Saturday, May 30, 2009

I are three, okay?

Davey can count to three. Isn't that great? When he turns eleven, I can only hope that he'll be wearing open toe sandals. Happy Birthday, by the way.

I only vaguely recollect my college years, but I do remember that it is not a party until someone streaks, you piss off the neighbors, or someone gets beheaded. Not one to disappoint when it comes to partying, I organized the package deal.

Today was only the party - David actually turned three on Tuesday. Since then, he has both pleased us with his newfound toilet capabilities and frustrated us with his insistent and rather annoying quirk to flush down a whole roll of toilet paper every time he has any nature-urge that might actually require toilet paper. I now live in constant fear that the kitchen sink will explode or the neighbors will find bits of Charmin floating in their next bath. This, of course, would surely make David laugh, kind of like how he laughs each time I scream 'DAMN IT, DAVID - STOP FLUSHING THE ENTIRE FREAKIN' ROLL OF TOILET PAPER DOWN THE TOILET!'

I tried to look on the bright side of pooping and laugh the whole thing off. It didn't work, but at least David got quite a chuckle out of the whole ordeal. Eventually, I chose the low road, also known as 'ignore the problem - it will go away on its own'.

Instead, I began filling water balloons for the BIG BIRTHDAY WATER BALLOON WAR! At one point, I mistakenly asked Angie for a tub for all of the filled water balloons. Davey often hears what he wants to and this time, his tiny little brain heard tub and water and immediately instructed him to get naked and run around the apartment like a madboy.

He finally understood that I said TUB and not BATHTUB, but this did little to get the three year old streaker clothed again. Whatever, it's his birthday - he might as well wear the suit.

Speaking of suits, did I ever tell you the hilarious story about how Clarice wanted to hold Tom? No? Well, there we were, sitting around a table witnessing kids lose their mind at a boggling rate. Tommy was the only sane and quiet one, if you can believe that. Even if you can't, shut up. It's my story.

So, Tommy was being all 'look at me, I'm cute, won't you please pick me up? I promise not to dump luke-warm coffee all over you.' Somehow, Clarice fell for the trap. At least her pants were white. Right on, Tommy!

Clarice was not the only one getting soaked. My brilliant idea of having water balloons was backfiring on me. Big time. At some point, Angie managed to convert my idea of the kids throwing balloons at each other in the garden into 'let's make Steve go down to the garden and we can try and peg his head from the balcony'. Oh, ok - thanks honey-thighs.

Missed me, missed me, know you have to...uh, why are the neighbors crying?

I can absolutely confirm that they were not tears of happiness. I guess our water bombs did not catapult as far as I had previously estimated. In short, the water bombs landed in gravel, which kicked up stones, mud, and emotions all over the nicely laid out blanket that was awaiting the visitors of the family below us. At one point, their little girl came running out shouting 'you're getting everything wet'. My sole, yet witty, response was 'yeah, they're WATER balloons'.

After mending a few broken fences and some MAJOR apologizing, we were ready to continue birthday-partying! Angie stayed behind to clean-up, but I saw this as already part of our 'arrangement'. I cook, she cleans. I destroy the neighbor's family picnic, she cleans. Thanks, sugar-lips.

I wasn't the only one pissing off others. We moved to the playground, where Elmo must have seriously angered Peter. In response, Peter did everything BUT tickle Elmo.

I am just damn lucky that our neighbors didn't have a pinata stick handy after the water balloon incident. As it was, I am sure they wanted to rip my head off. Hey, join the club.

Mark and I let the tiny ones fight over the loot as we did victory laps around the playground chanting 'ding-dong, the Muppet's dead' until some of the kids started crying. Pinatas are so freakin' awesome, man!

We decided to take the kids upstairs to cool off a bit. The birthday boy must have thought Chiara was cool enough to share his primo spot in the cooler.

I'm not upset that David did not invite me. Not at all. I am secure enough in my super-mega-coolness to overlook this social face-slap. I didn't care, not even a little. Whatever. Jerk. Bedtime!

