mother[Jama]is obsessed with going to Cafe Rio on Tuesdays. She starts talking about it on Tuesday mornings as she waits for it to be time to go. Then she gleefully sings "Cafe Rio" over and over again on the ride there and as we walk in. Today she asked her favorite hostess there how her love life is.
I couldn't help but smile after reading it.
The comments held more raw laughing material. I especially liked this one:
(After someone asks to go next Tuesday) Sure, Charlene! Fair warning, though that her singing voice isn't pretty. Today I threatened to quit taking her there if she wouldn't quit singing it.
I'm sure it's true for most parents: your child has THAT one toy that grates on your nerves like no other.
For Carrie, it's the singing toddler table which will randomly sing when no one's around. It's made her jump and/or suspect our house is haunted multiple times.
For me, it's the chainsaw.
Carrie brought home a box of toys from a friend shortly after we moved into our house. There were plastic tools, board games, and the loudest, most annoying, orange-and-blue toy chainsaw ever.
It was love at first sight. The saw revved it's way straight into my little boy's heart. Soon, Shane was chasing me around the house laughing maniacally. Back then, he didn't know how to start it. Whenever the noise stopped, he'd ask me to start it up again.
How's that for adding to your own misery?
I'm fine with the saw for the first couple of minutes.
When Roxy's involved, I'm fine with it for the first 20 seconds until all the barking starts.
Whatever time passes following is gritted teeth and a mental mantra of "He's having fun; let him get the energy out. He's having fun; let him get the energy out. He's hav..."
After my patience is exhausted, I hide the saw. My most successful hiding spots have lasted days.
Shane always spots it.
I have hidden the chainsaw on the top shelf of the garage between paper towel rolls. I have thrust it among hats and scarves and boxes at the top of the clothes closest. It's been under couches, in basement storage closest, on top of the refrigerator or in the backseat of the car.
In the garage: I tarried to take groceries out of the back of the car. Shane saw the saw.
In the closet: Carrie didn't shut the door all the way once. Shane saw the saw.
In the basement storage closet: Our basement flooded. While assessing damage is was put on top of a pile by someone. Shane saw the saw.
My son's eyesight is incredible. If there is a sliver of blue, orange, or gray plastic he picks up on it. It's as if he's constantly scanning. I can't help but be impressed.
It'd be easier to throw the saw away, but I won't. I know I'm the weak link in this scenario. There's nothing physically wrong with the saw and the dog (while she barks) seems to enjoy playing with Shane and it.
In the meantime, the saw hiding sub-plot will continue around here. Maybe I can "accidentally" leave it at Nana's house...
The day after the owl game, Carrie invented her own activity for Shane.
She drew an assortment of differently colored shapes, cut them out, and taped them up around the house.
She explained the rules to Shane and the hunt was on.
Round 1 was locating. Round 2 involved collecting them.
Carrie refined her mechanics during nap time. Instead of having shapes scattered everywhere, she grouped the same shapes in similar rooms. Then she went off to work and left everything set up for me to play with Shane later on. Thanks, Love!
Carrie took nearly 12 minutes of footage. She was playing with Shane and walking around throughout, so it may be bumpy at times. I know the average internet attention span is very short (I'm sucsecptible to it as well), so the first video was a quick cut down of the beginning of the game.
If you have the spare time and inclination, I've uploaded the raw footage here.
You'll see me slouching around drinking my coffee in the background on break. I was tickled by the game. My wife is very clever and a great mother. It's fun to sit back, rest, and watch.
Shane was running around the "TV room" while I supervised (aka "sat on the couch"). I was feeling like a tired, passive parent when I noticed something. Shane was talking to himself and he was using a lot of prepositions.
"In bed! Out of bed!" Shane said.
My brain clicked. Shane was acting out a book, "Bears in the Night!" by the Berenstains.
I started to give Shane paths to run.
"Shane, go around the toilet! Now, over the pillows! Under the desk!" I called.
Shane loved it. My son has never listened and followed that many directions from me at once.
It energized me. The game evolved.
"Shane! Go down the hall and down the stairs to the spooky door!" (A play on the book if you've read it).
My son made his own connection. Shane started yelling about owls. He hooted and bounced around.
I hooted back.
Shane ran back up the stairs. I had him back track through my directions until he was "back in bed, safe at last!" (A line from another of our favorite Berenstain Bear books).
Soon, Shane didn't want to go through all the directions: He wanted to scare owls.
The game was to sneak down the stairs and make a racket on the landing.
We scared countless owls.
I was thrilled for the first 10 to 15 trips, but my voice (and patience) got tired with all my 'scared' hooting performances. I started trying to come up with new ideas and variations to keep myself entertained.
Shane need monster, owl-scaring, stomping shoes obviously!
Shane was ecstatic.
Then, when I got tired of going up and down the steps, I convinced Shane to take his stuffed fire ferret, Pabu, with him. He wanted to keep his hands free to bang on walls and make the largest owl-scaring racket possible, so I shoved Pabu in his shirt. My knees were saved!
Later in the day, Roxy joined in the fun. She didn't know what was going on, but people going up and down stairs fit her description of entertainment. I used her as a 'reset' timer. I told Shane that he was so loud and Roxy was so scary that we had to wait for the owls to return. We'd wait 15 to 30 seconds (which was as long as I could dissuade him from hooting) and then the game would begin again...and again....and again!
Shane woke up this morning and immediately asked to scare owls. The game is a winner. Now, I have to survive it! Ha ha!
Last Thursday, while Carrie was at work, Shane and I invited Daniel over to play. Our doorbell rang a few minutes later. Jessica and Daniel strode in! Michael came shortly thereafter.
Shane and Daniel played while the adults watched and talked. They played so well together the one black mark on the evening came as a shock: Shane bit Daniel.
I was very firm. I stuck Shane in his room, said "We don't bite," and left him in time-out to check on Daniel. Daniel's parents vetted him, but didn't see any bite marks (they wouldn't until the next bath).
Shane served his time-out. We talked before he came out and I made him apologize to Daniel. It was a little bit of a mystery then. I was worried that A) my son was biting and B) he just bit his best little friend.
More on that later. The rest of the night of the first bite was incident free.
Daniel's mom left and only the dads and boys remained. Shane and Daniel began running around again as if nothing had happened. Michael and I watched, talked, and occasionally threw a stuffed animal or assisted with sharing.
After a while, I pulled out my new board game, Ticket to Ride. To my pleasant surprise, Michael suggested we should play while the boys watched TV.
I took him up on the offer.
The boys plopped on the couch and the adults sat on the floor. Ironic, I know. I felt a little guilty about plugging the boys in, but they snuggled in and shared a blanket well.
It wasn't all TV time, though. My conscience was assuaged when Michael had to make a business call. I took the boys upstairs and mayhem erupted. Whatever energy they saved on the couch burst forth in little boys running, jumping, and climbing all over!
Daniel and Shane started leaping off the back of Shane's bed together.
I only felt comfortable taking a short video. It was hilarious, but the boys kept jumping further and further. I swear a caught a foot once or twice to keep someone from running and rocketing off the other end of the bed!
By the time Michael's work call was done, I was tired and ready for the boys to watch another episode of something. They plopped back down on the couch together. Our board game resumed!
The boys did not stay on the couch (being little boys). Eventually they became fascinated with our game and we had to wrangle, entertain, and maintain simultaneously.
We did finish and I hope we can do it again sometime. Eventually, I want Shane playing, too!
Monday, Carrie and I messaged Daniel's parents across the street. We decided to meet for dinner. Carrie cooked (always nice!).
The boys had a lot of fun before dinner, though...
Jessica's aunt is a Craigslist queen. She found a pair of motorized scooters for $25. Daniel got first pick since they were his. Thankfully, Shane wasn't picky.
Daniel had a lead thumb. Shane was a little more hesitant at first, but they both got the hang of it ludicrously quick. You would have thought potty training would be simple compared to learning how to drive.
The learning process was neat to watch (and not on film). Jessica pointed out that both boys started with both legs splayed out wide for balance. It was like they were afraid to put them down on the foot rests lest they not be ready if needed. That changed as they gained confidence.
The boys also reacted to turning around different. When stuck, Shane planted his feet, stood up, and heaved the toy car over. Daniel remained seated to do a more gradual kick turn. He also tried to steer and give a little gas towards the end.
It was a lot of fun before a fun dinner and little boy playtime. Roxy came, too, but she and Manga (Daniel's golden retriever) wouldn't settle. They had to take turns in the crate or outside.
Toward the end, Jessica's aunt dropped by with her youngest.
TV is a wonderful thing for allowing adults to eat and talk (when used sparingly).
It was a fun way to spend Martin Luther King Jr. Day.
After I wrote my firsttwo posts, I asked Pop to check my facts.
He shot me back a quick email that piqued my curiosity.
"Both of my dad's (Vernon's) parents were school teachers. His dad was also a school administrator. So he usually was both a principal and a teacher at the same time. Vernon's dad got his college degree in teaching on the same day that Vernon got his degree in mechanical engineering (I have a copy of a newspaper picture with the two of them in cap and gown holding their diplomas). Vernon's dad was about 48 or so when he got his teaching degree. In the WW2 time frame, they let you teach school in small town Nebraska without a college degree. Both Vernon's parents were working to get their degrees, primarily in summer school over quite a few years. Vernon's dad had some college from a small school in Nebraska but quit going to school to work. He later started going to summer school at the Univ of Nebraska in Lincoln to finish his degree. Vernon's mother was still working to get her college degree when she died at age 54. Vernon's grandmother was also a teacher which was unusual for a woman to have a college degree in the early 1900s. Vernon's sister Mary was a teacher. Vernon's sister Ellen was a substance abuse counselor (kind of like a teacher). So you have a lot of teaching DNA in the lineup. Just some trivia for you. Love, Dad"
Shane may not find this interesting, but I found it fascinating. I'm really glad I wrote those posts, because they opened up some good conversations and I learned a lot.
I knew about Grandpa Vern's service in Japan after WW2 (he had a sword he won in a card game!). I didn't know that he was on MacArthur's staff. He got promoted to be in charge of a Cryptographic Distribution center because he aced an Army intelligence test. The army offered to send him to OCS, but Grandpa Vern decided he never wanted to leave Nebraska again. He got a job at a watch factory (yet he made fuses for guided missiles?!?) and then switched to work at Cushman when he would have had to transfer out of NE (the factory was relocating).
Very cool stuff. I'm glad Pop showed me.
On a side note, I found some of the newspaper adds to be funny. There was nothing jaw-dropping, but I scanned them in if you're curious.
Roxy rolled on her back and Shane noticed eight protruding bumps on the underside of her belly. Ever curious as the boy is, he started to examine the small lines of bumps. Bravely he extended and hand and decide to poke one. This was followed quickly by a look of surprise.
"Those are sharp!"
-----------------------------------------
Carrie felt mischievous. She gave Shane a pretzel from Jama's Texas trash mix. This was a special mix, because Jama felt she'd over-done the spices. Shane was a fan of pretzels to begin with. So why should he think that this one pretzel, that was given to him by the mommy he loved and trusted, be any different? Shane took a bite. He chewed slowly.
I've been back since Christmas (it was my gift to myself). I am limiting myself to no coffee after morning and trying to stick with herbal teas after I get home.
There are always things going on, but how about I tie up a loose end?
I never told the resolution of:
The Volvo!
The car is back in our garage.
I know that I mentioned a "Lemon Law" last time. What the website doesn't tell you is that law only applies to cars less than 18 months old. Carrie waited on hold for a couple of hours to hear that. I double and triple-checked the government website to see if I missed that notation somewhere, but it was not to be found.
The dealership claimed that there was a 'rogue node' for Sirius FM that was a known issue. The node wouldn't shut down at random intervals and it could cause the battery to drain. Carrie was furious and upset throughout the explanation. I had to admit, it fit all my suspicions. Manufacturers sometimes put some extra capabilities into their cars standard and charge extra to "turn them on." It also fit my electronic "needle in a haystack" theory.
So far, the car has run well. It could be that this dealership was right all along and the other dealerships were the idiots. They claimed it was a "known issue" so I don't know why it was unknown elsewhere.
Time will tell if they were blowing smoke or if the car is trustworthy again.
Have I mentioned how clever my boy is? I'm not speaking as only a proud parent: I have evidence.
Shane wanted to play with scissors. However, Daddy had stuck the scissors up in the window sill to prevent little boys from cutting little fingers when Daddy wasn't paying attention.
That wasn't about to stop Shane.
I watched him as he pulled over a chair and climbed up. He couldn't reach.
Shane pulled over another chair and tried to stand on that one. He still couldn't reach.
Next, Shane unbuttoned a seat cushion. He stacked it on a chair and tried to climb up. The scissors continued to elude him.
Shane struggled to unbutton another seat cushion. There were some frustrated tears, but I didn't stop him or offer help. I sensed learning was afoot.
The third cushion came off and Shane stacked it with the others. Now he had a new problem: he couldn't climb up! His booster seat was too tall.
Eventually, the light bulb went off. Shane pushed over another chair to climb up on his pile of cushions. He had fingertips on the window sill when he started to fall.
Luckily, I was there all along. I caught him and gave him the scissors, so we could cut some paper.
However annoying the lesson learned may later be, I'm proud of my son for using his noggin to solve a problem. I'll have to hide the scissors better from now on!
Actually, he's been there for the past month or so. It started one week with an incredulous "You put him to bed in underwear?"
We haven't bought diapers since November 20th and we've got a bunch left.
It's been great.
There have been a few times Shane has said "Uh-oh. I think pee-pee is coming out!" Most of those exclamations meant a sprinkle in the underpants and the rest was safely deposited in the toilet.
So why has my son decided to poop in his pants twice?
My reflexes were slow. I'm out of practice. Tuesday, Shane stopped playing, looked at me, and by the time I recognized the poop face it was too late.
That was the second poop.
The first one took us totally by surprise. Sunday, Shane wanted to watch what Carrie was doing on the computer. He watched quietly and then looked up. "Mommy, I pooped in my pants!"
Color me baffled. I don't know why Shane decided to do the deed.
What was the function of the behavior? Was Shane seeking attention? Did he miss the sensation? Or did he not want to stop whatever he was doing to take the time? Maybe Shane relies on us too heavily to assign potty breaks instead of self-monitoring?
I don't know. I hope it's not about to become a habit.
I do know that we want to avoid unintended consequences. The first incidence was messy. I took Shane up to the bath to clean his butt and underwear. I didn't want him to think pooping his pants meant a free trip to the bath, though. He may have considered that a reward. I filled the bath my 1/2" to 1" of cold water.
Shane was not amused.
I had Shane sit in it a couple of times for a short second or two. I wasn't out to torture my son. I dried Shane off quickly and dressed him warmly afterward. I wanted to A) clean off the poop, B) avoid a fun reinforcer (warm bath) and C) if the method I chose to do so was clearly un-fun that was okay, too.
Shane wet his pants at Nana's today, so we're not out of the woods on this one yet. I guess my son wants to keep us guessing.
School is a place of wonder and excitement for a three year old.
There are big classrooms, long halls to run down, and SCHOOL BUSES!
Oh, the SCHOOL BUSES! What joy, what joy!
When Carrie drops Shane off with me on her way to work he has a blast. The kids love him, too.
"Mr. M! Is that your son!?!?"
Shane gets a ton of "He's so cute!" comments, too.
I eat it up. I love watching him run up and down the hall with a few kids and taking him to visit colleagues.
Last Thursday was a special treat: Shane got to board a couple of buses. He would have liked to have jumped on "all of them."
Shane is A-OK with how we have scheduled Carrie's job to coincide with mine. He crawled under a couch in the main office today (and the front office ladies loved it!).
Roxy loves to visit Nana and Pop's with Shane. There's another dog to play with, a big back yard, and all sorts of new rooms and hiding places to explore.
Friday, Indy shoved her way into Jama's bedroom and unlocked a new world of fun/trouble for her to get into.
I thought it was hilarious.
Roxy is a weird cross between a bigger dog than you expect and a smaller dog than you expect.
She looks really funny (and LONG) when she splays her back legs and fully stretches out.
