Monday, May 28, 2012

Pre-flight checks

Today started out with an Angie freak-out that was so predicted that I could have set my watch to it. Allow me to explain:
  • She is flying with David to America tomorrow
  • She had not yet packed
That's it. Trust me, it doesn't take much to trigger an Angie-plosion. Luckily, I am the modern day Nostradamus and saw this meltdown coming two days ago when I first innocently asked my ball of tension if she had packed yet. It had less to do with how she growled at me and more to do with the thousand-yard stare that accompanied her primal reply. It was at that point that I started thinking about what I could do with the boys on T minus 1 to get far, far away from suitcases and negative stress.

In the end, I took the animals to the zoo. Well, not all of them. I sacrificed David to pack with the Predator and quickly escaped with buddies 1 and 3. I felt bad, but only briefly. David was going on his 'pre-school trip' that started as a tradition with Peter's trip to Africa in the summer before he started school.

David starts school in the fall and up until two weeks ago, I had planned to take Destructo Dave to Disney World in Orlando to see what damage we could smack on Mickey and his goofy friends. It only took one tiny trip to the doctor's to find out why my calves were turning black to be diagnosed with varicose veins that need to be removed immediately. This inconvenient medical setback meant that I will be operated on in two weeks and cannot fly. [Exit Steve, enter Angie]

After our last trip to the States, at least our passports are ALL up to date, so Angie's only worry was picking out clothes and stuffing them into a padded rectangle. My only worry was making sure that Peter and Tommy weren't horsing around at the zoo.

Tommy assured me that he wasn't, but something about his mischievous grin made me nervous. I decided to ignore him for the moment and check on Peter. Monkey boy announced to me from the rafters that he wants to be a swinger when he grows up. Don't we all.

I decided not to stroll down the rocky path of non-monogamous explanations. Instead, I marched on with my goal of tuckering out three-year olds. It started with a real cliff-hanger.

As everyone knows, what goes up must come down. What might not be common knowledge is that if you forget to apply light pressure when sliding down a pole, you slam into the dirt below like a sack of potatoes.

Shortly after this shot, we were reminded by friendly zoo folk carrying shovels and smelling like poop that wailing like a kid who had just pile-drived himself tends to scare the animals. Thanks, Dolittle.

I borrowed the good doctor's shovel and scraped up a pile of Tommy from the sand. After some minor tears and some major hugs, I was able to release potatoes back into the wild. 

This picture is actually shortly after the second tear-worthy crash of the day. It happened approximately six steps before this shot, when Tommy lost his balance and tumbled headfirst into the weeds. They look soft and cushiony, but trust Tommy's lungs, they were not. At least he inherited Mama's stubborn gene, prompting him to shoo away helping hands; he had a log to cross and by damn if anyone got in his way.

Meanwhile, back in the jungle, Angie had not progressed any further with packing. I discovered this when we came back and Angie was in front of Crackbook looking guilty but amused. Amusement got the better of her. 

'Hey, you gotta check out this video - it's a cat chasing a flashlight and...'

'Yeah, cute. Did you pack?'

'Um, did you want to have coffee?'

'Did you pack?'

'Oh hey, while you guys were gone, Davey did the funniest ...'


Angie is not prone to whimpering, but her 'not yet' came damn close. As I scolded her with my eyes, Tommy strolled by and asked why Mama would be packing. We explained for the 200th time that Mama would be flying away with David for a week. For the 200th time, Tommy refused to accept this and demanded that we pack his suitcase because 'I are too going'. 

Tommy is prone to whimpering and his 'fine, then I'll go by me-self' comment told me that he was still in denial. Married men know that you should not try and pet mad dogs; nothing you do will make them happy. Sometimes, it's better just to let the crazy pup build a 'super-fly box to take me to Uhmerika'.

Speaking of crazy animals, Tommy wasn't the only one petrified at the thought of a week alone with Papa. Luke apparently built his own flying contraption and looked ready for takeoff. He had even packed one of the kid's toy bug-bots for the flight.

Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I was a big bird with little wings.
David: When I can pack my new game.
Tom: When I build my spaceship.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When Tommy was screaming so loud by the zoo.
David: I didn't have a bad part.
Tom: When I go aaagghh-boom and owa.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To go to the swimming pool.
David: To fly to America.
Tom: To fly to Uhmerika.


  1. So did little Tommy finally stay with you? Did you convince him to stay with you :-)? You're getting a lot of blogging done..great!! So much fun reading, thank you for all the laughs!! Ute

  2. Ute - oddly enough, Tommy's box-craft did not pass the FAA standards for solo flight. I bribed him with an ice-cream, though, and he was like 'Mama who?' - I think he'll survive. As for blogging, it's amazing what two weeks off can do. :-) And thank you for enjoying. :-)