David firmly stated that 'I are three, okay' and assumed that this weak argument would somehow convince me to let him stay up later. His statement was not grammatically incorrect, by the way. I am pretty sure that he was referring to his multiple personalities and trust me - there are more than three and none of them stayed up past bedtime. Hmm...maybe you should've been cooler to me? Happy Birthday, by the way.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When we did pinata.
David: When Dalia come here to my birthday.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When Chiara shoot at me with a water pistol, but there was very, very, very, very hot water.
David: When Chiara and Alessio not stay here.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play with Mommy hide-n-seek and you and Davey.
David: When Peter play with me pirates.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Brain sucker starving

In the wild, you often hear of mothers eating their young, so you can imagine my concern when I walked in on the Zoo crew and found Angie trying to brainsuck the life out of the Birthday Boy. Luckily, Papa came to the rescue before Mama's power hickey could do any permanent damage.

Today was the warm-up version for David's birthday - his real party is this weekend. He has invited his entire school to the BIG BIRTHDAY PARTY, along with anyone who has inadvertently spoken to him in the last two weeks. Since it was a warm-up, we at least had to have some fire.

After blowing out the candles, Angie freaked out getting the boys ready. Why was she in such a hurry, you might ask. Let me answer your curious George with a flashback to the night before.

I came home from work and was immediately tackled by the animals, as per usual. Angie came in and started babbling about her day and how awesome I am, as per usual. I ignored these incessant ramblings, as per usual, until she mentioned something that really made me chuckle.

'I'm going to bake a Captain Sharky cake and some muffins for David's kindergarten class.'

'Ok, should I call the fire department now or wait until I smell smoke?'

As is often the case, Angie completely ignored wit and humor, even when it was slapping her upside the head. At least I got another chuckle.

About an hour later, Angie shuffled in wearing a long, red face that was spinkled with flour. For some strange reason, she actually admitted to me how she had emptied the contents of the muffin mix into a bowl, but somehow managed to follow the recipe that was written on the cake box. This of course meant that the muffins had a bit more eggs, oil and milk in them then they should have. I chuckled again.

About forty-five minutes later, Angie came prancing in and danced a victory lap around me, shouting something about being able to bake a cake and shoving fingers in my face while screaming 'Ha!' over and over. Whatever. No chuckling - mainly because there was absolutely nothing funny about Angie's 'in yo face' dance.

About thirty minutes later, I went to the kitchen; presumably for a beer, but yesterday was so long ago, I really don't remember. Anyway, I came across a cake sitting on our cutting board that looked like it had pretty much collapsed on itself.

From time to time, I like to dress up in silly clothes, smoke a pipe, and pretend that I am Sherlock Holmes, so I immediately started investigating. My first observation was rather simple and only confirmed my initial suspicion - yup, the cake had definitely caved in on itself. The question remained, though - why would a perfectly good Captain Sharky cake commit suicide?

Next, I moved my skilful eyes to the cake mix box, with a nice picture of a round flat cake that looked nothing like the masterpiece I was analyzing.

By simple geometrical elimination, I was able to deduce that the cake in front of me was not round. My trained eye then noticed a used pan in the sink. It was not a round, flat cake pan. No, it was a rather deep bread pan. Hmmm....intriguing. But there was still that pesky question of why the cake would just implode on itself.

It's elementary, my dear moron. A cake, baked in a deep bread pan would need to cook a tad bit longer than the same cake, baked in a shallow cake pan. You would also need to follow the cooking times and recipe written on the cake box and not those from the muffin box, but at least this slight oversight made a certain sexy and muscular Sherlock Holmes wannabe chuckle even harder.

Anyway, the cake cooled, but the middle was still liquid, thereby resulting in the unfortunate, but still freakin' hilarious collapsing of said cake. And, you guessed it - I chuckled yet again.

So jumping back from my rather lengthy flash, Angie was running around all panicky, trying to get the kids ready for school. I finally realized why the hell she was in such a hurry - Betty Crock-not still needed to go by a cake store and buy something edible for David's kindergarten party. I guess the half-baked muffin breadcake was too embarrassing for even Angie to show up with. In the end, I finally figured out that Chef Boyardummy was probably just brainsucking our children for any cooking brain cells they might have inherited from Papa. Elementary.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When Barbara read me that book.
David: When I make in the toilet kaka.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I got that owa.
David: When Mama make my schnulli out 'cause I are a baby.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To go to Arman's.
David: To play 'hi, the shark is in the water'.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Wrinkles, wigs and weird women

Today was my birthday party, A.K.A. Wrinkle Party. Angie would be the weird woman in a wig that I mistakenly and perhaps too eagerly thought was a 70's disco stripper hired to boogie down with the birthday boy. I tried to explain to Angie that being confused for a stripper should be a compliment, but Afro-Mama wasn't buying it. for me, Chia pet, dance!

The morning started out at the butt-crack of dawn with David screaming at the top of his lungs that he MAKE A POOPY NOW, OK?

Actually, it was more than ok. I am so freakin' loving David's newfound friendship with John that I scraped my lazy ass out of bed at six o'clock in the A.M. to put the seat down for Mr. Nodiapers. I have to say, I found it quite hilarious that David says 'bye bye, kaka' and waves as he flushes. I didn't laugh, though. Don't jinx it, man!

After many high fives and some moderate hand-washing, Papa cooked breakfast for the Zoo. Peter has recently shown an interest in the kitchen, so we grabbed his step ladder and I let him break open a few eggs. Luckily for me, Angie and I have an arrangement where I cook, she cleans. At one point, she tried to argue that she should not be responsible for cleaning up pieces of egg shell from the walls since technically it was Peter who made the mess. Nice try, Betty Crocker, but next time you should try your weak-ass negotiations AFTER I have served you your meal.

As Angie cleaned the kitchen walls, floor and ceiling, I grabbed Peter the Helper and Tommy Two Teeth and began setting up for the BBQ.

Tommy is either absolutely fascinated with Peter here or he cannot breath. Either way, at least he was quiet while I put together the picnic tables and benches. The party really started when the Ice-man showed up with the necessary tools for making warm beer cold.

After an hour, Eisi and I began testing out if the ice was actually working. It was, but I believe in being quite thorough when it comes to testing. After our third exam, Eisi broke out his theater wigs that apparently make weird looking kids look even weirder.

Dalia stuck her tongue out, which was cute and funny. Our boys then tried the same and I would say that freaky and disturbing might better describe them.

Bizarreness must be contagious. Pretty soon, all the kids wanted to throw on dead hair and show off their goofy side.
The adults were revolted by how silly and immature the kids were being and immediately began downing barrels of wine to show how mature they were.

I guess it only takes a few glasses of grape juice for the ladies to show how silly and immature they actually can be.

I have to say, with Angie it was no surprise - I know the sound of her wine. The other wigged weirdos took me by surprise, though.

Another surprise came when a Ferrari drove down our street. After sadly confirming that this was not a belated birthday gift, Angie and I chased the car down and got our pose on.

Because there were actually people still sitting in the car, Angie felt compelled to ask the driver if we could take a few photos [above, left]. He answered with 'go ahead, sure - you can even touch it if you want' [above, right]. I can only hope Mr. Conceited was talking about the car. I really think those things should be convertibles; how else are these guys with the big heads actually supposed to fit in them? Speaking of really desperate men, I reminded my private dancer that I never got my birthday jingle [above, middle].
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When David said 'gaga' and then he laughs.
David: When Peter bonked his head and that so funny I laugh.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I tripped by the party.
David: When Peter cry 'cause he afraid of me.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play swords.
David: To play with Peter pirates and I are a captain, ok?

Friday, May 22, 2009

Creature from the Black Lagoon Returns

It's good that Tom is my son. If I had turned around to some other kid and seen either one of these images, I would have run away screaming like a little girl. I mean, look at that thing! It's disgusting! It's like some lagoon monster mama forgot her baby creature at the playground and it decided to come over and high five me. Someone should really beat the crap out of that thing's mom for letting it eat dirt like that. 'Cause, come on - who knows where that dirt has been? For all we know, it could have been imported from China. If their kids toys are not even children-friendly, can you imagine what is in the dirt they use for exporting?

The best part is that approximately 20 minutes before this lovely snapshot, Tom was in the bath with me. Getting clean. If it had been backwards day, the whole mud bonanza would have been pretty damn hilarious. Ok, chewing on dirt should not be funny regardless of the bathing order, but at least I might have laughed. As it was, I did not. Tom did. Angie did. Other weird people at the park did. Whatever - we'll see who's chuckling when the boy comes down with the Chinese Dirt Flu.

I can only hope that Tom's mud-pies are not a daily meal. I normally leave enough microwavable left-overs to feed Angie and Tom and ensure that she has absolutely no reason to turn on the stove. Before you start going on and on about what a wonderful husband I am and we all end up in tears, I should confess that I only do this to avoid spending all day wondering if the kitchen is on fire. But I am a wonderful husband - thanks for that one.

Normally, I am at work when Angie takes Pig-Pen to playtime, so I have never been witness to this abnormal ritual. Today was my birthday, though, so it was far from normal. For one, I took off from work. At least I was able to get an interesting insight into how, exactly, our child who can not walk, crawl, or move yet can get so absolutely filthy every freakin' day of the week. Thanks for clearing up that little mystery, sweetie.

Speaking of sweet, Angie surprised me by organizing a baby sitter so that we could go get our Guinness on. Sweet.

Aside from a goofy looking woman, what you see here is the complimentary daiquiri that the owner gave us when we showed up to the pub together. We spent the first ten minutes explaining to people that 'no, we are not divorced'. Man, you have a few kids and stop going to the pubs together for five years, and everyone just assumes you've split up. I kept coming up with really witty retorts like 'not yet', which did not amuse Angie. She's not really that witty, though.

Two sips after this picture, the baby sitter called to inform us that the baby was crying. My advice to sit on him was shooed away by Angie as she put on her coat. Be right back...

Luckily for me, I was at a bar, so I was able to entertain myself for the 45 minutes it took for Angie to be right back. Upon her return, she ordered another drink and was actually able to finish that one. Angie drinks fast normally, but after the curious incident of the phonesitter in the night, she downed it. Sweet. Not sweet was the ringtone on Angie's phone that went off as soon as we ordered the next drink. After call number two, we turned completely French and surrendered on the spot. Check please!

Birthday Boy note to Lagoon Boy:
Thanks, dirt-head. Years from now, when you are getting ready for your prom date, I'm going to smother myself in black ink and give you a big hug. Then after the dance, just as you are about to kiss the girl in the car you borrowed from Papa, I'm going to jump out of the bushes with a flashlight and tell you it is time to go home. What do you think of that, Lagoon Boy? Huh?
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When we got a babysitter.
David: When Peter played with me.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I couldn't play with Sebastian.
David: When Peter bonked my toe and I cry.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play by your party.
David: When Artim come here.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Cotton breath

I've always wondered what the hell Angie does while I'm at work and how the kids could possibly have that much energy when I come home. Now I know - she takes them to the carnies and feeds them candy until they foam at the mouth. Good one, sweetie - maybe the next 'frenzy' can take place while I'm away on business?

Apparently, the sugar-fueled craziness can all be blamed on David's bowel movements. Oh, ok... well, as long as there is a logical explanation. Logic is not one of Angie's strong points. It's not even one of her weak points, but eventually I pieced together that David made it through a full day without wearing a diaper. This in itself is not news; the fact that he went the entire day without a diaper and managed not to soil himself or others is news.

As much as I know how much my two readers love hearing all about David's digestive progression, perhaps we should move back to the cotton candy rewards that the boys were reaping thanks to David's long overdue jump to the big-boy side of life.

I guess Captain Commando did not get high enough off of the sugar cone he had inhaled. To keep the adrenaline flying, he jumped on the nearest rocket and blasted off.

There was a green button that made the thing go up and down. After his solo flight, Destructo Dave smelled a little like hydraulic fluid and I am quite sure that the green button was broken. Before any of the freaky carnies could figure out what had happened to their ride, the boys rode off into the sunset.

The horse was obviously not aware that it was David's first full day without diapers. Luckily, the saddle remained dry as the two bandits headed south. Then east. Then north. Then west. Then south again. Yeah, that's right, genius - they were going in circles. Aren't we all?

After their odd little version of Showdown at the C.C. Corral, the Cotton Candy cowboys were getting mighty tuckered out. When the Sheriff instructed them to head back to the ranch, though, the Three Amigos were slightly less than thrilled.

Angie's excuse for rounding up the caballeros - 'Papa's coming home soon'. That's great - not only did you manage to wind them up to the breaking point, you were also able to somehow blame me while diverting their anger and disappointment on my unsuspecting ass as I walked in the front door.

'Hey, boys - I'm home!'
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When we go'ed on the rolly coaster rides - the first time I go'ed with Mama and David. The second time mommy was on not - I was there myself.
David: When we have no picture from Grams and Opa.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When my foot hurt a little bit 'cause I tripped and bonked me self there.
David: When we only watch one Spongebob.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play hide-n-seek.
David: When Peter hide again in my covers like a bear.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Bringing home the bacon

Angie will soon return to the land of the working!! Angie was really happy because it will give her a break from the kids. Since she will be teaching a whole classroom of the ankle-biters, this did not make much sense to me, but then again, I'm not Angie. This is good, since I would hate not understanding me.

Check out them toes

David managed to piss off a non-family member by screaming out 'Look, Mama! She has the same feet as you!' In the end, we realized that David was not referring to how smelly Angie's feet are; he was simply pointing out that the toenails on both sets of feet were red. At least the water playground was packed. After a few seconds, Angie's cheeks matched her toenails.

Feeding time

Tom tries so hard to make me laugh, but I don't find dirty diapers and crying to be particularly hilarious. At dinner, he finally unlocked the door to my funny room. Covering Mama in...well, anything will always crack me up. Way to go, Tommy!

Sunday, May 10, 2009

The Motherload

Angie should get the 'Mother of the Year' award. She figured out how to do laundry, clean Tom and entertain Papa all at once. What else could you ask for? Before I answer that and get myself into mother trouble, let's move on.

Mother's day started out nice. Peter came in and announced that he loved Mama 'to the volcanoes and back'. I don't know about you, but I freakin' love being compared to places that burn in flames. Judging by Angie's smile, she was also loving the hell out of the compliments.

We went to Grams and Opa's for lunch. Silly Grams and Opa forgot that we are the Johnson's, though, and actually prepared lunch. Had they considered for one minute our track record on making it anywhere on time, they would have certainly prepared dinner and invited us for breakfast. Yes, we were late. Just a tad. We blame Tom now, but mainly because Peter and David are old enough to say things like 'Mama was in the shower for, like...two days!!'. Trust me, she needed it.

After lunch, Grams tried to teach David how to cheat at a game of fish puzzle-building.

I think in the end, David taught Grams more tricks than either one of us wanted to know that he knew. Puzzling.

After the bonding fish-building exercise, I could tell the minnows needed a little exercise themselves. I took Peter and David to the playground, where they actually managed to play quite nicely with one another.

Ok, seconds after this cute photo op, David threw dirt in Peter's eyes, prompting a retaliatory groin kick before Papa could break them up. Still....cute photo, huh?

After breaking up Cain and Able, we went to Sandy and Mark's, where we reverted back to the theme of things that catch on fire.

If you look closely, you will see that Chef Mark has burnt the ever-loving shit out of the poor hamburger box because he had it sitting directly against the grill for a few hours. At least his grilling faux pas was a quick and easy way for him to bond with Angie. Whatever burns your boat, I guess.

Sandy was also easy to bond with.

I have three boys. She has three boys, if you include Mark and ignore the one that is off camera breaking things. I like beer. She had beer. We both are married to spouses that burn shit.

Where Sandy and I hopefully differ is that our son has obviously chosen a future in the garbage disposal business.

I shook my head and hoped that Destructo Dave would not end up picking up other people's trash. Mama mumbled something about being proud of whatever he does. 'Whatever' was the only thing I could take away from her babbling that made any sense, though. Rather than ask for clarification of these motherly ramblings, I wisely chose to avoid the mother trouble and move on.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When David bonked himself on the body.
David: When we go to Grams and Opa and then to the Hatch.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When we couldn't do the skateboards.
David: When Peter's not come here.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: When we go to the wedding from Handan.
David: When I catch a dinosaur.

Friday, May 8, 2009

I wanna see you whistle, boy!

I guess Peter finally had enough of me giving him shit that he could not whistle. When it actually happened, though, I think it surprised him more than me. At the same time, I think it pissed me off more than him. Damn him! Now I need to find a totally new way of making fun of him. Check out the full story.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Holy Shrek!

Holy shit! When Angie told me she loved 'Shrek', I always thought she meant the movie.

The morning started out with a visit to the ear doctor for Peter. I had assumed it would be for some cosmetic ear reduction because come on - those things are HUGE! Angie explained to me later that it was to check his hearing. I tried to explain to Princess Fiona that he hears fine; he just doesn't listen. She didn't listen to me, though. Gee, wonder where the boy gets it?

When I got home from work, I found that a jungle pirate had slaughtered an elephant in our bed.
Sorry, let me try that again. When I got home from work, I found that a jungle pirate had SLAUGHTERED A FREAKIN' ELEPHANT in our bed! Sometimes, I really wonder what the hell Angie does all day, other than entertaining ogres of course? Luckily, Papa came to the rescue and tickled Dumbo's arch nemesis away.

Just when I thought my work was done, that pesky Shrek kid tried to sneak into our bedroom wearing a disguise.

'Mmmm...You look mighty familiar....Hey, wait a minute....Holy shit! ANGIE!'
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I played with Grams pirates.
David: When I played the chicken game.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When we go to the ear doctor's 'cause my ears are with water.
David: When you say me no play the chicken game no more.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play pirates.
David: When we play Mama, baby, Papa and that is all.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Inching up my nerves

It's fine that Angie is a complete freak-o when it comes to picking up creepy crawlies, but does she really need to imbed this whacky trait into our kids? Today's specimen was an inchworm that was apparently icky enough to be stuck on Peter's cheek. If she brings a leech into the house, I swear to you - I'm leaving.

After a disgusting hour of watching the Zoo crew carry out their own twisted version of Fear Factor, I rounded up the filthy bugs and we headed over to Sami and Kika's. It wasn't really to see them, though. Angie didn't even say hi, unless shouting 'where's the baby?!' constitutes a greeting.

The real purpose of our visit was to try and keep Angie's 'I needa baby' urges under wraps. After about two hours, I began to question the logic of our visit's purpose. I had somehow pictured a scenario where the baby would be screaming it's head off, peeing on Angie, and spitting up in her hair, thereby making me laugh and reconfirming that we don't 'needa baby'. Instead, baby Lauri silently snuggled and cuddled in Angie's arms. He even cooed. Damn.

My guess is that Lauri secretly wants us to have another kid because he knows that a) it would most certainly be a boy and b) it would mean that he is older than at least one of the Johnsons. Sorry, Lauri - you may be cute and oogly, but we are not making any more playmates for you.

Not one to be outdone by an 11-day old, Tom cranked up his 'look at me' meter.

Jealousy can be ugly at any age, but come on - why the hell is a 7 month old jockeying for attention? Oh, that's right - it's because the poor guy's Mama is too busy trying to turn off her freakin' biological clock. Has anyone seen my hammer?

After narrowly avoiding a cute baby smack-down, we headed back to the Zoo to let Tommy get his pose on.
I guess Peter isn't the only one who likes hogging the camera, but that is a whole nother thread of jealousy that will be woven at some other point in time. The good thing is, Tom is still new enough that moments like this can still hit snooze on Mama's baby clock.

At some point, David, er...umm, sorry I mean Spine-o-man, as he calls it, came rushing to the rescue.
I'm not quite sure why he was wielding an axe; I can only hope and assume that it was for that pesky clock with the faulty snooze button.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I played with Eisi eating.
David: When Dalia come here.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When we couldn't play Schwarzer Peter with Eisi.
David: When Tom played here and then he make bonk and bonk.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To take the dragon with to Kindergarten.
David: When I play with Gizma something.