Afterward, I...uh...may have been a bit of a "bully" as my wife put it. I took a balloon and tied it around Roxy's collar. I fully expected some mayhem, but she was perfectly content to sit and chew on the string at first.
Roxy may bark at balloons from here on out!
Nana and Carrie did not approve. Nana pointed out that Roxy may scare a kid with a balloon one day.
I still think it was hilarious. I'm not planning on doing it again. I did it once, I got it on tape, and if I did keep doing it and Roxy was scared I would be a bully.
I don't think she was really scared, though. She has a tendency to run to trouble.
I have ample evidence.
The dog could go anywhere in the house, but she makes a point of finding Shane when he's got that darn chainsaw. If it's half-cute, half-obnoxiously loud. I let them tear around, but my sanity only allows it to go on for so long.
It's been a month and a half that Roxy's been with us. She's a lot of work, but a lot of fun, too!
Growing up, Nana’s rule was “Volunteer, work, or go to
Summer School.”
The summers of 8th and 9th grade I
found myself volunteering at the local library. I got to sit at a desk a couple
of hours a week and sign kids up for the Summer Reading Program. In May at the
end of 10th grade, I wore a suit and went around the local mall
asking for applications from stores. I would have kick-started my career in
retail, but the phone never rang.
Thankfully, I did get a job that summer. It was a
game-changer, too.
Occasionally,
you’re going to see a new kind of post. It won’t be about Shane; it won’t be
about Roxy. It won’t be about anything current,
either. It’ll be about me. A part of me says “That’s so narcissistic!”
I’m a person like anybody else, and it’s more than a little premature to start
planning my autobiography. However, one of the reasons I
started this blog was to hold memories. If my time comes before Shane is old
enough to ask me some of these questions himself, I figured I’d have a few
things chronicled out. The first post is going to be about
my job history. The reason is twofold:
1)I
asked my parents about their career paths when I was a kid. Well, at least I
asked Nana or she started volunteering information (I’m not 100% sure which!).
I think it’s a natural question as a kid hits the teenage years and starts to
think “What in the world am I going to do with myself?”
“What did my parents do? How does
that compare to where I’m at?” may not be guaranteed to be the next questions,
but I expect they’re not far after.
2)Your
job may not define you, but it does change you. That means stories! Understanding
where a person comes from can tell you a lot about them. Even the most menial
job can be a learning experience, humbling, and a fun tale (“Wait…you did
WHAT?!”)
Everything seemed so permanent to
me as a kid. My dad had his job, my mom was mom, and my friends’ parents did
what they always did. Somehow everyone knew what they were going to be, because
they were adults. I think it was Bill and Dan’s dad that first broke some of
that illusion for me. He had tales of when a gun store he worked at was robbed
(full with the owner grabbing a machine gun) and of fixing cars underneath a
tree.
At first, Shane and I played catch. Then I threw a ball over his head. He was astounded as it rebounded off the door and back to me. From that point on I was no longer necessary. Shane spent the next twenty minutes chucking projectiles at the basement door.
After New Year's, Shane got to have a play date with his friend, Daniel. I'm so glad we got to know his family across the street! My family became tied to Bill and Dan's family when I was three. You never know: this could be the start of a lifelong friendship for Shane as it was for me.
It helps that Carrie and I like Jessica and Michael, too! One of these weekends I'll get him over to play chess, x-wing, or my new Christmas board game "A Ticket to Ride."
After spending Christmas with my family, Carrie proceeded to work the next two days. It wasn't at the top of her Christmas list, but you do what you have to do.
Once she finished, we were clear to pack our bags and drive south to visit Grandma and Grandpa. My parents helped by watching Roxy for the weekend. I helped by deciding which Wawa to gas up at.
Shane was thrilled. I think we've given him the misconception that Christmas is a week-long festivity instead of a day. He was eager to start unwrapping upon arrival.
Saturday morning the ripping and tearing frenzy began. Shane's a pro.
I took a few pics of the process, but Grandpa is a photography buff. I figured I could easily get some shots from him later.
After presents, Carrie's brother, Chris, and his family came over for lunch. My wife performed her Super Aunt transformation and immediately started entertaining.
