Sunday, March 24, 2019

Mom's getting old


Angie was on the phone with Gramms today, who kept complaining that she could not hear Angie. 

'I hear you just fine,' repeated the woman with superhero-like hearing. 

After five minutes of this, Angie huffed and hung up the phone. 

'Mom's getting old...'

Angie muttered this as she put down the phone and as she did, she realized that she had been holding the phone upside down. Then she made another mistake and told me. 

'Yup. Mom's getting old...'


Friday, March 8, 2019

Be careful of what you ask for...


David was in class today and the teacher brought in a device that measures noise. Then, she made the mistake of asking her students to get loud to test the device.

As expected, the kids began screaming their heads off. Surprisingly, this did little to move the needle. What the teacher did not know is that David's father has a chest of hair that makes llamas jealous. Okay, that has nothing to do with this story, but hey, it's my blog.

The other tidbit of intel that the teacher was lacking was that years ago I had shown David how to whistle with his lower teeth. I remember this vividly because for the weeks following our father-son knowledge transfer bonding session, Angie, Peter, Tom, and even our neighbors had thanked me repeatedly for sharing my skills. What the teacher did not anticipate was that asking David to be as loud as possible was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. To make a long story short - the bull charged.

Whistler's Mother's lost stepchild took off within seconds, sending the noise-o-meter immediately into the red while the teacher screamed at David to stop. Be careful what you ask for...



Friday, February 1, 2019

Dances with Mothers

For more than half a year now, Peter has been disappearing on Friday nights to go to a dance course. In Germany, this is traditional for kids his age. It culminates in a big fancy schmancy event in the City Hall - somewhat similar to a prom, except that for some reason parents are allowed to attend.

It's a big deal and you definitely can't go alone. Shortly before Christmas, Peter finally mustered up the courage to ask Momo, a girl in his dance class, to go to the ball with him. Her 'yes' resulted in two months of preparing and by preparing, I of course mean freakin' the freak out.

'I don't have a suit that fits! Aaaaggghh!'

'A tie?! I don't have a tie! I don't even know how to tie a tie. Aaaaggghh!'

'These shoes don't match my suit! Aaaaggghh!' 

'My hair is too long! Aaaaggghh!' 

'Flowers! We need to order the bouquet! Aaaaggghh!

Me handing him a brown paper bag and asking him to breath in it did not calm him down as much as I thought it would. My wallet helped, though, and Peter acquired a complete new wardrobe that he will undoubtedly outgrow in the next two months. It was worth it, though. He looked quite debonair and Momo looked exquisitely radiant. Our little baby's all growns up!


Shortly before the ceremony began, Peter asked if I knew any ball dances.

'Hell no. But when I was your age, I could breakdance with the best of them. I'll show you later, if you want.'


I ignored Peter's lack of a response and went to the bar to get two glasses of wine for me and one for Angie. When I got back, Peter had disappeared and we watched from the balcony as the festivities began.


Peter had explicitly forbidden me to take any pictures of him dancing with Momo. I can even understand this one. I've been known to be quite the pesky paparazzi when given the chance. Peter's mistake was not to include Mama on his black list of exclusions.   

'Hey, Peter! Over here! Come on! Show me them pearly whites!'


Peter kept ducking and weaving throughout the first dance. The next song began and Angie somehow got confused and thought that she was now Peter's new dance partner.

I changed tactics and moved to the balcony. I mean, come on - that's why zoom lenses were created, right?

'Hey, Peter! Up here! No, over here! Perfect! Great! Now I want you to be a TIGER!'


As the third song began, Angie once again offered her seasoned dancing services to Peter. For the second time tonight, he responded with a non-verbal gesture that said more than words ever should.


Unfortunately for Peter and, quite frankly, everyone else there, they did not play anything that I could breakdance to. At one point, though, they did play a version of 'The Macarena' that had my name written all over it.


I never made it to the dance floor, though. Like Batman, Angie appeared out of the shadows and forcibly convinced me to take her home, presumably so I could bust out me moves in the privacy of our own home.

'God no! I'd rather cook food than watch you do the Robot again.'

'Ouch! You really need to have Peter teach you the delicate art of communicating using only your face. He's really good at it.'
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Ladder Talk: [No Ladder Talk tonight - Peter was busy dancing on Cloud 9 and David and Tom were spending the night at friends]
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter:
David:
Tom:


2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter:
David:
Tom:



3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter:
David:
Tom: