My youngest, Little Pink, has introduced a game of make-believe that can only be named, and described, as “Baby Pig”. Essentially, she takes to all fours and crawls around the apartment emitting little whimpers and whines which are, I assume, meant to resemble what an actual baby pig would vocalize. During this time, she will only answer when addressed as “Baby Pig” and she will only perform in such a manner befitting a baby pig.
I have no idea where this game came from or why it is so entertaining to her. This is not an occasional foray into Baby Pig-land, but an oftentimes lengthy sojourn that lasts for hours. This may lead to a young children’s book I am kicking around called “Spending a Day with Baby Pig”. It will be 87 pages of onomatopoetic pig noises.
My to-do list for the day involves: writing a little (and…done), bathing the children and dog (not at the same time, thanks.), and cleaning and preparing for the family camping trip this weekend. The dog needs scrubbed because, for one thing, she stinks and also because she will be taking her first visit to a “doggie hotel” during our trip. I call it a “doggie hotel” instead of a boarding facility or kennel when I mention it to her in hopes that she will be excited and happy about her little vacation. Ignoring the fact that she is a Pomeranian and that she has a brain the size of a walnut, I could probably call it “the doggie torture chamber” and she would respond with the same mouth-agape wide eyed face she always displays. Regardless, the dog hates camping. It is the complete opposite of what she finds entertaining and comfortable. Instead, we are giving her two nights in a deluxe suite complete with a comfortable cot and lambskin bedding, ample personal attention and an in-suite television tuned to “pet-related programming with all happy endings”. This is the description given to me by the all-too personable lady on the telephone. All the while I’m thinking, “I don’t think I have ever seen the dog watch television. I’m pretty sure she has never acknowledged the television’s existence”. But nothing is too good for our little Princess Walnut Brain.
Also on my plan for the day is waiting impatiently for UPS to deliver my new toy, a tenor ukulele. I am beyond excited and, like a doofus, have been clicking on the UPS package tracking site three times a day for updates on its progress. When it comes I will share my thoughts and maybe even offer up some samples of my virtuosic playing. Yes, you are that lucky.
Being someone who spent their formative years firmly entrenched in 80’s culture, I spend a great amount of time watching music videos and movies about break-dancing. This led me to believe, for most of my early and teen years, that I could overcome any obstacle simply by luring it onto a dance floor. This led to several unfortunate knocks to my self confidence later on in life. I have now learned that there is not one damn thing that I can defeat by dancing, unless it is someone else’s lack of something hilariously unfortunate at which to laugh. Spinning on my head will not convince the land developer not to destroy the teen center. And there is absolutely no way, and I mean no way, that you can defend a lady’s honor by moonwalking. I really wish that last one would have been made part of my sixth grade curriculum. That would have saved a lot of blood loss.
There is no real point to today’s post. I am busy dealing with post vacation blues along with a litany of other issues. None of these problems can be dealt with by dancing either…unless drinking is involved, but I think that in that case the drinking would be more beneficial than the actual dancing. Oh well, back to work. I got a major project on my desk that I’m going to try firing a few well placed groin thrusts and a “running man” at before I give up and just put a spreadsheet together. Real life sucks.
I am excited. Today we are loading up the Family Truckster and heading to the beach. I’m not sure what I am going to do with all of the unstructured free time, but I think I will figure it out. It’s probably something I should get used to anyway. We are driving down at night, so the girls (hopefully) sleep through the trip. Not that we aren’t packing a full entertainment arsenal in the van: DVD player, MP3 players, etc. with headphones so that Daddy can concentrate on pounding energy shots and bad gas station coffee. East bound n’ down, ya’ll!
Starting Monday, while I relax, enjoy some old posts that I dug up from a previous incarnation of Fatherness. I had fully intended to repost this stuff once I had this new blog up and running, but didn’t. So enjoy the reruns. Not to be confused with Rerun, even though this blog is totally what’s happening!
I just wanted to post a couple of quick things as I try to complete the packing list for vacation. It’s really not that difficult, since my wardrobe consists of four t-shirts, one pair of pants and three pairs of shorts that fit me. My list basically just says “pack the clothes that fit you”.
First, I have fixed the subscription link on the upper right corner of the main page. It will now take you to the RSS feed. I know you’re thinking “but Jim, we liked the fact that when we tried to subscribe to the feed it just took us to a broken link. It was different, it was NOW!” I just thought that maybe I would try to get a few more readers. Probably selfish, I admit.
Second, with regards to the ongoing potty training issue, here is a conversation between my wife and I as she packed the snacks and treats for the kids.
Wife: I’m packing the poop suckers.
Wife: That’s what they are incentive for…not how they are flavored.
Just a small example of how having children turns your life into a combination of Twin Peaks and the Airplane! movies.