Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Bang! Bang! You're crazy!

There's always that kid. You know the one. You're nice to them, you give them gifts, you play with them; you might even let them sleep over at your house from time to time. Then one day, out the freakin' blue, he whips out a pistol and puts a cap in you. I hate pre-teens.

Before the underage gang shooting, Angie and I were busy entertaining other strange guests.

While Kika was flashing her rather interesting 'frozen ballerina' pose to Angie, I was downstairs keeping an eye on Sami.

'On Sami?'
you ask. 'You mean David, right?'

No, actually. I really do mean Sami. See, I have discovered over the years that Sami has been directly responsible for some incidents where the burden of blame had somehow inadvertently landed on David's shoulders. Like that time when David tried inserting a computer mouse cable into our cat's rear port because Sami didn't quite grasp that a three-year old couldn't quite grasp his twisted humor. He's also been known to hang David's bicycle on trees and other events that I won't detail here out of fear that it might encourage other insane Godfathers.

At least today's lesson was not your typical Sami outing. This may or may not have had something to do with a certain hairy-chested and rather muscular chaperone that was keeping a vigilant watch over Sami's every move.

At one point the Incredible Hawk witnessed Sami encouraging David to water down the section of sidewalk used mostly by elders to gain access to our building. As funny as it would have been to watch old-timers tumble around on ice, I did intervene.

After icing a few trash cans beyond recognition, we parted ways with the Godfather and headed to Artin's for a rather loud gift frenzy.

Tommy didn't quite get what was going on. He kept trying to give everyone else's gifts to Sharpur and got angry with Artin for trying to open the gift we gave him. David kept running around screaming his self-invented nickname for Sharpur.

'SHAMPOO! Hahahaha! Hey, Shampoo! Mr. Shampoo head. Hahahahahaha!'

Sharpur claimed afterwards that he simply thought David was an oversized slipper that we had given him. Doesn't really matter, but I'm fairly certain he's not too keen on the nickname. Whatever, Shampoo.

Every now and then Angie shocks me by doing something in public that she would never dream of doing in the privacy of our own home.

That's right - sewing! Apparently one of the boys had a snagged sweater and I came in the room to find Little Miss Homemaker busy at work.

'What in the sweet hell??!! Are you sewing?'


'You know how to sew?!'


There was a tone in her short and simple answers that my brain probably would have picked up on had it not been so flabbergasted. I have thrown away so many shirts over the years because of rips and tears (mostly in the bicep region). And coats!! I pitched several of my favorite jackets because of a tiny hole in one of the pockets.

The discovery of Angie's unknown talent actually led to a self-discovery of sorts. My brain is pretty talented when it comes to witty comments, but absolute crap when it comes to defending clever retorts that were made to irritated seamstresses. Who knew?

The time between Christmas and New Year's is normally reserved for visiting friends, exchanging gifts, and forgiving loved ones for accidentally calling into question certain household management skills. Angie decided that two out of three was sufficient and we stopped by Ute and Alex's bearing presents.

Their apartment, like ours, has high ceilings. Their apartment, like ours, had a Christmas tree. Okay, theirs actually touched the ceiling, whereas ours was about as tall as David, but who cares?

Oh, that's right - Tommy does. It may have been the overload of an exciting day without a power nap that caused the meltdown, but it may also have been the humongoid tree that Ute and Alex had crammed into their apartment that made ours look like a vertically challenged Lilliputian living in Smurf village. Thanks again, tree-braggarts!

After explaining to Tommy that he didn't miss out on any potential gifts that he might have gotten had our tree been a showcase to giant people, the ladies decided to have coffee and gossip.

'So, what did your husband get you?'

The dual 'cat-look' captured here would explain why Alex and I quietly disappeared to go check out his son's room. He had posters of beer hanging up, so he was cool in my book from the get-go.

When Alex and I returned from admiring what we would probably have both gladly exchanged for the coffee we were holding, I found Peter making David smile for a change.

Not smiling was Mama, who had just about reached her limits with Tommy's screechery.

It probably didn't help that the hot cameraman could barely hold the camera while chuckling and pointing fingers. Luckily, said camera guy is also wiser than grasshoppers and decided to go check on the boys.

At first glance, it looked cute - David, snuggled up on the sofa. It wasn't until I noticed Peter's flailing foot and heard muffled screaming that I realized why David was smiling so contently.

It didn't take long for Peter to express his dislike at being smothered by his younger brother. I am Peter, hear me roar!

I thought about helping out, but in the end I just decided to shoot the building violence. War-time photographers sometime suffer emotional anguish because they are torn between helping innocent victims and documenting the carnage for the world to see and judge. I'm not sure if I had emotional anguish, but laughter is a form of emotion and my belly was actually hurting after the whole ordeal.

Not laughing was Peter's victim, who suffered neck and lip wounds while attempting a counterattack.

There's always that kid. You know the one. You feel bad because they just got the shit kicked out of them, you give them hugs and comfort them; you might even give them an ice-pack to help with their swollen lip. Then one minute later, out the freakin' blue, they leap out of your lap and start power-choking their closest sibling. I hate pre-teens.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: That we did the CD's.
David: I read with Mama the story.
Tom: I was in the BIG truck!

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: That I couldn't look TV by the dinner because of you, Papa.
David: I don't got a worst part.
Tom: I bonkey me head.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: I want to play with you the new game.
David: I want tomorrow that Yuki, Lorenzo, and Laticia come over.
Tom: I want to go up, but not up there.

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