Ironically, I don't have many pictures of Shane and his cousins, because they showed up right before nap time. Chris' wife, Rachel, said that all of their children fell asleep in the car on the way over or they would have wanted a nap, too. Then, they packed up after lunch and were on their merry way before Shane woke up (probably to fall asleep in the car again on the way home).
I was sad that Shane didn't get more cousin time. He may have been jealous of Sophia, though. She takes to Carrie very quickly. Carrie reciprocates and then they're off. I ended up tending to Baby Nathaniel and Noah was content bouncing between us or on his own.
After the cousins left, Shane woke up and he got to monopolize Grandma, Grandpa, and all the treasures that their house stores.
When Sunday afternoon came, we loaded up to brave travel traffic. Carrie was scheduled to work Monday morning! Talk about an unfortunate holiday schedule, but we managed to find time to visit everyone. People always make time for what they really value. Family should rate near the top. I prefer to visit family for holidays and vacation instead of going somewhere fancy or abroad.
I was going to write something more, but it's late. It was profound. It was elegant.
In my head at least. Now it's forgotten mush.
Christmas 2013 was a grand time and we got to spend it with family! It's going to be tougher to make both families fit when my parents move, so I'm glad we're making the most of it for Shane while both sets of grandparents are in driving distance.
Today was the first day after break. It was a busy rush trying to pick up all the different balls that I had rolling weeks before. Deadlines don't grow more distant over vacation. I was glad to get back in the saddle again.
Today was also the first day I've seen school canceled due to it being too cold outside. I am a-okay with getting another day off, too!
It's currently 10 degrees and feels like -10 according to weather.com.
That "arctic vortex" is pushing through.
Several of our surrounding counties called it off during the school day; one county was closed today for 42 degrees and light rain (the wimps).
I figured there was a 50/50 chance of school being cancelled. Everyone else was doing it, and we have a lot of elementary students who walk to school.
Since we're not used to negative wind chills many of the younger students from less affluent families may not have the gear to be out for long. For a one day record low, it doesn't seem worth the risk to me either.
Then the cynic in me wants to point out another reason to close: lawsuits. It seems like everyone in this county has a lawyer friend or a Senator or a representative of the House in the family around here. Public buses spot ads for lawyers who will "fight for you." There definitely a segment of sue-happy crusaders looking for a cause or (for the more disreputable ones) a chance to milk someone's mistake.
The vast majority of parents aren't like that, but believe you me they are out there. Once, I had one advocate sit in on an IEP for an old student. I was told my Masters in Special Education was worth nothing and asked what qualified me to teach her client's child.
I was stunned.
The parent and advocate both told me they thought I did a fine job with the student moments before. I was told the student loved me and they appreciated the progress he made before they turned on the tape recorder and proceeded to try and ramrod us.
They smiled and shook hands when they left. Nothing personal. Twas only a crusade to change the way my state looks at education and it didn't matter how well my school happened to do things. In a way, I bet the parent had mixed feelings. Her child received a fair shake and the help needed, but if he hadn't she may have had a stronger case to push upwards.
It's an imperfect system.
Who cares right now? I am getting a day off tomorrow due to it being chilly out.
I ventured into the wilds of a seemingly normal Virginia neighborhood to try and document this rare and extremely secretive ritual.
The toddler who is potty training is taught that their pee has magical properties. In the early stages, the tribal leader (hereby referred to as a "Nana") draws a symbol in the potty with a washable marker. The marker is reserved for this purpose and this purpose alone.
The toddler, excited by the imagery and newness of the experience, loses all hesitation to use the toilet.
There is much rejoicing when the image disappears under a stream of urine. Peeing has become fun.
Simple parents like myself have spit in toilets ("Pop the bubbles!") and dropped small, flush-able items like Cheerios before.
Magic Pee takes it to a new creative level!
Once a toddler is 'indoctrinated' they earn the right to doodle their own scribbles in the potty.
If done early enough, the toddler will have no recollection in adulthood that they used to enjoy making artwork in a commode.
My name is Mike and I used to draw in toilets. I did not know until my son followed in my footsteps.
Nana specializes in trying to make little kids eager to do what she wants instead of fighting it.
A record chill is hitting the US with an estimated 50% of Americans bracing for sub-zero temperatures. Whether or not it happens that way (it is only a forecast) my house became a casualty.
Carrie and I brought Shane home for his nap a little after 1:00 PM Saturday. He woke up at 4:00 PM and I brought him downstairs.
I don't remember why I went into the garage, but I do remember when my first step went squish.
I absorbed what I could in the following five seconds. My next action was to jump back inside and shout upstairs, "Carrie! I need you!"
I trusted my wife would follow and find Shane as I vaulted down the stairwell. I turned off the main water supply and rushed back out to figure out what I was looking at.
Carrie took over Shane-care and I began investigating. I snapped some very shaky video (sorry) as I found the leak, assessed the damage, and started to clean up.
I was still cleaning out the garage when Carrie opened the door. She'd found more water in the basement.
Thankfully, the water downstairs was contained. It didn't quite reach the new flooring. There must have been a small crack in the concrete that allowed some water to seep in.
The good news is that most of the water flowed outward and not into the cache of assorted junk and forgotten things lining the garage. If anything, the "Challenge of the Hour" was a good excuse to get some cleaning done. There was wet dryer lint accumulating everywhere! That's another project that got moved up my to-do list.
But I digress.
The emergency plumber we called for the flood was $200, but we called back Sherry for $270. The cost was more, but she was the one who figured out our water main was leaking last time. I'm willing to pay extra for quality and good communication skills.
She wasn't available to come until Sunday morning, though. She was out working on Saturday until past midnight. When Carrie called to request a plumber, the company said they were so busy they were referring people to other companies. The other companies were also busy and some of them were referring people right back to them! Consider it a victory for the cold weather.
Sherry found the problem right where I thought it would be. She peeled back some insulation and a pipe was disconnected.
"Here's your problem," she said. "This isn't soldered on right."
There was a secondary pipe coming out of the supply to the washing machine. It looked like someone had expected to put a small sink into the garage at a future date that never came. Two of the connecting pipes separated. There was a nice ring of solder on the smaller pipe where someone clearly miscalculated. They soldered just above where the pipes connected instead of sealing the pipes together.
My bet: after I hit the button to shut the garage door Friday night, it hit the rake Shane knocked over, and reversed course to open (safety feature). Then the 10 degree air whistled into the garage to make it cold enough for the pipe to freeze. Finally, it thawed as the day warmed and the pipes separated and started spewing H2O during Shane's nap.
As a kid, I always figured life got easier as you got older. There would be no more school; no more learning boring things. I'd get a job, the work would have purpose, a paycheck, and I could spend my off hours doing exciting things (or even un-exciting things like playing video games, reading books, and relaxing). I knew kids would be a challenge, but adulthood was going to be the start of a golden age! If I kept working, I'd be able to earn more, live more comfortably, and survive until retirement.
Guess what? Life isn't like that. There's always something more to do, somewhere else to go, and someone else that needs something.
It sure keeps it from being boring. I said it at the end of the basement shaky-cam video "it's the Challenge of the hour. Let's see how we meet it. Love you [Carrie]!!"
I believe challenges will come. Period.
What's important is how you meet them. Don't panic*. Stay positive. Focus on making progress and learning something in the process. I actually enjoy the troubleshooting. I like coming up with theories and then talking to the experts if I have to call them in. I don't enjoy the bill so much, but you do what's necessary. The learning can be really interesting. I try to remember details to get a good story out of the situation later.
I believe challenges are how God tests us, grows us, and leads/loves us. It's what keeps me calm and gives me hope.
In other news, I wonder if I should have been a plumber. Seems like they get a lot of work and can demand a decent wage as the water spouts.
*nerd reference: I can't say "Don't panic" without thinking of a certain 'guide.' Plus, "Fear is the mind-killer." Kudos if you catch both of those.
.jpg "Shane can't smile on cue worth a darn. It's natural or nothing (and good luck catching him still enough it won't blur). I pulled the table over to a couch and told Shane to \"make a bridge\" and that did the trick for this shot!")
.jpg "Daniel's a neat kid. I hope he and Shane will grow up as friends. He's a year younger than Shane, but about the same size (very fortunately).")
