Saturday, August 2, 2008

C is for Construction

There might be differing viewpoints on how much Peter was 'helping' Opa with the drilling and hammering, but there is no disputing how much Peter enjoyed it.

When I was a kid, a phone call to the grandparents was a monthly event, at best. Nowadays, it still amazes me how connected we can be. With live video feeds and easy access, it is so easy to stay in touch.

The morning started out with a video Skype to Pop-Pop, which the boys found awesome. Each time they talk to my dad, they need to pull out the globe to find where the hell he is. This time, it was Japan. It's always a game - 'Where in the world is Pop-Pop?' It's ok, boys. Most times, he doesn't know where the hell he is, either.

Angie has been sick as a dog lately. Coughing and severe swelling of the belly seem to be the apparent symptoms. I decided to take the rug rats to the zoo and give Angie a little peace of mind. She deserves a lot of peace, but I am a warmonger by nature, so I can only dish it out in small doses. Go Rambo!

As I packed up the diapers and sun screen, I came across Casper, the not-so-friendly ghost:

Holy Shit! I can't believe this! I gotta go get the camera. Oh, please, for the love of all that is supernatural, stay like that for just two secs...'

Yes, Angie yelled at me. Yes, she was absolutely justified in calling me an insensitive asshole for shooting her when she was inhaling her cough medicine. But still - check it out! Is that hilarious or what?! And finally, yes - I am still cracking up from my premo spot on the sofa.

The zoo was great, although Peter made a rather rude but absolutely brilliant correction to this idiot dad who was standing next to us and explaining to his son that the bears were polar bears. Peter stopped the guy and explained. 'No, they are not polar bears. Even though they are white, they are really brown bears.'

Mr. Moron started to argue with Peter. Obviously he does not know how big Peter's brain can get when he really flexes. 'That's cute, but why would it be called a brown bear if it's white? It's a polar bear, but thanks for trying to help.'

Peter glanced at me briefly as if to ask 'Can I?'. I had no idea how to respond, since I was kinda siding with the whole polar bear argument, but I gave Peter the encouraging nod to continue.

'Come here' he began, sounding very much like Angie-the-teacher. Dummy dad followed Peter over to a sign - one that, I might add, Peter can not read. Peter than regurgitated from memory what he knew to be written on the sign. 'Here it explains it. Even though the bears are white, they are not polar bears. They belong to the brown bear family...' The sign went on to explain how stupid Polar Dad was, who turned red and quickly walked away. Ba-bye.

We came back around three because Constructo-Opa was meeting us to drill holes and hammer shit into our walls. We tackled the boy's room first, hanging three mammoth bookshelves. We moved on to a key/coat rack for the boys by the front door, which is actually what's featured in the picture above.

Given the choice between being Bob the Builder and a Zookeeper, I am sure that Peter would have a tough decision after today. Given the look in his eyes when Opa handed him the hammer and asked Peter to finish the job, my money would be on Bob.

1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When all the things are up - the shelves.
David: When I had my own arm. Two, actually.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I almost forgot that Phoenix - I put something, then I got up, and I don't have the Phoneix.
David: When I move the door and then I eat it.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To go with you football playing. Or maybe swords.
David: [Nothing. At this point, David is so wired for sound, there is NO time for tomorrow]

No comments:

Post a Comment